Meditation Poems

the sun is rising here where I am rising high shedding light on a new day and I think of you beautiful one sweet one I miss that feeling in each others' arms our hearts close beating to the same rhythm becoming one together good morning, beautiful my mind is full of thoughts and images of you all day long take a moment when you read this to have a vision of us together and I will sense it and we will share it that feeling I love you

she's there with the ugly spinning out hurtful words subject matters into sore spots in the hope that they will fester cackling and delighting in human pain she awaits her own inevitable offspring to unhappy the future with give no new home to wicked matters, simply defy them of thought let those who court the evil muse suffer their lust for better things alone until they learn the meaning of good works

if nothing can be known and nothing can be done with the unknown then I'm not human human being being a nature that shows up all by itself

along what lines does my wanting want? am I teased by what your curves promise? by what you hide inside? why am I always finally content with your image? are you not real or are you truly and only myself disguised?

not only do i project the who that i act upon i project the judge of such an act not just the doing but the examiner of the done

loneliness wears a hat on sunny days it waves at everyone and engages in an invisible contact with the almighty it forgets who is when and which is wherefore and why loneliness is cocky on sunny days it pretends friends and newspapers and cafés it plays with arrogance and sturdy mahogany furniture at a nearby antique store it puts on sundresses and wiggles it hides from itself because it can on sunny days when more obvious shadows rule

(the inescapable) the itch that never goes away the deep dark eternal longing behind all accidental creation the compulsion to extract all that one can from life it lies in the soil laughs, cries and knows you well only the present moment can be brought to light a flaming cross between what and when

(or "Just Plain Sacred") go on blah zay about it while it passes you by while it smiles and you're not there but staring downward when I was there there to worship you for what you were if your were man enough you'd know how much it matters that I was there to meet you yet you felt that you were above it beyond it or just plain sacred

grunt traffic a smile fear polite yellow sunday dress careful chinese food red bmw’s and an unsure breeze a diesel engine fights with itself a hug from behind delicious

not only do we share the same power but the same moment and in that moment neither of the completeness of us (neither himme or mehim) survived the brutality of their father but instead invested in shares of genderless tribes auctioned off with the rest of the planet's private parts to the farthest planet peopled with steeples and other remnants from other churches and beliefs until finally Himme and Mehim graduate from segway high and wave to all the innocent people

speak your patterns to me speak them adorable one cross the street turn your head look upon yourself brush your dress bite your lip find a piece of fluff on your blouse pick at it and accidentally sure, accidentally dwell there your pinch of a nipple just underneath and then look at me watching you

whatever you seek to prevent will visit your doorstep nay, camp out on your lawn until you accept it

water-tendencies and wanting-tendencies multiplied times yellow needs and purple thinking ripe sexual strawberries one more skin beginning eyes as a fountain and the faucet of a deep and always love

the promise of physical intimacy the beauty of involvement in a trusted place where angels are gluing wings to the resident frog and special light is being measured for a pair of double identical twin spirits even the slightest miscalculation can bring disaster to the gentle psyche the road of regard the ritual of respect the dance of "I come in peace" slowly, even thoughly I'm going to pieces over the holy bosoms and breasts that rests upon the patience of ever-so and only-if and even perhaps-not if she deems it the operation was successful the frog is flying in circles the twins have recovered beautifully and once again I can see myself for the first time

cars computers everything we make it’s all monkey music or maybe it’s just monkey noise monkey music (my son says) should be a cartoon— when the monkey music plays humans turn into super-heros and save the world

(working on the crown) the reference point that I come to for my self is now a bit further out out at the galactic center where orgasms play like little children dancing in yellow dress all in a circle kicking their feet because they can its hard to contract my reference point back into a single "I" for the one in my forehead senses others wise and reminds me of something futuristic and clean something less dense something I've never seen when I refer to my body now its so much more and all because this reach within has opened a door

can we agree that it is how it is? or would you have me believe that it is as much how it isn't?

are you really the keeper of how value is rendered? Is it you-- the Grand Approver? appointed by "Promise" and sanctioned by the Seven Queens of "Sacrifice" and "Pain?" or are you at it again-- trying to control what you have yet to understand because it frightens you?

