words

i can’t hold my mind 
the hostage of itself 
wanderings of a mime 
and loss in the rest

float on down stream
with the rats and the bees 
killing all that they see

where has the time gone? 
oh i know
its right here beside me 
upset and renewing 
accordingly
and consistently

knowledge of everything 
won’t make you less lonely
it brings only more questions 
the desires of a fool
falling out toward the seaside 
calling you a phony

i don’t care what you think
you are as insignificant as myself 
in the end
where it all goes
is back into the ground
don’t get too self righteous
tell me i read into things too much 
you think im lying at every corner 
from reality,
i believe you’ve lost touch 

my dharma of mindful zen

one step at a time
progress to the reverse
theres no forward
across the universe
yet we rehearse
telling our stories
making up fables
who among us is willing and able?
it's all in good fun
when theres no war to be won.
the song is unsung
when all's said and done.

you fish for your food
repair your old shoes
taking good care of an ever aging you
old age and disease
wisdom encased
what will we learn
from being deceased
in a fate we all face.

let it all drop
fall to its end
because the beginning
is non different
from the end, the zen
mother goose,
the writing pen,
the whole world
and single women and men.
you are nothing special,
yet you are all that is.
duality attacks
bringing inner peace
a war of kindness
that will not cease
and that is what i call my dharma.

art is suffering

they say to make art

first you must starve,

you need to wait until the words pour out of you in a fiery horrid blaze

they need to drain you of all emotion 

leaving your chalice empty after you pour its contents on the page

they need to reflect the pain you feel inside

then they need to make you relive it

see it over and over

and make others who read it feel the same

maybe that's true

but maybe, just maybe

these words can heal

they can be the outlet for pain

a place to keep all of the bad so you can feel good

maybe the happier poems are accompanied by depressed poets

maybe the depressed horrible poems are where the true happiness is from.

mississippi liv'n

my lord it's lazy in the south, it's early april and already its hot as a vermont summer. claire and i have stopped at a hare krishna farm for a little while. we are learning about herbs, gardening, and krishna consciousness. everyone in this town is a vegetarian and spiritually conscious. i have not met an unkind person yet. our dog is free our space is our own, as well as our day. there is an incredible amount to learn here, i can't wait.

You can be happy

hopeful and cheery
seems spiteful and dreary
when met with the query
'well, what will you do?'
the future thats promised
to a young starving artist
is among all the blindest
conspirator fools

my life is together
i am living, am i not?
my battles won in moments
by having not fought
yes, i do as i like
and no, i may not take your word
for many verbal lashings
come into the world
i will always be chastised
i will always be wrong
if i can not please you
then i wont reach anyone
i risk sounding selfish
and yet i don't care
if i cant make you happy
i know i can get there

you can be happy
simply try
you can by happy
with life passing by
you can be happy
just don't give up
because when you are happy
you feel you're on top

no worries

fill your hearts
fill your mugs
the time will come
for swill and hugs
beasts of men
and the timid alike
will gather together
in the course of the night
they will be in peace
hearty song and dance
their celebration
their only stance
no perils of war
politics of others
no fighting for
some unknown brothers
just party, be merry
no worries, to carry

our time in Xanth (florida)

I had always imagined this place to be somewhat magical, and in many respects it has been. For four months we have been traversing through this warm state. we have experienced many miracles in unforeseen places. we have been befriended, betrayed, helped and hurt, all of which has left us stronger and more enlightened than ever before. i will always remember this place, all of the misadventures of Edgewater, the kindness found in Titusville, the insane laws of Sarasota, the great massing in Ocala, the humble caring of Port Saint Lucie, the angry (yet forgiving) police of Stuart, and the long tedious route one. though i will not miss florida, i will still look back on it fondly, and probably never come back to this ant ridden state ever again. currently we are spending our last few days here, then its off to a new farm.