Sleeping
Your sweet smell
Blanketed up as the day you were born
So simple and so beautiful
I saw you
Delicate and tired
Gracefully frustrated
But never flinching
A perfect cool
So beautiful, soft, tiny
I could pick you up and put you under my coat
I want to take you anywhere you want to go
I want more life
I want to have roots,
I want to sleep in a bed, I want to wake up next to you.
Look into your eyes for hours
Sit and neither one of us has to say anything
And feel fine about that.
You, my flower of good and evil
Attitude and bravery
A warrior of heaven and earth
And hell followed with you
An old soul with young skin
You and me
One under the sky
Stars floating in the dark
You make me want more life
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Nature of the Buddha
Burn me alive
Immolate myself
Inundated with combustibles
I am the Buddha
Cut off my toe
My mom motioned for me to get in the car
I was gagging because I had just drank bleach
Put on my seatbelt
Now cut off my toe, goddamn it
Cut that motherfucking shit off
I am the Buddha
The tiger was hungry
So I fed myself to it
I am the Buddha
The teeth scraped on my bone
It was the sound of every sound all at once
Swan dive out into oblivion
For I am a microcosm,
Locked in solitary confinement for one year
I come out harder than the walls that hold me in
The sound of the metal doors
And men hollering
It is the sound of every sound all at once
The sound of the universe
I am an example
I am the Buddha
I can hear a cloud pass overhead
I can feel the rhythm of the blood and feel cells multiply
I can track you by yesterday’s shadow
I find the first impression is usually the correct one
I’m a living man.
I’m a living man anchored in the physical
The lovely physical
There is no instinct for the holy
It’s like walking barefoot over broken glass
Draw in the senses
The way a turtle draws its limbs into its shell
Cut off my own eyelids
So that I may never know sleep
I am the open eye of eternity
We are not even a blink to the creator
Our history versus the history of time
I am the Buddha
Immolate myself
Inundated with combustibles
I am the Buddha
Cut off my toe
My mom motioned for me to get in the car
I was gagging because I had just drank bleach
Put on my seatbelt
Now cut off my toe, goddamn it
Cut that motherfucking shit off
I am the Buddha
The tiger was hungry
So I fed myself to it
I am the Buddha
The teeth scraped on my bone
It was the sound of every sound all at once
Swan dive out into oblivion
For I am a microcosm,
Locked in solitary confinement for one year
I come out harder than the walls that hold me in
The sound of the metal doors
And men hollering
It is the sound of every sound all at once
The sound of the universe
I am an example
I am the Buddha
I can hear a cloud pass overhead
I can feel the rhythm of the blood and feel cells multiply
I can track you by yesterday’s shadow
I find the first impression is usually the correct one
I’m a living man.
I’m a living man anchored in the physical
The lovely physical
There is no instinct for the holy
It’s like walking barefoot over broken glass
Draw in the senses
The way a turtle draws its limbs into its shell
Cut off my own eyelids
So that I may never know sleep
I am the open eye of eternity
We are not even a blink to the creator
Our history versus the history of time
I am the Buddha
A 5 second excerpt from a crazy person's world...
loud heavy metal music playing in the background...
...The world is on fire! ice cold and bare skinned, beautiful and terrific. I don’t want to know, I don’t want to.
Malcolm X pipes in and says, “Knowledge is power.”
I break free of my thought tangent.
Then the Lord of the Rings said, “But with great power comes great responsibility.”
Then Dr. Dre said, “Slim Shady you’s a base head, look at you, your face is red.”
And I’m like “Shut up!” to everyone but they keep talking like I’m not even there...
...The world is on fire! ice cold and bare skinned, beautiful and terrific. I don’t want to know, I don’t want to.
Malcolm X pipes in and says, “Knowledge is power.”
I break free of my thought tangent.
Then the Lord of the Rings said, “But with great power comes great responsibility.”
Then Dr. Dre said, “Slim Shady you’s a base head, look at you, your face is red.”
And I’m like “Shut up!” to everyone but they keep talking like I’m not even there...
The Solution
The Solution is to feel like there is no problem. The world is not coming to an end, humans are not going to go extinct, not anytime soon at least, and the media is not liberal or conservative, it’s just pessimistic. Change how you react to the situation and the rest of the situation will eventually change.
I think unhappiness is the price we pay for not realizing the infinite.
And most history can be illustrated by one image: a boot stomping on a human face.
