her name was hope
in a dream
of colourful words
against a pillow of clouds
all clarity invaded
occupying voices painted smudges
of dark and light
sizzling then frozen
stretched upon a canvas
of withered flesh
and crackled stains of blood
her blue eyes deafened
to the sound of her own voice
when the bombs of reality
her handcrafted easel
into a river of perpetual war
The abandoned cider mill
where the stranger balances stones
with each new shadow
and weaves a blanket
of ancient footsteps
through the river
for shivers of warmth
the very place where your name crept
into my bed of crumpled leaves
and caressed my inner thighs
with gentle waves of clarity
our trust unfolded
beneath each stunted breath
tears of possibility
washed us clean
free to touch and explore
with laughter echoing
through the inner walls of our deepest canyons
remnants of the distant sky
where civilized stars dance wildly
of primitive patterns
the coincidence of opposites
into the twilight of non-duality
water wheels turn
into a nebulous sea of bliss
while feral instinct
in suffocating pages
of imposed morality
the unsustainable light
flickers and fades
into a circle unseen
upon crumpled canvas
through fine jagged lines
gasping for oxygen
or a fluid bedrock
by blood drops
lost in the crevice
to be burned
evaporating in the heat
of frozen moonlight
a woodpecker hammers
on a gutter of tin
the toothless rail-punk
digs for a grin
over degraded health
to share the wealth
of emphatic lies
near perfect disguise
in programming xtreme
invade the dream
democracy nears annihilation
dissent not allowed
digital neural acceptance
demonize native arabs
debase national assets
destroy north america
degradingly nominalise ahimsa
The road not traveled
couldn't find my way alone
with speed limit signs
we spent hours there
where the road turned to a T
the right turn took him home
the left turn I was on my own
a crossroad of tears
and a novocaine numbed nose
a chapter I had to close
opening a new book
in our old place
Because She Must
and because she just doesn't care anymore
on the dark cold street
the wind whispered
"try to stay alive until you die"
she fumbles past crumbling doorways
the same dead child feeling
running from men with horrible gifts
or psychotic mothers
inventing her own self
barefeet toughened by shards of glass
her pain becomes pleasure
and all hunger disappears
as she drowns in the darkness
just a child
in the twilight
believing in nothing at all
except the words of the wind
she will survive the invisible day
when they uncurl her legs
and spread her knees
when her anguish becomes pleasure
because it must
and there is no hunger
and there are no math classes
and she becomes a disgrace to her sex
on an east wind
into shared blood
the voiceless chill
of frozen sunshine
Consumption is cool. Isn't that what Bush told
us? Go shopping! When your world gets you down just go buy something.
Up With the Jones, that's cool! Give me another tax break
so I can go buy. Give me! Gimmee!
Sure I read the alarmist articles:
Coming Currency Shock
The Dangerous Dollar
the Dollar's Fall is Bad for Everyone
Yeah, right. This is America man. We can always borrow more to
keep the economy afloat. We have allies!! Those lefty elitist
liberals who rag on my SUV and tax cuts, the ones who advocate
equity and conservation just don't get it. I
work hard and I'm going to be rich one day.
Heh! Those damn liberals, they think they can buy themselves a
better agenda supporting companies like Working
Assets The laugh is on them. Working Assets issues affinity
credit cards through MBNA, one of Bush's
biggest donors. Marketing, a little greenwashing, a few bucks
thrown to their petty
causes. No big deal. They are stuck on the same carousel.
Of course, just don't tell them that dropping out of the banking
industry in favor of credit unions, (those member-owned, non-profit
slime) might make an impact. We want them saving in places where
we can get our hands on their money. Who takes the time to investigate
major business? Virtually no one. It's all in the marketing.
If it seems cool they'll buy it. Hell, even
Adbusters is tapping their pockets.
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. So 80's. Alternative energy? Why? I say
squeeze the last dollar out of the oil industry before we look
at alternatives. We get a chance to show our military might and
our world dominance while we're squeezing. Yeah, so this war is
costing a bit more than research into alternatives might have.
But hey man, this is a religious
war too. Peak Oil???
yeah, ok, I've heard about it. I even check out the
Energy Bulletin on occasion just to see what kind of dribble
is leaking out. We really can't have people aware of this. It
might hurt profits. What you say? read Deep
Blade Journal and his collection about peak oil? NO. I really
don't want to think too hard. God will provide. Yes, yes, he handed
stewardship of the earth to humans. They are our resources to
profit from now.
