Still Pending

let's go for a drive
and until we arrive
watch the rolls of the land
and roll with them.
Let's leave early to avoid traffic jams,
take a short cut through the chaos
and observe the wilderness patiently waiting to retrieve its losses.
Let's take a breath
of fresh air here in the year of the nth
and stay unrattled
by an ending
that's still pending.

the benefits of astronomy

The constellations were dim last night
They couldn't penetrate the haze
All night long the earth was rotating
and the moon was in a phase.

I'm glad the earth has an axis
Without it things would get dull
Even at the risk that it all crashes
I'd prefer it to eternal lull.

The sky holds a mystery
My heart says take me
Thank God I don't need to understand the theory of relativity
to enjoy the benefits of astronomy.

Easy

It's in-between pays
summer seems far away
but it's okay,
we all have those days
and tomorrow'll be easy as
spring relieves winter grief,
easy as turning wheels carry weight,
as easy as lovers meet
and the bud lets loose the leaf.

No Time To Be Intruding

Wade MacDonald Lived outside a college town
Wade MacDonald never went to the college in the small college town.
Wade MacDonald never liked school or being ruled around .
He lived estranged from his wife and kids but he sometimes had them 'round.

He worked with a chainsaw in the woods and sometimes drove a truck.
Things never went smooth.
As far as money and love he lacked luck
Things never went smooth.
He worked like a slave some days and on others he could hardly move.
It wasn't often he'd get thunderstruck.

The credit card companies keep calling
The the cable's gone, the electricity's next
The credit card companies keep calling
The the cable's gone, the electricity's next.

His children's movements dance in front of his eyes
They're the only reason he'd get up and put his truck in drive.
His children's movements dance in front of his eyes
They're the only reason he went through the motions to survive.
In his mind he flipped through snap shot memories
That would be his last and his only good-bye.

On some lonesome nights he'd look for God in the quiet country sky
He wanted to know if there was a magic remedy.
On sweat filled days he'd curse cuz the sun didn't deliver what the nights implied.
Real and imagined enemies
He could easily sensationalize.

The kids were going their own way
They got used to not needing him.
The kids got part-time jobs and played soccer
They got used to not needing him.
At first it was a shocker
He'd awake from dreams with muted screams
In the dimness he could see his chances were slim.

He was often alone but it was not the loneliness
He could always toughen out the dread.
But it was not being alone, it was the hopelessness.
Maybe it would be different if to Alberta he had fled.
That last afternoon he went looking for a gun
But found a length of rope instead.

In the country where he lived
He could hear coyotes howl
In the country where he lived
Wade was never known to be a wise owl
But he picked a strong beam to make it quick
And for the last time he hit the ball with his hockey stick.

His heart was pounding
He had a sorrow that would see no tomorrows
His heart was pounding
To cart away the sorrow you'd need a wheelbarrow.
As he tied the knot
He tried not to think about not seeing his children grow.

There's one last gasp for breath
There's self hate to go with the regret
There's one last gasp for breath
And his mind began to drift.
Just before the end
He mumbled "oh shit".

The door to the shed was open
And the coyotes wandered in.
The door to the shed was open
They saw Wade swinging.
But they held their howls
They knew it was no time to be intruding.

Horsesense

The fade out at the end of the movie is inevitable
but so are the pleasures when stardust binds itself to flesh;
as are the tribulations and trials by fire
as are the contradictions knocking heaven but still hoping.

Napalm was invented during WW2
Two Harvard boys using their ingenuity.
It was designed to stick to the flesh of the enemy
and followed the rules of spontaneous combustion.
Jelly from hell.

I was reminded of this after I microwaved a gelatin heating pad and a seam split.
Out burst this lava hot gooey stuff on my neck.

Follow the threats to find out what's being protected.
Follow the loops of your heart to find out what stretches and what contracts.
But not only that, follow your horsesense
when you find yourself up against a fence.

mind mender

The basic units of life ironically
derail the finite's train,
thundering into the rough and untouched using dynamite for a crutch,
getting giddy on heaven on earth, lying in it for a sec with no aim,
becoming a human target for more of the same such and such
that delivers up wishes
opening up windows, airing out swindles---
philosophies and psychologies getting
too loony for their prescriptions--
but regardless performing a refresh function as time dwindles.