Man, most days, especially when I’m at work, or dealing with people who are upset about something, I just want to say to some people: Do you realize how unimportant we all are? Our lives have some greater meaning and purpose that we may never be aware of, and your petty insignificant problems, as well as mine, are utterly meaningless in the grand scheme of things. The universe is too grand for a person to realize, we cannot grasp the infinite, our puny little animal brains cannot even understand our own puny little animal brains. Go somewhere and think about that motherfucker! Open your eyes for half a microsecond, and see the light, until you are asking yourself which way back? Which way back to our petty insignificant lives? You are a goddamn human being and not a worker bee or an army ant, so stop acting like one and either start thinking more, or just stop trying to think at all.
The world is a cold, hard place, and most people on the planet are dumb, illiterate, malnourished, and obsessed with having more money and sex than they have any use for. That is the way it is, so cheer up and stop hassling each other. That is the way it is and you have every right to complain, but just be nice. Be polite. Say please and thank you, and not in a sarcastic tone of voice. Don’t take stuff that doesn’t belong to you, don’t lie, don’t take unfair advantage of other people’s kindness. Accept that some things are going to happen and you acting like a dickhead about it won’t change it.
If you do, people will respect you for it a lot more than they respect a boot in the face.
I think unhappiness is the price we pay for not realizing the infinite.
And most history can be illustrated by one image: a boot stomping on a human face.
Man, most days, especially when I’m at work, or dealing with people who are upset about something, I just want to say to some people: Do you realize how unimportant we all are? Our lives have some greater meaning and purpose that we may never be aware of, and your petty insignificant problems, as well as mine, are utterly meaningless in the grand scheme of things. The universe is too grand for a person to realize, we cannot grasp the infinite, our puny little animal brains cannot even understand our own puny little animal brains. Go somewhere and think about that motherfucker! Open your eyes for half a microsecond, and see the light, until you are asking yourself which way back? Which way back to our petty insignificant lives? You are a goddamn human being and not a worker bee or an army ant, so stop acting like one and either start thinking more, or just stop trying to think at all.
The world is a cold, hard place, and most people on the planet are dumb, illiterate, malnourished, and obsessed with having more money and sex than they have any use for. That is the way it is, so cheer up and stop hassling each other. That is the way it is and you have every right to complain, but just be nice. Be polite. Say please and thank you, and not in a sarcastic tone of voice. Don’t take stuff that doesn’t belong to you, don’t lie, don’t take unfair advantage of other people’s kindness. Accept that some things are going to happen and you acting like a dickhead about it won’t change it.
If you do, people will respect you for it a lot more than they respect a boot in the face.
Unspoken Communication
Unspoken communication
It’s a royal flush
It’s a hard knock life
Smell the dust cooking
It collects under the sun
Better than anything out there
I stopped and slipped like ice
Slid across time
History repeats itself
Fuck it, life repeats itself
Day in day out
Settle down in the house like little kids at nap time
I could never go to sleep
And everyday the sun comes up a little sooner
And the sun goes down a little farther
I can smell it in the air like I could smell winter coming a mile away
Who the fuck are all these people? What am I doing here? Is there purpose? What am I doing? I look around and I can’t believe that I am around all these people. I am not putting them down, I don’t say that in an insulting way. I just can’t believe life. I I can’t process it all. It is all too much to take in. It is like there is too much. Too much of everything. How can I look at someone in front of me? I look down and then look back at them. There are too many of them. I can’t realize anything. This is derealization, this is not realness. How do I know everyone? How did I get here? It is too much to process.
It’s a royal flush
It’s a hard knock life
Smell the dust cooking
It collects under the sun
Better than anything out there
I stopped and slipped like ice
Slid across time
History repeats itself
Fuck it, life repeats itself
Day in day out
Settle down in the house like little kids at nap time
I could never go to sleep
And everyday the sun comes up a little sooner
And the sun goes down a little farther
I can smell it in the air like I could smell winter coming a mile away
Who the fuck are all these people? What am I doing here? Is there purpose? What am I doing? I look around and I can’t believe that I am around all these people. I am not putting them down, I don’t say that in an insulting way. I just can’t believe life. I I can’t process it all. It is all too much to take in. It is like there is too much. Too much of everything. How can I look at someone in front of me? I look down and then look back at them. There are too many of them. I can’t realize anything. This is derealization, this is not realness. How do I know everyone? How did I get here? It is too much to process.
