Meditation Poems

(an anti-technology sentiment) it's time it's time for rebirth it's time for death it's time for the world to wave goodbye to the crushed bricks of metal ancient cars that only big bang two can take away it's time for a renaissance it's time for change for simplification where tools aren't needed to fix the tools that fix the machines that make the tools

fear is a scavenger hunt in and of the mind when we look we see desire and pain projected we tremble at the sight and all of action falls we create instead a fear we grow it with our minds we feed it with our eyes blindly looking for the thing that's not there and gnidnif it

as an archeologist making love to himself is the farthest thing from his mind and yet for him to dig overturn hide 'n' seek under-look pull, find after hours of hunting tracking the dry dessert one alone he realizes the tracks in the snow in the sand in the land are his own behold, self discovered

ever notice how an espresso machine sounds like a scream a desperate baby's cry I'll have an invisible umbilical aching whole-milk caramel latte to go please

(a poem about golfing, or other) like a golf ball like a cat, yes I clamor toward the hole in the one dark mystery of emptiness arrived, falling, surprised I hang on for dear life claws deeply set attached somehow still to all the clamoring wanting to repeat it again and again with every woman so as not to forget this endless game between text and context sexed and non-sexed

deep poem from inside at the core of this as I meditate here sitting, sitting still breathing slowly steady old emotions stirring rising, releasing whimper, deep breath moan, groan, breathe clearing gravity out allowing spirit in deep within lighter being, being, being

(a poem about social networking) Blog My Twit I wonder if you would mind blogging my twit for a bit while I skype my buzz and digg my fritter scoop my frizz and blit my blither thanks

we are not mistaken when we witness beauty and are removed from ourselves with awe and breathlessness this is THE beauty that can and will mend all separation for all beauty is one it is THE beauty the absolute truth in form, expressing

there is a commune (or community) in Missouri called east wind southern Missouri just north of Arkansas a couple of summers ago I was one of those hippies walking around and living in the woods of Missouri my wife and I and daughter visited there lived there? for three months my daughter is living there now I wish she was here in Colorado where it's getting cold and you can smell the beginnings of snow