Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Psychedelic Space

In a spiral galaxy
beats a rhythmic skin
a heavy thud
akin to the creation and dissolution
of consciousness. 
A big bang,
a weaving of mystery and soul-fire.
The stars drip juice,
a desert, a sphinx, a moments echo
A mountain as high as Kailash
in Tibet, Nepal, India
China, Japan, further east.
A ship sails in rough seas
the captain mans the wheel
violent storm-hewn waves
rush the deck.
A seed is planted, grows, dies
a fruit is born, a race rules
countless dynasties edge
their legacies into histories.
A honeycomb contains a bee
whose buzzing, constant buzzing
alarms Dickenson of deaths trance.
A mother holds her child,
who nestles the milky juice
of throbbing life
which follows her child
into the icy grave. 
the earth melts,
its potential vacuumed
into black holes. 

A small pocket of the universe contains small carbon based life forms

pass by, drive away, turn on, shut off, open up, ressurect, readjust, sink, rise, manifest, vanish, reappear, live, breath, dream, die, reincarnate,
                                                                                    FOREVER (is just a word).

I have no more change in my pocket,
My credit runs out,
The machine TURNS off.

When I was small, after visitng the art museum, my grandmother would take me to McDonalds.  I was forbidden to go to Wendy’s, because Wendy’s controlled woman’s bodies.

At a soccer game, I dislocated my shoulder and my mom put it back in place on the sidelines.

I got drunk once.

The super bowl,
Terminator 2.

LOVE shines from her eyes where her smile used to be.

Before I was born, where did I live?
Zen claps wake up the emaciated AIDS patient.

How many eternities find their way into the dropping ball which signals millennium to the masses?

Mr. T:  “No More Jibber Jabber”

No more credit, no more pocket.
The more turns the turns off.
Mo machine credit off. Machine.
                                                                        FOREVER is just a word
                                                                        that means forever. 

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Ode to Walt Whitman

Ode to Walt Whitman

Rough, worn, pithy, hearty, 
dance of life
hand in hand
glide into the invisible
behind the eyes
of one central self
teaching learning
anew anew
ever refreshed
the corpse the grass
the leaves
the kosmos
oh Walt
oh thee
container of all selves
the soul of eternity
stepper over of infinities
untier of illusions
into juicy truths
and poignant agonies.
Great journeyer
weilding a staff
wrought with the bark
of all people, all things
of all moments
Can I ever thank thee
for teaching, revealing
my own self
and leading me on
searching anon.
I know deepest within
me and all else,

"I stop somewhere waiting for you"

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

A note of day, of birds, of speech

Here I stand, rather sit
sprawled out 'pon this here bench
mind rocked forth gaily
by chattering freinds and birds
I wait a while, as teh blue nestles
the clouds wanting, lacking naught
a leaf curled, fallen to the ground
my attention lost, though here found
a new amusement, a flies buzzing
a moths happy fluttering
coarse, white, momentary wings
to and fro civilians rushing
an instants peace away from the bustle. 


A building sign that reads: 
"come into me"
There I find a hall
with interminable passageways.
Into each I pass.
Till alighting an entrance
I find something new.
Its reborn into gates
of aged hierarchies
of a grand and noble creed
riding times labrynthine steed
alighting heavens multiple vaults
until a light out of ether borne
trails a thousand fallen galaxies.
Other signs beckon, beckon
into their ceaseless folds
of loathsome wonders
crustacian signs,
koan signs
fingers, moons, ears
 death taut
one sign never forget will I 
thats the sign of wonder
the sign that radiates from the mothers bosom
to the deep set eyes 
of her babe. 

Love poem on the Bus

Must keep it tight and play the game
listening and laughing while love withers and dies
my pain is satisfying, it encourages
she continue to grow
while I deeper and deeper go
deeper and deeper into this forest
trying to find my way back home
home cant be found,
just these stars in the sky. 
Our souls are stars
in vast spaces of being.
I had a girl,
I loved her indefinitely.

watching zeppelin wail

Watching zeppelin wail
and jive and freak to
percussive and distorted
heavy twisted metal blues
fucking excellent
hair argyle raw blues sentiment
rolled up in a dollar bill

And tossed to the
hard living wind
new is pure
1, 2, 3, 4
crash bang
adrenaline and excitement
flailing your body into
the fairy tail recluse quips
blue eyed golden haired
Led Zeppelin
Jimmy page
is sitting down
to tell it like it is
in middle metal earth.
Hes inventing new worlds
from the same ol soul

Pumped full of apacolyptic martyrdom
and emotional octane. 