You know what I find most troubling? My kids. They are buying
into this anti-corporate thing.
They tell me they can't make ends meet and find it gratifying
to buy used stuff. They talk of things like sustainability
and that hippie concept of organic
food. It even bothers them that the EPA proposes a study involving
low income kids and toxins. For taking part in these studies,
each family will receive $970, a free video camera, a T-shirt,
and a framed certificate of appreciation. They even call the
I don't see a problem bribing those poor families to be guinea
pigs. I raised my kids to think they were better than everyone
else. Someone needs to be a guinea pig to protect ME! Why not
the poor folk? They owe me for all the years I paid my taxes.
My kids somehow got this notion that health care should be a right.
Yeah, so they can't find a job with health care benefits but they're
young and healthy.
I'm very afraid that the liberals will decide to market 'less
consumption' as the new cool thing. We need people
to be in debt. It spurs production, not that the US produces much
anymore but, that's beside the point. We are, by definition, a
nation of consumers! The world loves us for it!
invading the structure
of flesh through
instigated by power surges
through tolerence overload
greed closes the paths of acceptance
not one man
unavailable for purchase
cannot be obtained by force
Her Name Is Vengeance
a seductive prostitute
flowing cloaks of justice, unjustified
the nurturing breast of humanity
bound, hidden and smothered
and the promise of ejacualtion
collects patriotic coins
soiled with blood
and radioactive oil
lining the pants on the floor
preys upon the weakness
who have mistaken a dick for a bush
through the faulty condom
of justice, unjustified
an attentive, expensive whore
with a tongue of promise
continues to stroke
the pain of delayed ejaculation
guided by deception
who thinks he's alive
fit for duty
decided to decorate
the desert with vultures
until it dies
of a leech
drunken with blood
where the dark has no taste
and tragedy becomes mundane
there's no point in dialogue now
the last coin sandblasted
as she shops for presents
I suppose that once an educated estimate has been
placed on the limits of your personal lifeline, there are bound
to be the condescending soul-savers attempting to convert you
to born-again status. It makes it even more difficult when the
insisting force comes from a family member. You can't comfortably
shut the door in their face and discussion is draining simply
because it's been beaten repeatedly over the years. It doesn't
seem to matter whether you have agreed to disagree in the past.
All the proselytizer cares about is salvation, going as far as
to intimate that if you were born-again an anti-anxiety medication
wouldn't be necessary. I wonder if she treats her patients with
What will you do when you are faced with this
Craig has written A Poem for a Proselytizer
Perhaps that's all that's needed.
(A Poem for a Proselytizer)
"Imagine there's no heaven.
It's easy if you try.
No hell below us.
Above us only sky."
I came into this world naked of body.
I will leave this world naked of mind.
I have no philosophy.
All labels, 'ologies and 'isms will be left behind.
I kneel before the Cosmos as She is,
She is my Mother.
I do not fear Death.
But like Jesus in Gethsemane
I know anxiety regarding that which I must pass through.
If you don't, then I am sorry that you have so little imagination.
Or are you just brave?
What did I do while in my body?
I listened to music beyond imagination.
I experienced ancient drugs beyond imagination.
I read fantastic literature beyond imagination.
I enjoyed sensual pleasure beyond imagination.
I saw beauty beyond imagination.
I knew love beyond imagination.
