Saturday, November 9, 2013

Bottled Whine

A New Game:

Let’s attempt new genres
Carry binoculars to see horses in dressage
Perhaps a monocle
Sit on balconies, one of those posh-boxes
Dress fancy
Watch an opera
Find out what’s behind the wails

Dressing Up:

It’s not the man that matters but the 'gho' he’s wearing
Let's get a customized weave
Personally tailored
Measure all bodily cavities
Tie up all loose idiosyncrasies
Walk like success
Talk like you own the human touch
And in that chosen outfit
Attempt to play a misfit


Cut off from roots and branches
I ally with mushrooms
And cacti
Burn incendiary incense
Keep idolatry altars
Follow tout-Buddhas
Asphyxiating love
Marauding monks
And vicious carousels


Fucking the variables
Yer experience is the only experience there is to experience
Fucking variables

Comfort Table:

When boredom becomes playful
And solitude cozy
You can count sheepishly


When in doubt
Be suspicious
And check yer wallet


You fall in love for the poetry
Get married for the babies
And stick together for the mire and mirth
If not the myth

Cooking Pots:

If you can’t finish a sentence start a new one
Being jobless is a good start of surveying the working madness
Being single sucks till you hear coupled stories
If you really want that needle in the haystack; burn it
I’ve stayed up really late without ever feeling the ‘wee-hours’
In-between heaven and earth there’s a lot of smog
Love may make the world go around but break-ups keep it busy
The cows have come home without the cowherd and tonight the fat lady ain’t singing; she has the blues
Every time its drunk, pride falls, makes a mess and shouts a lot- incoherently
An idle mind is an unimaginative place
Every dog secretly wants to roar
In the Bhutanese context, appearances can be very, very, indicative
If the journey is the destination, you are on the wrong bus


I’ve faint memories of a memorandum of understanding framed and forgotten somewhere on a fridge
Those asteroids are rocks catapulted by truant-alien kids

In-between heaven and earth there’s a lot of polluting airplanes, junk-satellites and migrating flocks of suicidal birds

Generally Unique:

The road less travelled has no tourists
If one wants to meet Jesus, Latin America is the place.
The path to honesty is laden with crooks
What does not kill you hospitalizes you
Teach a man anything and it will be on Facebook
I was in the kingdom of the blind- do not go there!


Firewood floater
Bonfire sparks
Warm portals
Welcome hearth
Cooking embers
Fuel and coal
Fertilizer ashes
Drawing material
For sketching images and messages
In memoriam
To deadwood, fire and followers


I’d like to play a god-man for a day
Just to walk in that sanctified garb
Plus I've always had a thing for orange and saffron
Those sacred colors of the middle way
And without mocking, utter words like compassion and meditation
Folded paths in fours and eights
And other variant lingo of the chosen few

Be Cause:

Outer Justification
Inner Motive
And Secret Bullshit
Regularly Multiply, Manifest and Exhibit as One Too Many Conveniences of the Gross, Subtle and Ignorant Crap
Daring blinders
Dead dreams of comfort
As in flowered-cemeteries
And garlanded-graveyards

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

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