Mystic Hindu Dance



A thousand arms,

manifest heads.

Colors Holi

River Ganges

Brahma Sadhu

unkempt dreadlocks

ashes strewn on

naked naga bones

drawn to energies

of destruction.

shiva kali

destroyer myths

demon mystic


creation dance


wrapped around

shivas trident

found in graveyards

drinking the blood

of skull chalices

harnessing deaths

innate powers

destroyed egos

crushing personalities

annihilating identatities



transcendent realities.


Om Namah Shivaya!

Vibrates Krishna's flute

bellows Shiva's drum

world shattering

vibration of creation

upholding manifestation

belying destruction

Om Shiva Om Om!

Blows the Eternal Conch.

Om Hari Krishna Om!

Sounds the mystic mantra.

Om Rama Shiva Om!

Heralding liberation.

Baba Nam Kevalam!

Supreme awakening.

Bluegrass Train

Music transports you to other realms.  Take me on the bluegrass train, to the blue side of the mountain, through the hollows of old Appalachia, “where the sun don’t ever shine”.  Drinking whisky in a lonesome hollow’s honkey tonk joint, moonshine on the front porch of the cabin watching the sun go down a hazy summers day . The plucking of the banjo is the bluegrass waving in the “Kentucky hills of tennesee”, the “cows lolling in the land”.  This is is roots music, that “high lonesome sound”, the crisp mountain air blowing “in the pines” of the smokey blue mountains.  The struggles of cyclical and vulnerable life over in the rolllocking foothills and down into the valley and up the mountain heights, passions are felt deep in the hollows of your soul, that hidden part where losses dwell, hope hides and music turns to myth.  Organic tones, the wholesome sounds of a hollowed out chesnut oak,  the mashing of the grains in the barn, the itenerant preachers pleas, the dirt kicked up by heels in folktaled hills.  Hills with forests that envelop you in “shady groves” and “dark hollows”, that storied bluegrass train passes through all these with its whistle sounding the plucked, picked, and downhome harmonies from Appallachia. 

an appeal

Do we really need such hatred,
Must we waste our time blaming,
not searching for solution?
What ever happened to healing?
Figuring out a way not to fight?
I know the hurt bleeds.
A dose of hope, optimism, 
to treat our vulnerabilities?
A way to channel
tremendous instinct pain and energy 
into creativity
avoid the blame
and take it into 
mine own hands?
mine own hands!
full of lust, greed
hope within the seed
to find an essence
a balm
of tranquil humanity
harmony and unity
forever handshakes
no more treaties
just affection
not affectation
but attention 
and realization
more networked trasactions
in helping 
and reduced harming.

A many faced self portrait

A Many faced self portrait.

Like the multi-faced incarnations of Vishnu, the multitudes contained  in Whitman, or the many minstrels of Bob Dylan each reflecting one  sympathetic self, I too contain multitudes.  Within me is a stream that flows in many directions, an aggregate of cultures, a kaleidoscope of personalities.  These juxtapositions coexist sometimes in harmony and at other times in tension, but they  all flow from the same stream, from past experiences to present impressions into future possibilities.  The first and most salient is the inheritor of my parents generations values and worldviews which came to a focus in the 1960’s.  This forms a backbone of sort, because these values produced a liberal, free-thinking, and inquisitive mind which allow a peaceful interaction with all of the other cultures balled up within me.  The 1960’s is also manifested through the countercultural, carpediem, ecumenical tendencies of the aquarias age.  Then there is the jew, the brains of the operation. Some part of me is a frail, sickly and transcendent scholar poring over talmuld folios shrouded by infinite stacks of commentaries and obscuria, all the bookish knowledge and wisdom through the ages.  On the flipside of  and informed by the jewish scholarly face, is the bespectacled cardigan wearing literary, artsy-fartsy intellectual.  This academic self is endlessly dissecting the visionary mythology of blake and comparing 18th century romantacism to the philosophical alchemy of the Ancient Chinese Taoists.  Here is the sinophile face – throwing the I-Ching oracles and fumbling over the klutzxy jewish scholar whilst striking a Tai Chi pose or mocking the tones of mandarin.  Accompanied by Da-We the Taoist, is Devendra the hindu yogi perched on a mountain top retreat twisting and struggling into the lotus pose but again hindered by the inner jewish klutz.  Treking behind the yogi on top of the mountain is the quasi outdoorsman pseudo working man cowboy plucking bluegrassy tunes and self-consciously crooning woody Guthrie.  Contradicting him is the self-absorbed adolescent skater boy imbibing the teen angst of punk rock and posing the cool of hip hope street culture.  All of these faces are contained and contradicted within my quintessential American and multicultural gloobalized identity.  This is to say nothing of the unconscious impulses and patterns which would require all of Freuds writings and millions of dollars worth of psychoanalyse to decode.  

