The power in the knowledge of what is truly 

present is astounding in its reach. The mango is 

present but ownership of it is illusory. And yet a 

man has been known to slay another for the 

perceived right to the fruit of a particular mango 

tree. What ignorance! That level of stupidity is 

difficult to comprehend even. It is but a small 

step from there to the waging of a war at the 

cost of thousands of lives to establish a claim to 

a forest. 

The forest may be ours by the terms of surrender 

but at what cost? Nobody can measure it. It goes 

on forever. I don't know about you but I'm tired of 

this shit.

Whats happening to me

Wager not my voice at the marketplace o' marriage

and a Fortune company

support o' some plotted disinfected family tree's

just not in the cards for me.

let me sing my own tune

but in the choir of a life-

a life that's honest 'n free; and

let me be still

let me be still


til I can give voice to what's happening to me

Lay odds on the gamble that is a certainty; something that 

comes forth in a squawk or a sigh;

a long shot from heav'n with syrup 'n greens and a slice 

o' grandma's rhubarb pie.

Say I'm a wild card- say I'm no damn good- don't even 

mention me in yore Last Will;

and, when you see I've stopped m' coughing' 

carry my coffin up Boot Hill.

For now, just sit still...let me unlock my notched grooved raw 

boned love sick key.

And sing a loud cry to the blue, blue, blue sky for the need of 

a boy to be free.

For K

What Happened To Us?

Into every boy's (girl's) life the first pals come. Easy as pie are those days and nights when together they play. Unnoticed altogether is the drummer who beats out the rhythm of their lives together as one child. So long as we listen it goes and we know not what we have. The day will come when the uncomplicated simplicity of childhood will shatter and split into individual dreams as if the drummer abandoned them, but that is not the case. That being so, one can never buy back for any price what he had. He has it still.

Whatever happened to Winky, my buddy? It's been about...what? 20 
years! For me, perhaps others as well, the loss will be too much for us 
to bear even though we remain completely ignorant. What happened?  
What did we lose? 


Theories rise like hot cakes. A whole entire career system is built 
around a loss we did not lose and what to do about that. We turn to 
anything we find which blocks the pain. We begin to gossip and talk 
nonsense about other people and their habits, traits, odd mannerisms.  
Arrange, then constantly rearrange the camps of who we like and who 
we do not, and who we like most and least. Altogether classify, judge, 
and arrange a world in our heads that does not otherwise exist. In this 
world good people and bad people dwell. People who do right and 
people who do wrong are placed there. There live friends and enemies. It (our world) splits and divides and shatters until it is very complex. 



Now, there are priests, lawgivers, therapists, teachers, counselors, 
artists, entertainers, politicians, the police and judges and juries, 
firefighters, soldiers, guards, rebels, arsonists, terrorists, nutritionists, 
yoga teachers, real estate agents, accountants, entrepreneurs, and all 
the rest. Books galore are written! Always and throughout, there 
remains a ghost world, a reality, that becomes more strange to us as 
we work out the terms of our world, the one we created, and it 
becomes even threatening; so, we discover ways to shut it off. We 
label the ghost world to be fantasy, illusion, to be a pack of 
dangerous dream worlds, nonsense, evil, darkness, all to be avoided 
as populated by evil spirits, witches, fairies, wizards, outlaws, beasts, 
and such. It is in fact the real one. And it is what we lost when we 
gave it up for a handful of shiny, worthless beads.

CONSIDER THE COMICAL

Consider the long series of funny mistakes of a lifetime. Many are sad many are happy. Some cause pain. Others save someone from pain. Why do we take measurements? Are most of us trying to improve? What is it we hope to make better? Is it wise to try to change a human being? Who carries the gauge? Who is the standard? If I tamper with any of my traits what else do I fuck up?

Somebody wise suggested long ago the human be taken to its maker if someone wants it to be fixed. That alone can judge its situation. What if anyone who adopts this stance is never going to find it appropriate to change anybody else or themselves? (God being God, that is.) If you're looking for a saint, just pick one, anyone will do. Let the Eye be the judge.

It is easy, almost automatic, to point the finger, three point back to you. It's so whether you are searching for good or bad. Saints and sinners are the same people. It is about time to make the leap to realize finally that we are one. Only from that place will we know peace and harmony. Something like a melting takes place inside. What was frozen is made soft, pliable, yielding, and universally undeniable.

Teddy Roosevelt: Sheriff Garrett, do you expect me to 

believe you bested the Kid?

Garrett nods agreement, head bowed, rocking back and 

forth, as if to say I had a hard time with that one myself.

Garrett: Conventions, Mister President. I was standin' on 

convention and on the edge at that...my religion, my few 

acres of land, my wife and family, a job, a future as a 

respected member of convention...standin' in the 

presence of non-convention in Billy feelin' a strong 

passion for the need to exceed all convention and follow 

a notion he is the human and I am not. And as the scene 

ends, organ music signals an important moment.