Laundry Day Haiku

Laundry Day Haiku

My body it spins
Without me there to help it
So I let it run

Identity dries
Kombucha keeps on living
A liquid soul cleanse

She has many clothes
Articles for little ones
They tumble the same

Tiled floors are like stilts
Keeping you above the Earth
I want to fall down

04 March 2008

Smiling and Suffering

स्मिलिंग एंड सुफ्फेरिंग

She had gritty teeth
And a stagger to her step
The colors she wore
Subdued rainbows
Although they were worn to tatters
With rips under each armpit
From lifting her arms so often
To beg for food

She didn't wear underwear
Hadn't since she was a child
It makes it easier
To squat
On the side of a road, a field,
or a shady grove

Her hair down to her waist
Oils practically drip, dripping
From every split end

She carried a small tin plate
For marigolds
And a bowl for change

She had God in her eyes
So vibrant and alive
But she was smiling and suffering
And trying to get by

When she bent over to touch my feet
A simple blessing
Her back may have cracked
From age
But it didn't show

When she blessed me
And received my offering
Her smile doubled
Her head bowed

The first fruit she'd had all day

She could really make love
Not in the Western sense
Not as in the 36 chapters of the Kama Sutra

She could make love out of necessity
Out of Nothingness
Out of Simplicity

And that's what made her beautiful
Beyond smiles

The Bean

The Bean

Beans, beans, the magical fruit
The more you eat the more you
Ingest a fibrous substance
Fueling your cerebral cortex
With the function X
Providing instantaneous growth
To every cell in your body

Can that bean inside your being
Possibly be unwilling
To reveal its true intent
Is it scared as chicken shit
That your insides might be bare as a back in California
And cannot decide whether to hide
Or bury its roots in your liver
Fool around with your kidneys
Rendezvous in your genitals
And fiddle with the voluptuous rolls
On your tummy

Is it aware that starving kids in Africa
WILL eat that left over bean from your plate
Because that's about as little as this thriving country
Is willing to help them?

Lest you finish it...

Then competition sets in

The hairs on your tongue
Stand at attention
Esophagus contracts
Just a tad
Before giving birth to a seed
Ready to expand
Like a freshly squeezed sponge

The acids in your belly churn
Getting the defense set
While your bowels twist another inch
Setting up boards to brave
The tornado of winds spinning like
Spiral circles
Through dry land

Yeah, these beans can fight
A vegetarian's contradiction
These guys have gusto and brawn
Not to mention protein and vitamin B12
These beans are just as alive as any

cow or bird

bird or bee

bee or yak

yak...

And you'll be able to count each bean
As it wrestles its way back up
The porcelain laughing at your lost luggage
Never eat fried Mexican food and bad tequila
Ever
Again

pinprick

पिन प्रिच्क
This is a mid-life crisis
And befuddled am I
As to why it lands at such an early
Twenty three

A raven perched on the passenger seat of time
Sitting but moving like emotion
Of which many come to mind

Birthed and bewildered
Breathe, see, eat, heart beat
Feeling a fickle fascination
As it is hard to distinguish
One puree from the next

Disattatched from umbilical dependence

By five I'd experienced five cities
Anxious

Kissed my cousin at seven
Curious

Nearly drown at ten
Trepidation

I saw boobs at a punk rock show at fourteen
Filled with determination to start
A band of my own

I smoked marijuana
Out of my girlfriends tampon container
Drank my first beer
Lost my sweet cherry at sixteen
Ambitious?

Tried to choke myself to sleep at seventeen
Heartbroken
Lost
Exposed

I graduated high school
Became an adult

Had a cop pull a gun on my
Hallucination opened eyes
With complacence in my mind
Only a month later to find
What life really was
Abroad

But after running the gamut
Experimenting cities
Cultures
Psyches
Climbs
Caboose
Mountain passes
Herbs
Gods
And God too

I stare the future in the eyes

Perhaps routine is everyone's demise
Rolling in the splendor of taking back time
For tradition

When we have tried it all
We choose consistent bricks
To shatter our reflections
And keep them at our toes

A cheers to a life we might have chose
A pinprick's length in time
That this tailor could sew
Imagination Strewn quilts
That look like a throw
On the back of a couch
To hide it's blemishes

I choose red
Because beets bleed
But stay sweet

I could try my hand at molding laws
That keep us steadily
Devolving
Or a band of gypsies
To keep music
Revolving
The beat that bleeds
But stays sweet
On rhythm
And sharp on time

A tart drink with lime
Begging instead for wine
To make age feel well adorned
With an aromatic inhalation
Escalating one back to breathing
Huuuuuhhhhhh
In line

But my crisis remains

And I rectify my fears through love's inconsistencies
And life's multiplicities
And recipes for change
That will continue
Seeking solace
Inside of my bodily sanctuary
Through the next pinprick

short poem

Skeletons of spiders
Hold inside of them
Every rainy day

Just as the rain itself
Gives skeletons
The appearance of
movement.