Roots Poem

Roots is love
roots Is pure
roots is from
the seed of
the earth, it’s
all and all
for one, for
the people
to smile 
feel so nice
when we hug
listen to
each other and
everyone else
when we see
inside our
selves and
our being
we see one
thing only
one thing
when were
here to now
here to four
and three and
one here for
ever more
the ever-joyous
dance with its
intrinsic harmony
and feel for
ever mine and yours.

Philosophical Dialogue between Mssr. Daniel Greenwald and myself.

"such as it was, such as it is, such as it will be" Sirens of Titan, p230

These words of Winston Niles Rumfoord reflect a recurring theme of
Kurt Vonnegut's Sirens of Titan and Slaughterhouse V:  becuase
something was ordered to happen, it happened and it is remembered, it
"shall always be here".  Vonnegut's characters take the view that
because an event is a singular, unique point of space time,and thus
the event is like a statue or picture in reality that always occurs.

 Taking other cues from Buddhists, Kant and Einstein, it can be
further stated that time is a relative phenomenon, which when
experienced by our limited mental faculties is linear (like the earth
is flat  to the eye). When one is a Tramafoldorian (omniscient Alien
race) or an Awakened Buddha or a Quantum physicist  one sees time and
space for what they are, a point in an infinity, and since there are
no boundries, no beginning no end,  everything that happens/happened
always exists and will exist.  This theme is also present in Borges'
obsession with Pascal's "Infinite circle".

Our life is not purposeless nor meaningless, its just there is no
purpose outside of its own existence, outside of our very own selves.
Thus the meaning is within ourselves:  discover the meaning, discover
the infinite.   We are part of an infinite circle.  This very moment
and our selves is the production of everything else and we are all
existing in one Giant harmonious infinite circle which only seems
inharmonious to our own mental cognition, a cognition necessarily
limited by our dependence on instinct and reason.

 We existed, do exist, and shall exist because we were, we are, and we will be.

We are part and parcel of one infinite, constant, and mysterious event
that we are only partially aware of.  Our eyes can only see in front
of us, but a great deal, the rest of existence-known and unknown, is
left out.

Each instant is forever.
Nothing is lost,
everything is found.

Search far enough within
and you will find infinitude.
Search far enough without
and you will find

the same goddamn thing.

"Such as it was
such as it is,
such as it will be".

Greetings from college park on a Saturday afternoon.

I have some thoughts I wanted to share regarding your previous email.

A.  Way to express yourself.

B. It seems obvious to me to say that right now is because of everything before it.  Its articulating circularity.  Right?  Maybe I just happen to be an omniscient alien from planet Gnardon, but it just seems like..no shit right now is occurring because moments occurred before this one and the one before and so on backwards and forwards 'til the cows come home. Or left home.  This leads me to C.

G. In what capacity does the infinite tie into meaningful existence?  What I mean is that..howcome..as soon as the infinite is recognized..and its recognized internally..does life have meaning?  Surely a sick person who realizes that he or she is a part of the infinite circle will not be comforted by this realization.  On the contrary.  That realization for a sick person could actually cause bitterness because he or she will not be there to experience it for as long as others.

N.  I think that there is a disconnect between "cosmic consciousness" or "awakened dharma" and the generally obvious realization that experience, time, now, then, here, there is an infinite and immaculate happening.  The knowledge, or the intuition that would lead one to understand the nature of space-time, or time, or space, or experience, or existence, makes one wise.  Or wiser than a pawn.  Or wiser than someone who isn't paying attention.  However, the peace of mind that an "awakened dharma" or however you want to call it, comes from a deeper intra-personal understanding.  Like a realization of oneself as opposed to a realization of everything outside of oneself.  

A.  It's the relationship between understanding the infinite and in turn, intrinsically, simultaneously finding purpose or meaning because of that...thats what I want to talk about.

