Saturday, April 11, 2015

Hellas Haven

Celestial Painters:

sky shrouds
veils open
curtains up
the city glimmers
sun streams
birds fly
i watch these paintings come alive
my hands don't sketch
so i draw them with my eyes
brush them with my hair
color it with my tongue
observe the world thats phenomenal
watching reactionary tides
surging like this april fool's morning
wise sun's now shining gold
a fly in the room's whirling
making way for a bumble bee that's swirling
its wearing early summer gear
dark yellow
buzzing fellow
hunting pot flowers in the rooftop fair
i look
see the attraction
thinking how the wise of old do not play with such distraction
but i'm no king of the castle
sage in a cave
hermit of abandon
or
buddha displayed
i'm an average man
playing to the gallery
in an average stage
behaving my age
getting up with a yawn
getting on with a frown
contemplating that the center is the edge
how the middle path has so many crooked ways
sidetracked in the hot pursuit of cooling existence
there're ashes of burnt happiness
smokey coals of claustrophobic air
scattered about in pure air
children of primal vastness and orphans of secondary asphyxia
freedom and fear
its all here
in the overall picture
and detailed rupture
within breaking structure
out of context
still functioning
in some bleeding frame
the hanging man smiles
and the living smirks
the man is hung
and then the man is sung
in gong and song
ballads of a lifeless irony gone wrong
above the ancient sea
over the crazy mountain
the rising sun gently sets
in a burst of colors
bringing down the day's plays
closing stage
in tomatos and oranges
and scarlet grace

Sugar-Free:

death
just another word
conceptualized
a bribed cop out with a cowardly rep
in
solitary
confinement
when all death does
really
is
remind you of life
freedom of choicelessness as jiddu put it
but then again
lifes sugar coated
marred
stained
brained
by
the very avoidance of death
and
every
little
thing
that lives and dies
in a state
of
constant
impermanence
where
nothing
and
everything
is
apparently living and dying
in
a
flux
of
simultaneous being
of paradoxical oxymoron living in harmonious irony
considering your sense of humor is neither
low
nor
high brow
but
just
in this unfathomable swinging scales of one and a trillion more incomprehensible breaths of what looks like a bamboozling state of existence thats perfectly random and randomly perfect
to
quote captain haddock-
billionsofbiliousblueblisteringbarnacles!

Mortal:

imagining death
poems of violence
melt in the silence

my poem of death
still beats
with life

Stinkers:

a bull's dung has no shit
a man's turd thrives with bullshit
its worlds apart
the formers manure
it fertilizes
things grow in it
it gives life
just think beetles
moths
even
butterflies
its odor is more than tolerable
grassy at worst
best at subtle
then theres the latter
it extinguishes and terminates all of the above
with scathing smell
killing feces
and
tell tell stains

Easter-Jester:

 its easter in the greek islands
and jesus is yet to arise
he's in a tomb
and around nine he'll rise
the men are in the tavern
drinking like trolls in a cavern
i've been asked to come
so i'll be going when the bells gong
i thought what could i take
and then it hit me
greetings from buddha
and
his cakes

Raw Fish:

dreams
dissapear
when you stop dreaming of dreams
and start living
without dreams
without weaving any schemes
no burden of bright lights and big stage
wide grins
and
narrow grims

The Great Big Dip:

watching the sun set over the aegean
hearing the waves lap up against the shores of andros
and the legacy of the ancient cyclades
i become
stone
rock
boulder
and
craggy cliff

i've seen the day
and now its getting dark
sun's gone on the other side
moon's not yet come
when she does she'll send a beam
but its alright
there glimmers of an emerging star

above the ancient sea
over the crazy mountain
the rising sun
gently sets
in a burst of colors
a buffet of fruit

a singing bird doesn't need a band
a branch will do
if not
a flower
or
a wire
why
it even sings
when there's nothing but a grain of sand

In a Notepad:

a pad
a pen
and the world at your finger tips
with a little imagination the view follows
killing self pity before it murders
one sorry little thought at a time
occupying all of space
trying to turn you into a living corpse
alive
without
content
or
purpose
but that's not gonna happen
for i've
a pad
a pen
and everything to write about

What's Reel?

i'm watching life
like a movie
a film
facing blankness come alive
throwing stories
thinking up distractions
going astray
like the life i've not had is the life i'm interested in the most
like the book that's yet to be writ is the one i'd like to read the most
you'll accuse me of being unreal
i'll tell ya you're being unimaginative
that unawake
we're all
still
dreaming
trying to possess abstract ideas
holding onto atoms
stuff thats not there
or
here
trying to own the air
feeling homesick
feeling homeless
embrace both and you're always in a hug
if titles and entitlements are what gets you going you'll get them both
but know this
career kills
ambition blinds
and civilization ends in wars
as for education
never has ignorance been so richly rewarded
and neither does one need to be the pope to pontificate
and when things get unbearable
remember
to
always
forget
to
remember

