Monday, December 16, 2013

(Y)ear Benders


i'm no eavesdropper
but sitting drinking my coffee this is what i hear the most-
for starters- "how are ya?"
for desserts- "take care"
invariably, whether intentional or accidental, everyone cares, the static in-between doesn't really matter


dear mr cohen,
i thank thee for not writing more
the ones you have are killing me already
driving me berserk
beyond the absurd
the way you transform pain into poetry
poetry into music
from beautiful losers
to the book of longing
flowers for hitler
death of a lady's man
god is alive, magic is afoot
dancing me to the end of love
comparing mythologies
the favorite game
and the little black book of the spice-box of earth


suffering is often maligned at the altar of joy
its what gives birth to-
remembering the blues
and should one avoid drowning in that wellspring
one floats in a groundswell of wisdom
changing forever yer perspective of subjectives such as right and wrong-
and transforming with that suffering
maligning it no more
making it companion constant
reminder resonant
of beautiful fallibility


there's something about chuggy trains
that makes ya wanna grab a hollow guitar
do the gypsy thing
bandana included
and the mandatory marley song
of ol' pirates
or some crossroads
from robert johnsen's rendezvous
if that's what ya get meeting the devil
he can have my soul
and the body too
but i digress
like jimi
i hear my train comin'
for now the berth will do
for now the bunker is the bed
the rest will have to wait

Old Feelings:

and future-tenses
tighten present knots
rendering one breathless
in a tension of stretching continuum
sucking dry the air from the vacuum
where we all dwell
in one play of infinite irony
laughing puppeteers at the helm
pulling strings
making dead dolls dance
to enraptured audience in trance
intense tension tightens
a sudden snap releases pent-up applause
now set loose
relaxation floods in
as anxiety floods out
tangible relief
at intangible tenses of the senses
legs spread
one foot forward
the other pushing rewinding buttons
when gravity is all there is is
grounding you
holding you
saying "where're ya goin'?"

Aging On:

its alright
now that i'm older
i understand the breakdown of all compounded things
as i breakdown
there's neither romance nor tragedy in it
its just impermanence on display
in a very personalized manner
now shared publicly


as a kid
cloud atlas engulfed me
as i grew
rock & roll consumed me
but there in the midst of it all
there was always the yearning traveler
as if the road would satiate my questions
by the time i was in college
enlightenment was the goal
the Buddha and Jesus my idols
i wanted to be crucified at the age of 33
or gain Nirvana when i got to 35
now here i am
older than my idols
and far away from such grandiose illusions
learning instead the simplicity of life
each day as it comes
one day at a time
working with the elements without
working with the emotions within
those yearnings have long died
they are still my idols
with a difference
in that i've shed the romanticism i built up of these idols
realizing its best to keep them as examples
of men who rebelled in their own time
in their own ways
by battling their inner demons
and other shortcomings
each day at a time
one moment at a time
one was crucified at the altar of politics
the other was food poisoned
seeing the bigger picture
they each welcomed their personal deaths
and in doing so
freed the times they lived in
affecting the ages
and times to come
as each left behind his teachings
personal loss
and the like
in pursuit of that most noblest of ventures
the pursuit of pure freedom
unshackling mental chains
enduring physical pains
this is where one must separate the men from the institutions they have become
for their churches and monasteries are not them
or their idols
what they are are the examples they demonstrated
when they lived
the way they lived
and the manner of their dying
is the true triumph of their lives
and their fearless living
a victory over all cowardice
both literal
and metaphysical
this is the noblest of all goals
and the true measure of a man's greatness
lies hidden in such simplicity
and the wisdom that blooms
when all else dies
in true immortality
reminding us-
to follow the teachings
and be not hung up upon the idolatry of the idols
but rather upon their messages
and the lives they led
one day
each day
one breath
each breath
at a time
i still yearn
without yawns
or glorified visions of martyrdom

The Travelling Bhutanese:

more Bhutanese, if they can, should travel
and i don't mean shopping
or going via lonely planet guides
i mean travel
off the grid
so to speak
with risks
see other lands
and their peoples
their beauties
their ugly realities
if nothing
it broadens one's horizons
mental spheres and physical touches
so that one may grow
returning to appreciated nests
and whatever else falls short
at home or abroad
having witnessed
a life as a learning vagabond
walked the road
gone hungry
slept hard
felt ecstatic
made friends
stretching unto lifetimes
loved the befuddled masses
enjoyed simple sunsets
and when ya can get up
early sunrises
come face to face with yer emotions
rollercoaster rushes
and tuktuk lows
singing trains
crammed buses
flying horses
knowing life's a rent
whether bunking in a hostel
or bathtubbing in a five-star villa
enjoying beaches
or lonely mountains
having known yer tenancy
and yer landlord
this vacuum is a playground
whether ye be alone
or getting by with a little help from yer friends
or yer family
the road is the life
illuminating every sight
and giving musical notations to every sound
the road is home away from home
and the one journey we're all undertaking
in different guises and form

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

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