THE STORY OF JOHNNY WHOOPER SWAN We go to school trusting our parents. We meet a teacher there who stands up front with a big desk, and a pointer. She or he trains us in an authoritative manner. We attach mentally to a life long need for authority in order to live lives successfully. Right so far? In my case, at the age of 25 I was ready to enter the practice of law where I hoped for success and a happy life finally. Very shortly, very shortly, I became anxious. There was a foreboding. I was made more uncomfortable with each experience. Law work is nothing like what I was told it would be. The system is corrupt. But I still cling to my expectation that career success is necessary to my happiness as a man. Each day my grasp of what the fuck success amounts to after all becomes more clouded, murkier. I hear songs on the airwaves and at concerts which describe my life as the life of a fool. What am I becoming? I want to rip off my business suit to run naked in the street with my hair on fire! But I am too afraid. In strange, weird (weird comes from a word meaning wise), fragmented steps I go about a journey of my own believing myself to be the first man to have failed in such a total way which journey works so as to break up my career, end a marriage, and start an entirely new way of relating with my two children whom I love deeply. Almost magically I meet a woman who is a career counselor who asserts a beautiful message that I am made to be joyful in my work everyday and at all levels. This understanding sets me on a completely new course. It is no longer a world of systems to me but an undivided one of unlimited beauty. It reminds me of a painting. A true masterpiece. I am drawn from within to learn the truth about my identity and nobody else can teach me that. From this point onward I will use thinking capacity for mastering mechanical processes and follow my heart, which includes my whole nature, which includes your whole nature and that of every human being for all the rest. I’ll go by the name Johnny Whooper Swan who does not explain itself to anyone. By my fruits shall I be known. Watch me soar!

Thursday, August 18, 2016


WAR BIZ


Who makes baby gore
run out red on mama's clean floor? Who makes a business of war? Who killed them-
why?
and what for?

You can call me weird 'n throw me no bone
but, you can bet it was not the work of a lost rollin' stone
and you know it was not the act of a soldier, some kid actin' alone
it was a whole society of killers; not just their hired drunken army
who think difference enough reason to hack off a branch of the one living tree.
who fear so deeply they lose touch with plain reality; send death wishes across a wide open sea aimed at people...people...who with two hands, two feet, two eyes and two ears, yearn just like me.

This song's not a-pointin' at anyone else you can see it's a sad song- the saddest on Earth-it wonders only when will we show we know:
what
they want and we want are the same

Yes, what they want and we want are the same Yes, what they want and we want are the same
-to be free 

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