R.  If I have not been making the most sense here, or have come off as presumptuous or arrogant in anyway, that wasn't my intention.  I was just trying to stimulate dialogue between two vessels that deserve each others attention once a week.  Additionally, I'm not trying to argue.  I am trying to dialogue. Enlighten me, Spock.  And I shall beam you up.

Hey man.  First of all I am honored that you took the time to read my
writing, digest it and give it a well thought out reply.  Thank you.
Second.  I took a bit of poetic liscense in it and I’m aware that the
logic behind it might not all fit together, I kind of sent it out on
an impulse on top of that.
Third.  Mostly these are just descriptions of experiences had outside
of my logical mind that different writiers, philosophers, and
scientists attempt to communicate.  My understanding and enthusiasm
for “infinite circles” comes from intuitional experiences during
meditation.  Thus in the words of the Chinese, its like a finger
pointing to the moon, no experience except for a symbol can be derived
from the finger, you must turn your attention to the moon.

But ill try to answer your questions and comments, and clarify my own
ideas to the best of my ability.

“In what capacity does the infinite tie into meaningful existence?
What I mean is that..howcome..as soon as the infinite is
recognized..and its recognized internally..does life have meaning?
Surely a sick person who realizes that he or she is a part of the
infinite circle will not be comforted by this realization.  On the
contrary.  That realization for a sick person could actually cause
bitterness because he or she will not be there to experience it for as
long as others.”

First we have to define meaningful existence.  What is “meaning”.
Generally its thought of as the reason for something, the evidence.
Why something is the way it is, or the cause for some effect.  And
where is the reason why, the cause of some effect? Cause is an
experienced phenomenon that precedes or produces the effect.  And this
phenomenon is found through the senses, it can be proved and verified
empirically as an isolated phenomenan, a fact, if it is to be
considered a “true” meaning.  Thus it is data.  So the data lays in
experience.  This verification of meaning through causality is also
known as logic. Now the question “what is the meaning of the universe,
or our existence?”.  Well our existence is the result of everything
else’s existence ala Darwin/evolutionary theory.  We are looking for a
meaning of existence, something that produced  and preceeded all
existence. So then you are asking to verify the cause of existence, so
this thing necessarily does not exist in the same sphere as our sense
experience, but created the experience.  But since this lies before
experience, it cannot be verified with logic because logic deals with
empirical experience, but this must preceed empirical experience since
this phenomenon created it.  So logic, or reason cannot be used to
describe or experience it since it’s the world that preceeds the world
of our senses, or underlies it.”.  To discover the world that proceeds
sense experience, you must use another way of verification, you can
not use your senses.  This is where intuition comes to play.  Now we
must define intuition.

Intuition is finding out not through cause and effect, but knowing or
learning something outside of the rational mind, through a different
capacity of mind.  For example making a decision that you are
convinced is right but not knowing why, not having any logicalanswer
to support your intuitiojn.  It is based on feeling.  You feel it is
right.  Meditation, Yoga and Tai Chi are intuitional because you don’t
learn them through reason or accumulation of facts, IE how to meditate
and what happens when you do, but through meditating, through feeling
it with your whole body/self and opening/relaxing body self into the
flow.  Same with drumming, dancing, basically learning anything.
Except in meditation the goal is to experience your self outside of
your personality, identity, history, or “I” feeling. When you relax
yourself or open yourself up enough you realize that there are no
barriers between you and the moment, you and everything else.  And you
actually feel that is all one, everything is complete, whole, and
because of the absence of temporality in this mindstate, infinite.
And this realization only comes about through the sssrrender of the
subject/object mimnd, the sense of self.  So if so much exists outside
of your sense of self, what is the worry about death?  Your ego may
not allow this realization, but at least it is chastened a bit and you
have another perspective to arm yourself with, so to speak.
You learn that you really are everything else and everything else is
one.  You can learn it based on the mountains of evidence/data we have
that points to that fact, but this would not change your attitude or
offer any comforted to the sick person.  Or as you said, it would
offer very cold comfort.  Or you can meditate and open your self,
become more intuitional, relax yourself into the flow of your
“gestalt” and see that your sick body/mind is just a very shallow part
of yourself, but your real self is a oneness that pervades the whole
universe, and may even be deeper than that.  And this is what happens
when you cultivate your intuition, you have a “peak experience” where
you step outside of your limited “I” and become one with everything,
or the “gestalt”.  Intuition is awareness of the objective flow of the
“IT”, a merging of our subject with the object of our body’s
intelligence, and the worlds intelligence.  Reason is an argument.
The sick person will be comforted and ultimately rejuvenated (his/her
perspective will shift drastically) by the awarness of the deeper
self, not the argument that such a self exists.

