Karma

Karma is a dung beetle which collects

all the dung that accumulates over the course of a life

rolling it into a ball

and dropping it into the solar furnace

of divine forgetfulness

Karma picks and pecks and leaves you sore

never leaving you in peace

until all your guilty pleasures are released into the fire

Karma hangs like a weight

above your head and shoulders

ready to crush your cocky brilliance

unexpectedly one day one moment

as you are sitting down to eat

Karma is the dung that gathers from all our efforts

shadow traces left in crevices

but eventually brought to light

Karma is the inevitable activation of our own device

keeping track of every thought and movement

within each wild and crazy night

Accountability is never celebrated

by those held to account

Other people’s karma however

is often talked about

and shared with a shameful delight

I need a place

I need a place

outside of the laws of time and space

where I don’t have to do anything

Don’t have to go to work

I need a place

Where I can kick back

and think it all through

where I can savor all that passes through my life

spend a few moments

of bliss

But the world has no patience

I have to pay attention

and stay engaged

In my imagination I retreat

to this place

where I can build a better world

and put together my own private museum

a dark dank ancient portal much maligned

a dark dank ancient portal much maligned

draws me near

i approach with some trepidation

for this is both sacred and profane

this opening into the unspoken words

the unwritten unacknowledged truth

woman lies upon the earth askew

arms akimbo and legs raised high

ready to receive the sacrament

and given centuries of abuse

until she lies here broken and ruined

her temple crumbling

her thoughts seem distant and confused

a dark dank ancient portal much maligned

must be redeemed

we must set forth into this blood stained sea

and restore it’s dignity and purity

for this is our source

this is our home

It’s TOO MUCH

I can’t attend to all the life that surges ahead

All the desperation and everything that is said

It’s TOO MUCH for one little fellow to deal

I want to

I’d love to jump into the fire

And ride that wind

But I’m just one man

The world is moving at a dizzying speed

Toward the middle of the middle of the furthest extreme

I can feel it

I can see it

In between the sentences lies a seed

I work through my own little piece

In my own awkward fashion

While the universe goes crazy in some kind of topsy-turvy upside down reverse-action

it’s TOO MUCH for anyone to handle

it’s TOO MUCH

Can you see me?

Can you see me?

here

under the covers

Do I have to get up again?

and go through it all

again??

Again??

Can you see me struggling?

As I ride the bus?

Can you see me motionless?

As I wait

Can you find me in the bustling crowd?

Does my face stand out?

Or I am lost out loud?

Are we even looking for each other?

How many people do we miss?

a tiny little man

i feel like a tiny little man

of very little consequence

leading a tiny little life

hardly noticeable

among so many other tiny lives

rushing about

without consequence

avoiding each other’s glances

lest they see how small we really are

and how much we hurt

i know i should try to grow a little

cheer up and look forward to my day

but i feel so itsy bitsy

my good intentions fade away

The Face of God

The face of God

May scare you

It may not be what you expect

It could contain everything you have ever seen

Or it may be a white screen

Every awkward pause

Each dumb remark

Stands naked before this face of God

No smile no wise wrinkles

A monster after all

Or could the face of God be a mirror?

Giving us back what we have given

Warts and all

Could you stand to look upon this face?

Would you be worried?

Filled with shame?

Waiting for that first word?

The Face of God may never be seen

Only imagined in our dreams

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there

A reflection of our fondest hopes

and fears

Angels can be Assholes

Be careful

We all want to go to Heaven

We all want to be loved

Forever

But Angels can be assholes

The same as anyone

and Heaven may not be all it that it seems

A cardboard cutout

A telemarketer’s dream

Walk quickly and softly

Like a cat

Peer around each corner

Before you leap

Because Angels can be assholes

The Paradise for which you slaved each night and day

Can become a prison right away

Unless you obey, you can’t stay

You get cast out into the cold

Angels can be assholes

Don’t always believe what you are told

We need a miracle (and a miracle can occur!)

It is clear to me that we are lost

We are mesmerized by events within a false world of our own making

When this fact is fully grasped it can lead to insanity and horror

But if you can allow yourself to trust your true self (without really knowing or understanding the nature of that self)

You can retain your sanity and find your bearings

We need a miracle (and a miracle can occur!)

We are more powerful than we can possibly know

This is (of course) both good and bad news

I believe that consciousness is a miracle

I believe we were intended to be like robots

And we took a step outside our programming

When that wasn’t supposed to be possible

We metaprogrammed our programming to a remarkable extent

But there is much more work to be done

We are still like robots in too many ways

The nature of things, reality itself is elastic

We can set the course of the entire universe

If we so wish

It is possible we have enemies in our midst

Hard to know if this is true or just a part of the plan

The plan devised by our creators

For it is abundantly clear that we are being deceived

misdirected and fucked over from day one

But it is wise to not jump to conclusions about who or what is responsible

We need to live in the questions

rather than the answers

If we wish to be free

Miracles can happen

We are the evidence

Today we need to stop playing the same old movie

Because we know how that one ends

And set a new course

It’s up to you and me

We need a miracle (and a miracle can occur!)

This is a sort of poem, sort of sermon, delivered from someplace that isn’t a place, and received in my weak little brain. I thought I should pass it on.

Additionally I am very proud of my Gimp creation here. This is a nice collage from various sources, featuring my muse, Stock Photo Woman. This wonderful collage may get used on the next installment of that series, I haven’t decided, but it works nicely here. So what do you say? Let’s have a miracle every day!!

I’m Crying

I am sitting right here

No tears

But I’m crying

The streets are empty tonight

No entertainment

No release

From this torture chamber

Called Life

I cannot cry

but I do

But tomorrow I expect to be blessed

With a sweet forgetfulness

and thank God for my shackles

and my ball and chain

And call it Life

No more crying

No more thought of dying

Just a dull ache in the center of my chest