Don’t You Think
Poetry
Poems Don’t You Think
I Sought a Teacher
I sought a teacher but found only myself
A rich and vibrant tapestry
Engraved by a dull and boring life
No high drama or celebrity for me
Just the mundane
So why should such ordinariness be picked
To soar the pre universe with the creator
The master of the gods
Before the before
An idleness that presumed
And it was, it is
Fools we roam the restrictions of our minds
And feel the importance of high intellect
In our own right kings, gods even
We control, we choose
We dole out life and death
Importance our favour
But I, lesser unimportant me
Have chanced the acquaintance of a lesser importance
A couldn’t care less zing of a thing
Who thought this whole thing up
Nothing matters to him, her, it, whatever
It is not impressed by importance or unimportance
It just sails on by viewing the day
This greatness, this god maker just happened on by and said hi
And somewhere I said wow!
But my important mind thought, go away, I’m trying to “like!” live here,
See! That’s the way it is
The all ness of all is there all the time
But the important mind is busy living
It has no time for trivialities, for things not of it’s world
If it’s not hard currency or sex, forget it
I can have god any Sunday I want for a pound on the plate
And if you’re content with god
Well
See it’s all in the mind
All this importance stuff
With god at the top of the pyramid
But if you can just get out of the mind
Out of the vast production network
Out of the defined
Stop knowing and then you start to know
And it’s just empty, ordinary, with a high zing content
And if you’re content to be a god
Or to know a god, or bow before a god
Well that’s all right
But, but, but
That’s not the way it is
For when you’re all important stupid mind shuts up
Takes a break
Then maybe the enchilada might pop around for a chat
It’s like this
God’s are ten a penny
Masters, teachers, guides, angels, saints and sinners
You choose
And you do every day
It’s a roundabout but it’s time to get off
And feel
The timelessness that called time
And if you want to be a sinner or a god then your it
Only your not
For there are no sinners and no gods
That’s all mind stuff
There’’’’’s only the zing
The broad expanse of nothing
Moseying on down the line
Have a nice day now
All Crows Come Home to Roost
All crows come home to roost
Just like your dirty little secret
Even if you fool the world
You’ll never fool yourself
And isn’t it a bummer
Knowing just what you are
All Tickets are for the Titanic
The ship is holed below the water
It’s but a matter of time
Till what must be, must be
Deny, defy, be angry, cry
Do what you want
Do what you must
In the end it comes down to
What you’re willing to settle for
You are the price you’re willing to pay
Rules are for fools
The owners the thief
All tickets are for the Titanic
Darkness Yawns
Like endless cars stacked
In cosmic gridlock
Waiting for the lights to turn
For their chance to pass
Going nowhere
Waiting
Endlessly waiting
Only to go further into nowhere ness
A ray of light shot and lit creation
Darkness unbothered yawned
For it is wise
And it knows
That passing is passing
Flickering embers tell of a time
Darkness yawns and waits
For the penny to drop
But it never does
If you’re going, you’re already gone
Shouted the magician at the wind
Waiting has merely distorted reality
And then the lights change
And the traffic flows
And it’s you
And another beast enters the pen
And the butcher’s knife finds its mark
Going is gone
And still darkness yawns
And all the butcher ever says is next
Did You Ever
Did you ever get a feeling
That you just couldn’t grasp
Like a word stuck on the tip of a tongue
That wouldn’t pop out
Did you ever feel somewhere
That time was a trick
Ticking clocks and rotting flesh
That really had nothing to do with you
Somewhere in your belly you knew
The smell of fiction lingered
Somewhere on the tip of a thought
That just wouldn’t flow
Like a private joke that everyone gets
Except the mind
So you know that you know
But you don’t
And anyway it’s time for work
There are bills to be paid and mouths to be fed
And craving and needing and wanting and fear
So much fear
There’s just no time for thoughts that won’t turn
Ah! Life a melodrama for the ages
Waiting for the final curtain call
For the actors to reveal themselves
Fishy
A foolish fish swallows a worm
A cynical fish talks of hooks in the face of a free meal
A political fish berates the cynic
And the ruling classes fish
But then I guess that you are different
There’s nothing fishy about you or the worms you swallow
Crafty morsels concealing deceit
Words, ideals, notions, bait
It is the nature of fishermen to fish
To harvest the resource that wait to be harvested