“ I think that there is a disconnect between "cosmic consciousness" or
"awakened dharma" and the generally obvious realization that
experience, time, now, then, here, there is an infinite and immaculate
happening.  The knowledge, or the intuition that would lead one to
understand the nature of space-time, or time, or space, or experience,
or existence, makes one wise.  Or wiser than a pawn.  Or wiser than
someone who isn't paying attention.  However, the peace of mind that
an "awakened dharma" or however you want to call it, comes from a
deeper intra-personal understanding.  Like a realization of oneself as
opposed to a realization of everything outside of oneself.  “

Well the intellectual understanding of the nature of experience and
the intuitional understanding are very similar when described but
wholly different when experienced.  Again one is a fact, or a
collection of data.  The other is an intuitional experience.  One is
saying that yeah, it makes sense, the other is seeing the world from
the perspective of no boundries. One is knowledge, the other is
Wisdom.  There is a saying that knowledge gains and wisdom loses.
With knowledge you gain a fact, the fact that the universe is not
linear as we are wont to see the universe.   With wisdom you re-orient
yourself, you empty out all your facts, history, self-consciousness,
your complexes, so you can see the world clearer - from the
intuitional perspective of “don’t think, feel” as Bruce Lee says.  Of
course this is extremely difficult to maintain 24/7 and sometimes the
thinking impulse is necessary, but you can make the intuitional
impulse stronger and stronger, so you go more and more with the flow
of things, operating out of a different sphere.  And this is the
practice of meditation.  It is an exercise to make your mind more
intuitional, to become more subtle, and queit so the flow is clearer
and the chatter is softer.  There are anthropological and
philosophical reasons why this intuitional wisdom is associated with
religion, and terms such as “cosmic consciousness” and “awakened
dharma”, but the crux of the matter is that it is a wholly
psychological shifting of perspective.  Thus when the Buddha was
asked, “what are you, a god, demon, angel?” he replied, “I am awake.”


Is there some point, one the flight, where you are in a foreign country and you become a foreigner.  Is it when you step on the plane and it is full of people from the country where you are headed, and you immediately become self-conscious that you look conspicuously different then the rest of the passengers, the rest of the citizens of the country that you are conspicusously not a citizen of?  A feeling of sonspiciousness that tralils you like your shadow for your entire sojourn in the opposite hemisphere of your homeland.  Is there a kind of benchmark when you can say you live here and aren’t just a visitor?   Ive heard from other foreigners who have lived in Taiwan for 20 even going on 30 years that there isn’t among the Han Chinese.  One is always a Wai-Guo-Ren, with all its perks and irritants.


The feeling that I am living in a foreign country is most conspicuous when I emerge from a friends house, a fellow foreign friends house, after spending the afternoon engaged in the discourse of Americans, and I step out onto the street and everyone is looking Chinese speaking Chinese, writing in Chinese, and everything smells Chinese (Incense and deep-fried soysauce).


I want to order noodles.  I see everyone eating noodles, so Ill just say noodles, in my tone-deaf mandarin, and point to the unassuming noodles-eating customer’s plate and say “same”, in my stuttering, half-sure, sputtering, bending, waving, sounds that are vaguely reminiscent of something like mandarin.  In the end the likewise bewildered waitress serves me dumplings.


In a taxi, around 230 AM, looking out the window, the dim streets appear to be any metropolis anywhere in the wee hours of the morning.  I put on my glasses, and half-lit advertisements become visible, displaying people with joyous smiles of clean teeth and matrimony bliss in a lush green meadow framed by the pictograph Chinese script, a weird mix of an ancient cultural lineage dating back to the times of oracles and hieroglyphs, and modern, subrurban wet dreams.


One day, in the evening, after work, I am walking home from work, walking down a lane and I look to my left as I’m passing along, and I see an open door into a parlor.  The parlor has no light except a TV, that’s perpendicular to the door and only the glow is visible to the passerby on the street.  Watching the TV in the dark is an elderly man.  He is standing, and round his waist, he is propelling a hula hopop.  There it is:  a man the age of my grandfather watching TV in the dark and hula hoping with the door to the street wide open, as if to say, look at me you filthy world, I am a vastly superior being, what with my age, and on tope of that I am hula hoping, not even noticing the vast amounts of energy being expended because I am immersed in Prime time television.