Ants at Play
embedded in the floor
ants wrestle socially
smothering behind bars
of synthetic thread counts
and enforced competition
in false confidence
the sly appendage of power
mighty and uncaring
robed in ignorance and greed
constructs wealth with
heavy bricks of debt
creaks and rumbles
scurries for attention
and finally crumbles
thundering waves of fire
drenching the cinnamon breeze
the tunnel of safety
raw diamonds and rose petals
one careful voice shouting
squishing fingers through a
boggling mud bath of
should, would, could
mirrored in cryonic memory
tracing the timeline of
while childish hands craft
our castles of sand
of clouds and rain
one more refain
lone whisper, no pain
board the passenger train
A Raucous Squeek
sucked away swiftly
no testament of conspiracy,
bridges of ambassadors
sway with ponderous burden
while squeeks of a pontifex
perfect splashless dives
into a frigid lake of theocracy
simple raucous fingers of understanding
reach across boundaries
offering arms unweakend
providing dry shoulders for scalding tears
gentle stimulation for the paralyzed
instinctive synaptic impulses
mystical musical vibrations
shivers of arousement
release a dangerous dance of desire
the cruelest joke
where nothing resides
at the rainbows
a promise trusted to hands
that carelessly break the stem
conforming to lies
nurtured with pesticides
uprooted and cast away
like a weed
Don't Know Where to Go
clear mountain water dream
giggling bubbles dancing
on a floor of rocks
smoothed by experience
tickling playful toes
never asking where it goes
it merely flows
and simply knows
frozen tears melt into
raging thunderous wash
deepening the gorge of time
cyclical dry beds of drought
bake and purify foundations
immersed in the perfection
that simply is
Random Rhymes on Death and Life
Like death in slow motion
with special effects
one organ fails
then on to the next
I'll dance on the gallows
to your final request
hand me my guitar
I'll play it my best.
And hand me my harp
I'll play any key
to bring healing to your heart
from the one breaking in me.
Putting prayers into bottles
which I fling to the sky
but the breaking of glass
is the only reply.
To all of the lovers that I've ever known
I'm sorry, I'm sorry we stand each alone.
I shopped and I shopped for a stylish noose
that would look good with my sandals
before they hung loose.
I did it for you
for the lust in your eyes
and your skeleton dancing
in fleshly disguise.
a bed of thorns
the harbinger of rosebuds
littered with remnants
of rotted promises
and rumpled leafy compost
reminders of the mighty tree
by a vicious supreme vote of lightning
exposing a gaping wound
vulnerable to further destruction
roots infiltrated with hungry termites
refreshing new growth and seasonal healing smothered
choked into complicit death by a neighboring shrub
spawning twisted vines of lies
pawned off like soldiers
in the theatre of insignificance
the voice of the world battered
to the beat of the mighty tomahawk
ripped from the heart of natives
a checkerboard cowboy with his chessboard
unbalanced on it's axis
as he pauses to rearrange pieces
and redefine rules
the game of Rummy and the boy who cried Wolf
instrumental in his sandbox of power
his plastic toy soldiers
melting under the heat, forgotten
as he packs his bags for camp
Friday March 21, 2003
Lost in a sea of pillows
looking for words
inside the arms of thought
flying in the mountains
lost native wings
the red cloud of the desert
a mushroom it brings
Giant Kroger Plus Shoppers Card
I had just finished the last bite of my french
bread pizza and was relaxing with my glass of fine
wine, when there was a knock at the door. I was going to ignore
it, as I often do, but the knock was persistent and loud.
Grudgingly I opened the door and saw him, a Giant
Kroger Plus Shoppers Card, his eyes, peering through the embossed
advertisement of fruit were familiar in an eerie way. They had
the sunken dark-circle effect of a WWII nazi general, the tell-tale
sign of a man who has never had good sex, and probably never will.
Yes, the eyes of a man intimidated by the breast of a statue,
and calico cats.
"Yes?", I asked, through a half open door.
The Giant Kroger Plus Card pushed his rectangular body against
the door, flinging it so hard the doorknob hit the wall. "Ya got
a minute? I'm here to ask about purchases you made this past Sunday
morning, purchases you made, mind you, when you should have been
"Yes, go on", I replied, trying to recall if one of the new rules
of this emerging society mandated I go to church. I didn't think
so, after all, this is America. That couldn't happen, could it?
"Your shopping habits are subject to scrutiny, and the data-cruncher
in our Kroger database, which has yet to be cross-checked with
other data, has shown you to be highly suspect. In addition to
shopping on Sunday, it shows you've had a habit of buying French
products, jalapeno flavored hummus
and pita bread, incense, zig-zags, and french
bubble bath. Oh, yes, raspberries
are also red flags. Organic
milk doesn't help your case one iota either ma'am", he bellowed.
"My case?" I asked, blinded by the absurdity
of this Giant Kroger Plus Card on my doorstep.