tender yin still makes waves along her face around and within the cracks and crevices the wrinkles and the worn out wonder

there is nothing more exciting than honesty you want excitement deal in truth it becomes love and there's nothing nothing more to penetrate honesty is love of self sex is all you know it is of the will yet this will is as much to NOT as it is TO

warm dry socks a cool breeze on a hot day women's breasts children's laughter quiet space and time my lovers eyes the sound of distant traffic cold carbonated beverages hot morning beverages the fact of existence

your mustache is trimmed too straight your inner woman is trembling adopt some laziness and wonder play with your dick a little more

now you're looking at me and feeling the burn wondering what I think I don't that's right its been you all along welcome to the monkey house

this white boy hates blacks for hating him thinking he hates blacks when he doesn't

don't plant me in a row with all the others or I'll become a devil's weed and you'll have to kill me

men on a bench are staring at girls at a mall a mother says to her young daughters "don't encourage them"

I saw a crooked man he was smiling he was beaming he was crooked and he was true

lord god let a few of them out off from work on an extended break that they may sit at the malls and adore me as I hurry by

you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul

this old lady drives a white crown victoria and steering her best she can't seem to get around the negative vibes

hang on, does he just have his hands in his pockets?

and oddly enough the word for them was pronounced not-see

my friend takes me by the hand runs with me I become a child an animal without reflection

you stand with your feet far apart ready to fight ready to solve the world's problems I'll let you know if I find any

how odd that you are so eager to make light of who I am when I am not to be found

my imagined nation is strong in its lack of borders my imagined nation is all-inclusive and pulsates with the integrity of nature my imagined nation never co·a·lesc·es into idea but remains a thing of mystery and wonder the peace is kept in my imagined nation kept by the sheer lack of knowledge and cleverness it keeps us in wonder as we experience the great beauty

remember to check her out in order to find something wrong enough with her beauty that you will refrain from staring

the pressure to perform must begin when parents insist there is a name for a thing such as you creating an invisible awkward space between what is ever after experienced as more than one being

you are out to trust the self&mdash in some defining moment&mdash in the middle of something this could be it (that defining moment) end form end the mind or else follow the drama and give yourself to a future of endlessly disputed ideas and relationships this could be it (that defining moment)

you and I will certainly come again, but he won't

I'll be snoring six white horses when she comes

and nuclear hands with nuclear fingers have ventured into her deepest chambers without a proven care no goddess escort nothing

I was ever saying and doing what would most have you leave me the hell alone

whatever does happen must happen whatever must happen does happen

beauty is within her yet it is being told what to do and how to do it by what she thinks she wants

a made-up mind is the worst kind

my children sleep like three sweet bellows suckling at the subconscious

fear employs you this is who you work for all policy is made of fear of how everything would otherwise go something only nature can answer and just look around at nature's answers let star shapes be set aside for sand dollars

I saw a homeless couple copulate once right out in the middle of it all it was a miserable sight I thought my heart would break now I know I was just growing up

my present love is a masterpiece of stupidity it's kinetic art you really should see me in it "pathetic" --New York Times

there's a lot of television out there you don’t even have to turn it on (reruns mostly) I still love it though when the girl gets the guy

does one have to hunt down life or does it show up by itself? what was that hollow thump?! oh just my heart beating

a whore was boring Alice yet there were fireworks in the skies above and smoke and tokens of what was once itself alas, Alice only laughs

negation negation of that more negation hmph you know there is something about it

slew the golden mountain like a good logical positivist and rescued the dragon of France (who is king and bald) building a WALL pilgrims must now drill holes through this logic to rescue poetic truths from the burning bush to rescue poetic truths from the pillar of to rescue poetic truths from Eve's and Adam's garden of whatchamucallit thank you Bert

I'm not even sure that this is a poem It doesn't keep time It doesn't even rhyme It just goes about itself and remains disengaged from that same depth of experience it once sought to uncover for both itself and others but now all it can share is the memory of an echo's shadow an outline still barely discernible and unrecognized by the instincts of other poems it just goes through all these motions— motions that only resemble hope

the rapists are subtle-body fuckers they rape the god in you then call your personality names and prescribe mental treatment therapists are everywhere they want to take your matters (what really matters) into their own hands and lust after your real feelings so haunted they are by their own long lost innocence