03 February 2007

I created all things

I Created All Things

I created all things
And distilled philosophy
With such ingenuity
That it pains me to know
I created all things
So celebrate me
And my instability
So rejoice
I created war for you
And love for me
I made decay for you
And birth for me
I'm a great excuse
So just have faith
That I will permeate
Your problem
Destroying it so effectively
That it pains me to know
It wasn't me at all
I created minds for me
And a heart for you

26 December 2006

blustery day

Blustery Day

Embracing fatal winds
With a Leprechaun's chagrin
I finally lose step
To discover within
A complacent smile
Complete with dimples
Pushed by the music
In this voracious tunnel
That cycles in circles
Of fifth notations
Receiving revelations
From a God that never knew
What it was like to dance
With promiscuous love
Until its fatal winds
Might smite me again

16 November 2006

I am that man

I am that Man

I AM THAT MAN. IMPERCEPTABILITY LENT ITS HAND. I HAVE AWOKEN ENTIRELY TOO MANY SENSES TO BE LENT A DESTROYED CONUNDRUM RELAPSED ROTUNDRUM.

Incapacitatade

OUR BLESSID HOLY BOWELS
THAT INSIDE SMELL SO NICE
BELOW BUT AS THE SCREAMS
CONTINUE I set off on
an adventure that
I SEEK to
Find an ansel
or grettal or tic
or tac inside
Movies & TV &
?fireWORKs? &
BIC lights & snowballs
& effects of such
more than a
free lunch.
But earth's deposit
from what we have grown
tumults this
traveyard
ship we've
sewn.

Off with their head!
What? you say
Inebriatedly a
gesture of invioble
solution will
dissipate
you of fear

Colors look nice in the sunset.

And so does my roof.
But I'm not on it yet.
Nope. MY
NOT HERE
IS DULY NOTED

love,

Matter of fact

04 July 2005

untitled

untitled

A silken blue-green veil
revealing only three eyes
one at the center
entirely filled in
with the red of concentration
the red of bloodshed
amongst neighboring states
of a mind that cannot
convey
because the carrier
lost the bet with karma
and withdrew the two of hearts
for a one-eyed
jack

13 November 2006

21st bday poem (India)

Twenty-one years now, under candlelight, to tabla I write. Sometimes during those past lines one must feel empty to relocate the mind. Realign the ambiguous disease to please the soul inside the heart. Not only soul but system, of thought overshadowed a conspicuous dot. That beats. And beats. We only wish it were an organ and discard melody as mere percussion. That beats. And beats. Even tablas have tone.

Twenty-one years now, life is but a dream. Created by life and dreampt by particles, of which love to laugh. Particles of energy only get transferred, unscathed. But nature? It is human nature to destroy that nature, only the word in every sense of itself. Five senses and the sixth comes out in three. Eyes see the skin, which feels the rhythm of the heart. That beats. And beats. If we tasted how we smell, nature would make sense. But not in us.

Twenty-one years now, and I found number six. It was hidden under a cloth, in the skin of a beggar, with a child. A child who's mother took it's finger to sing her the economic solution for the outcast. "But they have all, they are fixed! So why not find a little number six?" But it is hidden, under rocks that are too big, under chemicals and clearcut twigs. By elements that make one so painfully sick, the six is nearly gone. So nature begs and nature buys, nature takes fingers, and nature steals eyes. From both sides of the coin which helps one share and dream. That reciprocates with peace, or disintegrates disease.

Twenty-one now, reality becomes less of a verb, and a noun for those who feel it and a word for those with five.

03 November 2005

Cannibalism

Cannibalism

What did the first one think about it? Was it the instinct of a spider? The chill of starvation? The soul desired from body to mouth? What is love? What is fear? Is 'playful' in the same homogeneous mixture as metaphor? Is religion allowed to be used under the same bad breath? How about government, money, exploitation of third world culture, or the increasing number of countries feeling apathy toward these 'worldly superpowers'? Leadership is a facade. Altruistic gestures of apathy. Who was the first man to eat himself? The man who was starving, decrepid, placid, and dissipating or the man standing on top of the oil trade with dollars in his head and bodies on the soles of his shoes? Airplanes never sounded so intriguing. The las breath of America will be the smog of LA. If that is not irony then I give up. I am tired of eating myself and ready to devour something beautiful.