The maybe way to inject the genus holding the joystick
controlling the mine fields of remote possibilities:
joy as a human right, buy a ticket , there's the wicket,
gotta keep it in your sites , don't count out any proclivities
that might tap into the tender,
a mood mover and a mind mender.

habits of the morally depraved

many of the morally depraved have the money to hire pr flacks
many know how to dress
they have twisted their god given linguistic systems out of whack
so what comes out of their mouths is pure bullshit
but they have no regrets
until maybe they're down and out in a cancer ward
and the only thing that appeals to them is living for another breath
of which they have a little left
maybe then they feels some regret


greed and sprinklings of the other 6 deadly sins
is the policies you get from government..... beholden to corporate interests
who've shown these government guys how to steal and call it necessity
and then seal it with a philosophy.
It's hard to get anyone to be straight --
some just dumb , some on the take.

Higher up the food chain you get the bombs-away boys and girls
educated and dedicated to decimating any resistance to the West Knows Best principles,
much learned since Hitler, who played Cowboys and Indians as a kid, taught them a lesson or two about being haughty with a muscle bulging military.

nothing that wasn't know before -- but he showed them how to mix looniness with ruthlessness to make everyday seem like Christmas.
Some just dumb , some on the take.

the knots of yesterday

The culture encourages worshiping idols both when idle
and when actively seeking the riches of Mammon and his favorite brother-in-law Marty.
Only to find dissatisfaction , and you want to leave the party.
To know that you don't need to read no bible.

All on automatic
in daydreams and night dreams and dreams projected on walls
seeming to be as real as a statistic stuck
down by the dreamy side.


its epistomolgical roots growing through the walls of biology
seeded by a passion that won't take plausible deniability for an answer.
it's not that gullible

Perhaps there's no soft landings when you find yourself at the fountains of truth that come at you like Niagara
free falling through a space the imagination can't fill up with either good intentions or research and developments.

A lot of time is spent untying the knots of yesterday
while time whistles by.
Time that's on a tight schedule in the here and now.
And how.

dark little corners of the world

I happened to learn about the plot from the sister in law of one of the getaway drivers-- who was really a decoy.
She was a non-stop talker and everything came out-- everything she had heard about the assassination of the union organizer.
Any gaps she filled in with her vivid imagination.

The authorities caught up with him, suspected him , but could prove nothing so they just tortured him instead of killing him.
Besides there were people on the inside looking out for him
and he got his old job back.
From an organizational point of view things were fracturing .
Any time now you can expect a coup.

The sister-in-law had loose lips but it seemed almost everyone did
So I expect the the proverbial excrement to hit the fan.
Some of the odds makers are are predicting an old time bibical dust-up with tactical nuclear weapons
used surgically like concealed knives in dark little corners of the world.

What goes around comes around hums in the background , but I can't seem to locate the source
other than it comes from rundown suburbs where former art students have stopped painting pictures of despair.

To The Exterior

They refocused and realized their brains needed some ventilation
But were afraid of the poisonous gases reputed to be drifting by the sealed windows.
They didn't want to take any chances by being flippant about the dangers of thinking.

The monitors watched their every move.
The watchtower security guys were part of the package.
You wanna sniff some of that air then be prepared for the sharpshooters.
They've been practicing in the soundproof area.

They refocused realizing the guns were loaded
But their lungs rejected the stale breaths and were drawn to the exterior.
Their bodies were being cued to take action from what their autonomous nervous systems were imaging.

it was the month of June
it was the end of the full moon
it was time to make their move.

It's All Because of Love

To see your face,
I have no notion of what it does.
To see you smile and walk on stage,
my molecules won't stay in place.
To hear your voice stops the discord in my head,
my ears choke to understand
and my heart pops when my thoughts get stopped.
It's all because of love.

Never really felt this way before

Never really felt this way before,
legs so loose
old ruins booming alive,
traces of inner space expand through my eyes.
Never felt this way before.

Never knew there was such a thing
as hand heart coordination
that could change the conditions
faster than an eye blinking.
Never really felt this way before.

Buried Treasure

The sojourn from and to Eden has been filled with unpredictable tidings.
But for the moment it's safe to walk along the sandbar and forget about sales pitches.
For the moment the vista has been deleted of fakes.