I have this ongoing dialogue with Chicken Little about the going rate for the price of joy and it is always too much

exascerbation causes blindness and problems are healed by not trying to prevent them

though he studies by and for DEGREES he always manages to fall back on the original 360

you wear it (that smile) as if it were tomorrow you wear it (that ass) like you trust in forever-ville you wear it like breasts rising high bringing birds of love to the sky you wear it like a secret that can’t be known you wear it as if you knew what it was but you don’t you just wear it

where does it all lie? under a tree in the shade with a carbonated beverage and hot summer wind? on the ground when it’s cold and you’re using cardboard and newspaper and the smell of the earth is all that saves you? in the soft skin of someone you love and their breathing is your heartbeat? where does it all lie? where the guitar string neither breaks or fails to play? where there is nothing to bargain with but its own language? where this word can see itself for what it is?

pubic bones are only pubic bones we thought they were so much more

is believing for however long that there is an "other" in this world

will you sleep alone tonight sleep tonight alone tonight alone will you sleep alone?

high coo kerpoo big bang two and the nuclear arms race is over

life is not an isolated experience what I think about it matters my thoughts like a distant ship carry confused passengers forever arguing about right and wrong

my commitment to wholeness is far too loud for your commitment to partiality

YOU, are as special as they come (as you come) GOD, I can imagine it now you...coming

I mistook it for a drama-container when in actuality... it hones miracles like pigeons and spirals them ever upward

it’s January and cold a bright gray morning few souls are about a drunk imitates drunkenness to another drunk moments later two strangers push-start a car for another in a café a young woman rolls a pencil back and forth on a table while she reads and coffee for me remains an idea

and Christ said "irritate the people with the word of God" preach to them until they are foaming at the mouth guilt them with your misunderstandings project fears and problems onto others talk loud that you may disturb all throw a wrench into their creative day and quote the bible in an obnoxious way"

It is you who makes me evil through your love of beauty over and above your love for yourself

You may confront me for forgetting the year if I comfort you forgetting the moment and ever commend you for being and getting this out of that

you holding out bitch would there ever be life if it were up to you? would not motion itself freeze? so preoccupied with how it matches while nothing nothing NOTHING hatches! you bitch you have clomped on all the candles

you stand there feet apart coffee in hand courage building cock swinging all defiant ready for the BIG BATTLE if only you knew where it was

tired fatter angrier faster this is how you get your way

okay you all should have fallen in love with me by now it's time you spoke of it with unabashed splendor

(wake up J) posture posture posture the self is an empty shell it so happens that you believe you are real aware and watching the image measure up to pictures and ideas of who you are all the while believing there is some kind of impact beyond this illusion I wish for you to know the emptiness and learn to love it

exerting an effort to reduce the stress he centers on the idea of STRESSLESSNESS and creates even more

do it regularly until you don't want to anymore then stop doing it until you HAVE TO again

can afford to carry contempt for the mental scrambling which uncovers the understanding that he already has

that's right baby you can do without it like a dog without a bone like a rocket without fuel happy-dead like the sun or leave it until the next full moon hide from me then for a day I dare you

are the only images I can truly get behind (believe in) (sanction)

I've unconsciously launched a sort of... "get rich slow" scheme Its been bearing fruit at such an alarming rate that I may have to rename it the... "appreciate everything" scheme or maybe the... "witnessing the wonder" scheme which would replace the (tired and broken) "got to get it right" scheme or, on the other hand I'm thinking it should be the... schemelessly schemeless scheme

she walks so they bounce seriously it's her time before the fire in the other fades around her all around her she's bound to wonder why Nagasaki let us hope we can remember her as she does call the baby in

engaged in human activity are we? got to do the twist and tangle? the test is still very much "ON" my dear as much as you turn me "OFF" get it right, girl your nature is not in your head

a schoolgirl on a bicycle slows to a tilt catching herself with the ground her foot she looks "Hey mister— are you all right?"

you are not your beauty you are how you handle your beauty you are how you handle all beauty you are humility or you are arrogance

my son explores with a power that begins my world his limbs motored mechanical with god

the whims blow ever so constant in every direction in whimville

he’ll talk about anything for five minutes “give everyone five minutes” he says two minutes later he was dead

she’s the punisher it’s what she does with an alarming clunk she drops her purse frightening the café nymphs who were lingering near it’s what she does she yanks and drops her chair she punishes the table with her cup the sound resonates like a mating call to all who would be punished “come and get it!” she punishes it’s what she does

To take your energy and hold it close is the same feeling as& "Will this ever be read or understood by anyone?" "Who am I writing to? Somebody& please& help me& I'm living& "