There’s one born every minute
Waiting in line, you and your kind, to greedily swallow
The worm, the hook, the promise, the fool
The peasant a swallowing the gentry’s stool
There’s no shame in dying or even being eat
But when you thank the diner you deserve all you get
Funny How We Remember
Funny how we remember what we want
The nightmare in the ecstasy
The loss in the victory
Something happened
So basic so simple
The fault always in perception
The world from a point of view
A personal fantasy
Through a keyhole glimpsed
Good days come and go
Swallowed seldom savoured
Shrines honour our hurts
I Only Work for the Body
I only work for the body
If it doesn’t get what it wants it sulks
And sends it’s buddy the mind
To beat up on me
Rampant emotion wins out every time
Personally I’d rather goof off
Surf in the depths of me
Ah the pleasure of it
Hanging out with alien notions
Shooting the breeze with eternity
Day in day out at the office
Fries your head like an egg
Sunny side up gone hard
Life sucks and then you die
Heart sick for passion
Interred
Interred in a bargain basement
Exhuming the discarded remains
Of books that died a death
A title arose that read
The afterlife
And I thought oh man
You mean there’s more to come
When this stretch is done
Consecutive sentencing
Does eternity knows no mercy
I who merely came about
Sentenced to forever
Without leave to appeal
Without hope of remission
Panic processed me
My haunted mind raced
To hell and back in hope
Is it really true I implored
Is there no parole board
Does life actually mean life
No time off for good behaviour
Am I ubiquitous by nature or sentence
The corpses on the corners
On the streets and on the prowl
Solemn faced busily pretending
Lest reality spill the beans
Their long dead vacant eyes
Betraying their zombie nature
Nodded and then groaned
It goes on and it goes on
And just when you think it’s over
You think wait a minute
Who just thought that thought
And your heart drops
And your stomach churns
And you know it goes on
My empty heart howled out
To any holy on high
Who would dare to take my call
Cannot even death
Save me from this
No came a voice mail in reply
Though you may try
You silly boy
You simply simply cannot die
If you need to speak with an operator
Please hold the line for a lifetime or two
I hung up
Mind is warden
Mind is warden
Sentence and cell
Thought is burning
Inferno and hell
Want the warlocks
Soul bound spell
Silent stillness
Anguish quell
On a Dot of Nothingness
On a dot of nothingness
I built a mansion
Painted its fickle façade
In the style of the day
Filled it with useless trivia
And tasteless trinkets
Called it by a name
Then registered it
At the county seat
Of nowhere
As my royal me ness
Now I mingle at parties
With all the best mansions
Only they call themselves people
I say nothing and pretend
That I’m someone too
Better safe than sorry
You just never know
How belief will react
When confronted with truth
All the mansions built on nothing
Strutting like peacocks
Life would be hilarious
Only nobody is laughing
Reality Woke
Reality woke up one peculiar day
And realizing that it wasn’t asleep
Promptly passed out
From the fright of seeing itself face to face
White sharks and bunnies have a lot in common
They eat for a living
Flesh cuts blood bleeds fear craves
While man sleeps through the perfect nightmare
I am potential and its myriad possibilities
My only problem is you
Standing between me and control
Flavouring my world to suit your taste
In the end the winner waits to lose
The young grow old
While the living queue for death
What else is there to do
Every Oak
Every oak knows that it was once an acorn
The acorn must trust to belief
On the road that stretches before it
To what will be
If like the acorn you could believe
And bare your soul in that hope
Trusting in what you are to take the day
Being in the face of becoming
Without the courage to be what it is
An acorn is but an acorn
Only by exposing it’s vulnerability
Can it become an oak
And you my son, my acorn
Will you stand tall
Will you bare your soul for me
Will you be an oak
Bag Lady
The bits and pieces of a life
Stuffed unceremoniously in bags
Overflow from this jumble of a trolley
That I appear to have become
So much junk, so much me
I’m overflowing I’m overwhelmed
I’m overcome, so I become
Whatever bag that claims me on whatever day
Don’t you ever feel like that
Like you don’t known what you are
And life being the drama queen
Pouts and insists
You’ve got to be something
So you reach into your bag of tricks and you’re it
Some something that you horded
Somewhere sometime yesterday
So long ago you’d forgotten
But it hasn’t
It’s always yesterday’s leftovers