An In-Vulnerable Time:

i'm here to do exhibitions
of my inhibitions
put on mindless displays
like the television shows they call reality and hype
a breathless storm of predetermined hoax
wrapped in a box
sent as a gift
i come here knowing there's bullshit
the kind thats plastic
it doesn't grow anything
you log in and go static
pretend its all ecstatic
grow sterile eyes
develop cataracts
crosshaired looks
counting likes
imagining popularity
i come here knowing there're eyelashes with whips
lipstick poison
cologned boys
compromised men
made up chicks tiptoeing as our ladies of the good luck club
declaring happiness
saying its a face
putting up airs
saying its grace
i come here forgetting my arse
this changing skin
bags of bones
thinning blood
and everything dying inbetween
that begins surprisingly with once upon a headless beginning
and ends delightfully with a tailless tale
in
real
anonymity

Something's A-Light:

this darkness is
and was
the morning light
midday high
traveling
incognito
now in my eyes (as if they were mine)
reflecting itself
seeing what's seen
mirroring mirrors
like this wind howling
talking through fig
and olive trees
making the branches sing
making the sea face ripple
the eardrums in my ears are echoing
sounds that are happening
vibrating
back and forth
saying this is change
and that is changing
vanishing when you start pinning it to a point
leaving you pointless
leaving you fingering
nothing in the air
everything in a flux
see
look
here there's a cat
not prowling
not purring
not grooming
not snarling
just being
laying
lying
being
to borrow alan's shocking watts
a
catting
in
the
matting
now
stirring
momentarily speaking

Stationary Warning:

sitting
i learn
not to walk about
in headless thought
and thoughtless feet

out of context
and still playing
a changing role in a changing scenery

mindful struggle
changing experience
crests and troughs in waves
now splashing
in its watery essence

No Dough:
mashed mind wants to be firm
like weeds and roots
brush and bush
be imaginative as leaves on a tree
blowing with the wind
taking in the sun
sitting still
reaching out
giving shade
providing a perch for the bird
When the fruit is ripe it lets it fall
Where it feeds the ground
spreads its seeds
deeds of trees
manifest without any needs
letting itself grow in awareness
without the struggle of experience

Copy-Cats:

borrowed originality
now blooms
in a billion imitations
claiming authenticity

Why Fear Seer:

i've been a student
following seers of stone
who touched me
with intellectual rocks
moving boulders
keeping me fixated
enthralled
sucked beneath the stagnating cesspool
of my own murkiness
of dirt and mud
swallowed by an emotional quicksand
of
shifting grains
and
changing obedience
i've been a follower
studying
sages of flesh
who intoxicated me
like bottles of whiskey
whiffs of toke
music of the nether-brains
tantric sex
and free love
i was addicted
and
high upon appearances
like morning mist
evening fog
and
midnight veil
now having come down
i chew bone
suck marrow
slurp soup
learning to mix
the surprising taste of unexpected broil and sudden broth
in life's broken pots
pans
and
fiery kitchenettes

Daphne The Kitty:

this cat
purrs
coils
relaxes
sits like a cat
never wastes a moment
not even one singular meow
still
curious
firm
like a cat
this cat

A Box in the Sky:

a room in an attic
an attic with a window
and through the windowpane
the seasons come and go
in cold and heat
songs and sweat
life and death
framing them alive
in stills
and
sills
of a window
in an attic

The Sky in Athens:

up above
floating white clouds
and
great blue skies
riding side by side
with nothing to hide
down below songs of birds
and whistles of the breeze
dancing to that are the rustling leaves
in-between heaven and earth comes the mind
mirroring back everything in kind

A Pause:

lets lie
and tell
sounds of the imaginary bell
that alarms
and puts
everyone through hell
lets get the diary
and the mail
see through the success of everything that's failed

Writhing Writer:

writing felts
imaginary tips
days of the writer
in bohemian trips
tongue tied
biting world
wasted salt
on flavored haste
damning rush
going slow
banked here
over there is the shore
sitting in knots
watching a cat
stretching the floor
and stretching the mat
here i am
there you are
stuck with the chore
and looking for a door

you wake-up with a yawn
not a high-five
try to live-with the distraction
that's the bee-hive

Three Lines:

summer gear
hot pursuit
bumblebee's here

Dear Diary?:

an empty diary doesn't give a shit
my longhand
has now suffered
a major blow
from
the
punches of
the
keyboards
it now comes disfigured
in a way
that's
unreadable
and
horridly
beautiful
handwritten
&
punched
yet
still
knocking about
*sinseerlee

Longhand:

sometimes the pen just strikes the paper
then there are days
where you hold the pen
and
just look at the paper


Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

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