28 August 2005

Laughter

Laughter

It was an influx of thought. Something that may have told the mind to write this or perhaps a little something in tune to the nature of what is inside of us all. The inclinate variability of meandering torsels and vibrating spins. Where it led to is existence. It all started with a moth. Honestly. My first hope of existence to my last. It all comes down to love and moth friends such as these, bees, flowering mescaline hives dissecting what we are dubiously pinning our independence. Very well then. I'm free at the expense of serendipity. What always leads to follow. It all fabricates to a chess board.

Neverland shines with the sun. It comes to say hello at once and finds its way back to where it began. Oh moth. I actually know you were a butterfly - it is exactly where the sun comes up today. Maybe a nice scanty into the woods would serve up quite the pancake!

She metamorphosed into a better stretch of life encompassing the backswitchflatstack inside of her I feel a comfort and outside a delicacy that is missed. My love does cry in weak sorrows and pit-pat yesteryears but this morning I love you and tomorrow still will.

Laughter.

This is where I laugh.

This is a smile.

This brought fear.

Fear came from

Where I may have

Escaped from

Meander.

Juxtapose.

Remember

Califlour?

Incessantly my heart numbs to be a

Music of the soul and a music in my suture

Fit just in place where even happy

Thoughts! are erased.

At points I catch a glimpse

Of this ambush or this

Blood, catastrophe, senile,

defliction, derelict and hopeless.

But to pick up pieces where one might have had let off.

Moths have strengths even these

fans find delightful! (RITE AID says it's personal)

And my pants are ripped

AND groovy.

I start to hear whispers and find

that its the bird's house I'm in.

And they send Me

floWeRed FUCKing BOMB packages wrapped in serendipity?

But then it

Comes back

to being

so fucking personal

that you end up right

back

To where you end.
Love

04 July 2005

Untitled

Untitled

Patchwork yellow masked birds on a wire. Like blankets hold warmth, like static synopses and purple balloons. Sobering is the rain sometimes as it exhausts burning bushes. Raindrop gestures find unnecessary niches and click cliche perils at the butt of a gun. By shooting out suggestions to find old pollutions inside outside transfigure this pesticide to kill of the buy to stay simple. We'll grow a tree of thought and eat whats in the shade. We'll find the perfect spot and dream without sleep's aid. We'll collect it all. Destroy to create is what they tell me. And I wonder why we are crazy sometimes.

08 June 2005

Jazz

Jazz

Jazz. In the mind of a jazz musician, inside the bebops and blues, intelligence and innovative movement of time, rhythm, and lust, is a residual purity of soul. Doot dat dat ratta tat tattin' in the beat out of beat and through the beat. Inside out juxtaposition of music that is felt, not played. Jazz and musical evolution fight intonation and creationist theory. Coltrane riding sax bwee dot'n Davis making his trumpet stretch for Miles while Louis plays for Pass in the pace of a fretboard. Drugs are dilapidated by it. Enhancing the rich sounds of the un-tat-tat of a swingin' set a pyro scheme in red flames, as Wes fuels these, Brubeck cools it off in five, four, three, two, one...

Fall back to thought. Everybody has a natural rhythm. Connecting on that rhythm you play with tempo through lights, camera, interaction! flashing spurts of song and dance to one's aura, kissing God's fingertips as they brush the skin of the head of your drum at the side of your brain outside of your box. Flow with it but always sto-p to find the music inside. Focus. Yeah, that's right, the music dwelling with fashion. Dealing with strap-ons pounding culture where the lights are growing dim.

DESTROY. DEFEAT. DEFY.

Forgiveness can eradicate truth as much as pleasure escapes reality. Time to sleep then. If your dreams are death, waking up should bring pleasure. I'm pleased to announch that I sometimes question this theory.

03 April 2005

Green-Legged Banshee Foetus

Green-Legged Banshee Foetus

Inside every reflection
A reverse manifestation
Choreographed to apply
To the nature of thought
This canvas is drying
But still blurring as we move
My thoughts and I

Funny, things that destroy
An image like thought
In plants; implants; planted in us
Grown with pious soil
Potatoes spud gravity roots
Attatching to
Swans and sky larks
Attatching to
Advertised information
Torn from a picture book

Faces recognize you
Before you do them
And this face in the mirror
Funny.

25 March 2005