Stale and unappealing
That fill me, that become me
The dead of another time
Haunting my zombie carcass
My all-important life pans out to be
The past waiting in ambush
In a bag in a trolley
That I call me
The Dice Rolls
The dice rolls
Chips are placed
Chance tumbles
Fortune fovours the brave
Luck favours the believer
Life the dice
Is tossed and tumbles
Its only promises is chance
You the chip are your own wager
You bet what you are
On the chance of your choice
Chance is the nature of reality
Choice is the nature of man
Luck is the nature of perceiving
In the end it’s all a game
Dice chip choice chance
Playing out at a casino called you
The Weatherman
The weatherman said
Tomorrow will be changeable
Go away I thought
Only in Ireland
In India they have gurus
Who teach of impermanence
The hidden nature of reality
In Ireland we have the rain
Any self-respecting paddy knows
That a soft morning becomes a dirty evening
Permanent impermanence eternally changeable
In Ireland even the weathermen are enlightened
There’s More Than One Way
There’s more than one way to skin a cat
Belief believes that its way is the only way
But I who have skinned know
That you can go out the in door
What is a cul de sac to a tiger tank
What is an ocean to a fish
Can a mouth that smiles sneer
Can love hate
Who Am I
Who am I
I appear to be consciousness
Remembering
Without the remembering
I am but consciousness
Without the consciousness
I appear to disappear
Who am I
When waking sleeps
And dreams are stilled
A dark thought indeed
From the darkest of nights
When death calls to claim its purse
Will consciousness remember to wake
Who is this consciousness anyway
Will Elvis Walk Smugly
Will Elvis walk smugly through the VIP gate of heaven
While Einstein and Padre Pio, Jesus and Buddha foxtrot on the lawn
And throw back margaritas in his honour
Oblivious to the terror of the multitudes waiting outside in the cold for judgment
God slips back stage passes to his chosen few, but what of the rest
The un chosen, the rabble, the people
Those born without the benefit of crown or genius, virtue or silver spoon
On bended knee with bowed head they must approach this their god
He who created them as they are and now has the audacity to be pissed
Will he rebuke them for the crime of being as he made them
Will he cast them to eternal hellfire for the sin of being loyal to his design
Will the virtuous sit on their high stools and applaud loudly
As their patron dishes out summary justice to the lesser mortals
Is the deck of karma loaded
Has the tone-deaf singer lost before the first card is dealt
Or is it all just a pile of shit
God and virtue and right and wrong
This monster of a god makes Vlad the Impaler a nice guy
Tell me wouldn’t you rather rot in hell with ordinary unblessed men
Than forever cower in fear of a vengeful tyrant in a heaven packed with his favourites
On whom he bestowed everything and more than was necessary
To ensure they would proudly amble up to his pearly gates
Knowing full well that a royal welcome awaited
And as they are greeted with open arms and heavenly quires
Their less fortunate, less blessed fellow men look on in awe
And tremble in fear at the mere thought of this their god, their creator, their father
Who endowed them so shabbily and who now waits to judge them by the highest standards
It makes hell seem like a nice place full of nice people
And heaven and it’s arseholes a place to be definitely avoided
Or perhaps like the Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella it’s all made up
Another fairy tale to scare the kids into doing what they’re told
Is it possible that it’s all about control
White men in black suits lying through their teeth
So they don’t have to stand in line with the rest of us
They get to do what they want and we get to help them out
And then we get to thank them for the honour of carrying their bags
Heaven like hope is a scam
The old maxim ‘there’s one born every minute’ refer’s to you
Yeah it’s a con game and you’ve being stung
Wrong Presuming Right
I’m sure it takes a mountain of hatred
To stand beside a living breathing man
And sever the head from his body
It’s not like incinerating a family
With a high tech bomb
That just takes greed and indifference
Both however require the blessing of opinion
The belief that your cause is the greater
That you matter and the other is expendable
Long alter the blood has dried
The stupid wise will contemplate
Which was the greater ill
Man is a futile sorry beast
Inventing love so he can slaughter it
And then looking for meaning in why
Why not if you can asks the beast
Why not indeed comes the echo
Of wrong presuming right
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