Hey! Are you really going to stop in the middle and go write that down?

if I will be able to understand and have communicated my passion while on acid to myself when I am not this is sufficient communication for me

To: the world From: me Listen, things have really gotten out of hand everything is really deceiving there is nothing to trust except that there is nothing to trust accept that there is nothing

someone has been leaving these very confusing marks on our pavement with spray paint let's call them fools and laugh together once

when David talks about the condition the world is in it always sounds as if he's talking about a shoe that needs repair when Lisa talks about the condition the world is in it sounds as if she's talking about an oldie-but-goodie song that no longer appeals to anyone but still plays soon to be forgotten Shakespeare like everybody else was made up of many people

he's gotta brand new (spanking) pair of first cigarette jeans an alligator full of stripes along his upturned collar his cock-fighting voice splits the difference with his unfounded unpounded unrounded ideas he's an american commodity his words are those of a few untamed unnamed unarmed warriors fighting for reality squinting as he drags he only half understands the not-quite-yet-english-speaking fellow next to him who has worked ten times harder to take the same direction even now he can feel himself shrugging his shoulders

begging toward an empty sky a sigh and then one star it whispers with her heart and she knows her time will come like a golden cross like a pillow lost like two fairy tales meeting in the middle of a book discussing destiny and rhyme a cool breeze closes her eyes the planet comforts her and she sways and plays with her twilight answer

oddly enough I trust it anyway

(not mine) ‘twas Chicago o’clock and all was hell elevated trains whispered loud sadnesses waiting letting time kill itself when a woman, human answered my shoe admiring gaze with a similar gesture in addition to enough sarcasm and bitterness to destroy us all with the press of a simple button I drifting inside out of myself examine my polluted sky for an answer and find none

she does her own tune you can tell by the way by the way she doesn't hum to the one that he does

(poetry contest, Chicago 1985) a heavwy emplhasis isb plafced mon writking fodr anb objecdive aubience ravetr then van a from ovp therapsy fpor vthe arktist Ny brules: healp overs and youp healp yourbelf healp yourbelf and youp healp overs

("...now she's either thinking...") (a) I love him. (b) I love him...but I want to see this other guy too thereby sacrificing him. (c) What should I have for breakfast?

name it what you will this is how it breaks down: people losing another grasp under ease

you know it so your eyes dart from ventricle to vendor rendering you... helplessly alone in your knowledge your skin self your condition (that human one)

Sherlock found the key; his prism he smiles witnessing the cataclysm “Alas it’s all a slow explosion, our origin in motion!” “What is it Holmes?” “I’ve got it Watson! Watch the colors carefully. You’ll see.” “By George, I think you’re right! They’re all becoming white and tracing all this back will only show that then is only now... and that’s precisely how this relativity was all begun. My God Holmes!” “Yes Watson?” “Its all one! How did you...?” “Elementally”

I've thought about it I used to get upset about it but now I'm tired and I just don't want to think about it I've thought about it I used to get upset about it but now I'm tired and I just don't want to think about it I've thought about

(predictions of an open past) trance-like he wanders through you examining your works looking backward he laughs then cries then understands looking forward he sympathizes where he is now he can see us coming like a hungry hurricane

this woman (night (England) (wet) (cobblestone) and this man (top hat) (bustle) (a long cane) (a slow tear) kick the ground in their minds and with their fear (pelvic muscles tighten) centering towards (tight jaws) (a twisting glance) the back of their necks (completed smile) (a lifted ear) they hear the distant sound of horses

Asian Pizza Delivery Man: That will be $6.95 Hungry Twenty-Seven Year Old Male: (making conversation) It’s getting cold out Asian Pizza Delivery Man: (mumbling under his breath) Should be going the other way

that poem that says what you've been trying to say make this poem that poem that poem that fills that special place with warm okayness find everything my friend that you can...everything my dear friend that you need please in this poem

of My Want one dot among forty million dots on a dot that circles a dot with nine other dots the circled dot is one of a billion dots in a spiral dot this spiral dot is inside a dot with many other dots this local group of dots is only a dot among billions of dots that make up one dot

to Grown Up Wandering Wondering Man (of her dog) "Don't worry she doesn't bite. All she does is bark"

see if you can find the deep complexities the philosophical implications the basic underlying meaning in these words

they're pouring concrete logic over your poetic truths and cutting geometric clouds to shape a mind