"Well, ma'am, we don't even need to have a case to haul
you away. I can simply imply you're a terrorist and be off with
you. However, I want to test the capability of the newly developed
data-mining that we've spent big bucks on, therefore, I won't
be hauling you away just yet. It's a grand hobby of mine to instill
fear and demand complicity. Have a pleasant evening and I'll see
you at the Assembly
of God Church next Sunday. Oh, yes, we will be paying attention
to your monetary donations. The faith based abstinence program
Teens USA will be a prime beneficiary. Our media financier
Rev Moon founded
the program and it will please him. I'm sure you agree that those
irresponsible safe sex education programs only prove to make sex
attractive to teens."
I locked the door.
sliced by absolute lines
of fuzzy arithmetic
into factions of disunion
multiplication of unity
propagating a newly formed Bush
spread by tubers and suckers
into an army of weeds
foundations of separation
melted into sludge
by the radiation of a vision
the operand of division
Sex Under the Bush
Under the covers, beneath the phallus of wartalk, is a simmering,
yet chilling, hoarding of the anima.
Visible with the appointments of Dr
W. David Hager and repressive tax-supported programs like
Rev Sun Myung Moon's Free
Teens USA and the new house bill which includes up to $300
million per year for experiments promoting marriage, extends a
$50 million program promoting abstinence from sex until marriage,and
any discussion of contraception, it is clear another part
of our culture is becoming as unbalanced as the budget.
Enjoyment, education and equality of sex is being
ejaculated from the empire of Bush and Dick as quickly as condom
information was changed on the CDC pages.
Safe, informed, satisfying sex, vanishing under
the auspice of the abstinence
adminstration, is hidden from our tender eyes just as the
of the Spirit of Justice, was hidden by 'just another john'
ashcroft as he was seduced by the whore of fascism.
Sick and Tired
''sick and tired' said he
through ferocious smug teeth
the parent who dictates
and has no ears
his own orphaned children
forced to live in his fears
no money for healthcare
never knew how to feel
approved by his seal
star wars, the father
avenged by the son
bully of the schoolyard
the war he is fighting
contrived in his head
no smoking gun
to sleep in his bed
the madness of power
fuels limited reign
'sick and tired' said he
and who is insane?
no condom protection
for an oil whore's well
the choices are clear
comply or rebel
inspired by a squire
smokey tendrils of thought
whisper-touch quiet lips
a paintbrush of song inhaled slowly
and held close
snuggled together on a cloud
discarded pop bottle
reflecting a squire
undressed at the dinner table
each wave in its rising
finds an easy way down
following its thirst
never said drown
the moon stretch of sky
light the freeflight of birds
while here to be human
in slavery our words
lips of the cave mouth
drink wave onto wave
in feathers and fire
serpents open earths maze
lone baboon masturbating
knows his own hand
the ants, yes the socialists
map deeper the land
inside monkey bodies
free lost in thought
heart hand sculpted road
Simply, What Is
When I think of you I smile
And then I want to laugh
You're like the coolest misty breeze
when I couldn't breath anymore
I've thought about it all
Worried, wondered, made myself sick
But I don't care what you feel
Or what our future has in store
That day of monstrous clarity
will come crashing soon enough
possibly with the brightest joy
or depositing an empty cry
So for now I want to cherish you
and the moments few we've shared
And savor the way you've made me feel
with a fullfilled and contented sigh
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your
heart and try
to love the questions themselves. Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it,
live along some distant day into the answer.
--Rainer Maria Rilke
clear harmless appearance
this liquid dripping through
our life blood
like a US sanctioned
a woman and child
for societal induced cancer
the gentle touch of love
not compassionate conservatism
can only heal
"Cancel My Reservations"
I ask you,
Where is there to go?
What is there to do?
I've grown so tired of travelling/seeking,
looking for a Home that was alway Me.
So no more trips to Blissland,
no more rides on the Kundalini Express.
Done with round trip excursions,
leading back to dilemma-ville.
My own Self-Nature is sufficient!
There is no difference.
I'm staying put."
Love gives with no expectation of return. Love
suffers with no expectation of relief. Love does with no concept
of what it is doing. Love is patient and yet does not wait. Love
is solid and yet is not graspable in the mind, spirit, or body.
Love, as a feeling, is a whole sense of well-being, or peace that
is radiated and not selfish in
it's own light.
Love is selfless with neither one who gives love
nor with one that receives love. Love yearns for nothing as it's
needs are always met and as such, seeks only to fulfill the needs
Love is free of self and others.