Out here with the wind biting you can forget the movie analogies.
Your soul separating from your embodiment but still hovering around you like the blowing sand.
The ocean and sky expanding in synchronicity.
There's realization I'm only a few steps from Eden but not sure in which direction.

On a little Island off shore they're digging for buried treasure.
They hope to find gold plundered from the Americas by the Spaniards and in turn plundered by English pirates,
Creating the capital to jump start the British Empire.

Their theory is that strong currents and hurricane winds drove them into this bay.
There's even speculation that it's not gold, but that Francis Bacon buried some of his more controversial and unpublished works there ,
buried in elaborately engineered shafts preserved in a bath of mercury.
Hiding the evidence to hold off the Ax Man.

Deadly politics tightens up the brain.
I give myself up to the wind and sand and horizon
and an ocean that needs no name.

They Need a Good Exorcist

The links sputter with feedback
Brahms comes through the speakers,
it sounds like he died of a B Flat.
This is not a place for beginners.
stay back.

Down in the Middle East , in the expanding holy lands,
the old testament's brutality gets a shot of adrenalin.
The rapture romance readers cheer the bust up of the dusty infrastructure.
They sing hallelujah from their pews
They want the fossil fuel.

The jingo jungle in their heads gets thicker--
they believe there's a time for bombing.
They're modernists when it comes to the Ecclesiastes
They sing-song it til hate comes to the surface.
They need a good exorcist.

They seek the return of a Lord who who won't veto their vanity
A lord with a sword who will take them back to the beginnings of the Word
and give a nod to modern crucifixions.
They need a good exorcist.

weeping in puddles

Weeping in Puddles

Blue on blue
tears on rain
She's looking through to another world
where there's no hue of blue,
where Eternity uses tears to water Forever.

Her weeping erodes the distortions that stymie her anima.
A child of the universe with a predilection
protected by gestures projected from her DNA.
She prepares to take another swing at the pinata
she can see through the aperture of her reflection.

tears in progress
fears in puddles
despairs go to who-knows-where

Monju in a Space Suit

Monju in a space suit can't get the mojo working.
The live action in the leaky nuclear facility greying out the facts that were taken for granted---
those blue skies for the eyes to look up to,
and an earth as seen from a satellite with the color green percolating;
since before the time the Earthlings landed.

The imagination choking on the terror of a what-if.
Specifically what if outside those suits the astronauts use in space
the blue and green take the Thelma and Louise route off a cliff.
And what if wisdom has become a process that has devolved into what can be extracted from a Microsoft data base.

As minds grow soft it's easy to flip-flop into the hidden hate traps
randomized according to the instructions
of markets determined by shooting craps.
Here and there and you can find people praying for alien abductions.

The ink in the brain is fading fast
Monju's out in the moonlight digging through the trash.

The Soul's Active Ingredients

The Soul's Active Ingredients

TS Eliot just paid me a visit.
He was tapping on an African drum.
He described the wasteland that he left in '65
and the wasteland in which he nows resides.

The drums , he said , contained embedded rhythms he didn't learn at Harvard
or in the litanies of London.
Rhythms that never made it into any of his poetry or criticism.
Rhythms, he said , that would stun Rimbaud and Donne.

He's been drumming ever since he stopped breathing,
and if and when he re-incarnates
he says he 'll teach the poets a thing or two about how the senses interface
with the soul's active ingredients.

Money

The distribution of money sure is funny.
You've got the luxuriate card and the living-in-a-sewer designation,
Some too plump , some too bony.

You've got your jet setters, then you've got your refugees.
Some can get credit from a rock , some get the turn-to-dust denomination.
The distribution of money sure is funny.

Some live in the Mc Land of Milk and Honey.
Some have somewhat more slummy accommodations.
Some too plump , some too bony.

Those residing in hovels read those books for idiots and dummies.
That's how they deal with the indignation.
The distribution of money sure is funny.

The mansion dwellers turn the other cheek to tyranny and say: How uncanny.
They close their eyes and visualize vindication.
Some too plump , some too bony.

Television and pop-ups echo chamber easy money
selling infatuation but brewing revolution.
The distribution of money sure is funny.
Some too plump , some too bony.