Sunset On The Hottest Day Of The Year
An anonymous city
Non-descript
Downtown, uptown, city center
Suburbs, boroughs, and projects
City of industry, city of development
City in depression
Globalization, new world, old money, new welfare
EBTs and DSS
Two buses, a trolley and a train
Standing on a rooftop with a bunch of plastic buckets
Waiting for rain
A nightmare cityscape shrouded in haze
Get up early
Work like a dog
All day
And you can’t have shit to say
Go home and shower
Singing fight the power
Sunset on the hottest day of the year
Little kids playing on the sidewalk
Blisters on your feet from walking all day
Smoking Pall Malls and waiting for the bus
A basketball hoop with no net
Barb wire encloses a vacant lot
Littered with dandelions
Dead grass sprouting from cracks in the concrete
The sun sets on our nameless city
The remains of a long gone day
Drive west down the boulevard
Squint your eyes and tailgate
Three boys in tanktops walk down their street
Drinking Gatorade
Shoulders up like they runnin the joint
They take the stairs up to their duplex
Watch the Simpsons and the lottery drawing on TV
Gray cats mill around beneath the dinner table
Waiting for cheese raviolis, fritos, and dunkin donuts
Sunset on a nameless city
Sit in traffic and stair out the window
I can feel the salt on my skin from sweating so much
It’s a long way home
The Zen of the traffic jam
The shrill droning of the radio
My back stuck to the seat
It’s a bitch out there
Flesh and bone and tooth decay just for today
But this soul is forever
Energy transubstantiates and I ride the bus
This overwhelming, daunting world
This sawdust and red brick world
Find solace in a graffiti’d up bathroom
Fluorescent lighting
Stale piss and cigarette smoke permeate the atmosphere
Silence and empty eyes stare back from behind a cracked mirror
Non-descript
Downtown, uptown, city center
Suburbs, boroughs, and projects
City of industry, city of development
City in depression
Globalization, new world, old money, new welfare
EBTs and DSS
Two buses, a trolley and a train
Standing on a rooftop with a bunch of plastic buckets
Waiting for rain
A nightmare cityscape shrouded in haze
Get up early
Work like a dog
All day
And you can’t have shit to say
Go home and shower
Singing fight the power
Sunset on the hottest day of the year
Little kids playing on the sidewalk
Blisters on your feet from walking all day
Smoking Pall Malls and waiting for the bus
A basketball hoop with no net
Barb wire encloses a vacant lot
Littered with dandelions
Dead grass sprouting from cracks in the concrete
The sun sets on our nameless city
The remains of a long gone day
Drive west down the boulevard
Squint your eyes and tailgate
Three boys in tanktops walk down their street
Drinking Gatorade
Shoulders up like they runnin the joint
They take the stairs up to their duplex
Watch the Simpsons and the lottery drawing on TV
Gray cats mill around beneath the dinner table
Waiting for cheese raviolis, fritos, and dunkin donuts
Sunset on a nameless city
Sit in traffic and stair out the window
I can feel the salt on my skin from sweating so much
It’s a long way home
The Zen of the traffic jam
The shrill droning of the radio
My back stuck to the seat
It’s a bitch out there
Flesh and bone and tooth decay just for today
But this soul is forever
Energy transubstantiates and I ride the bus
This overwhelming, daunting world
This sawdust and red brick world
Find solace in a graffiti’d up bathroom
Fluorescent lighting
Stale piss and cigarette smoke permeate the atmosphere
Silence and empty eyes stare back from behind a cracked mirror
Mass Transit Scribblings
The platform where the people wait. They think about the latest coma baby story in the tabloids or the state of the union address or what's for dinner when they get back to their rented living space and it makes me sad. In between stops there is a subterranean world only visible in glimpses out a speeding window, obscured by reflections. Up the escalator towards officialdom, the hum of fluorescent lights and empty offices, the anonymity of the city. I pass people and their nameless faces. I see a million people and i want to go inside their houses, look in their fridge and see where they sit to watch TV. I want to settle down, I want to have roots, I want to sleep in a bed, I want to wake up next to you.
How can I keep on smiling at society's disguise when I know nothing good ever comes from lies. How can we keep on watching this fucking TV, we're so bored we don't even care what we see. How can the banks of this river meet, sitting on her bed, staring at her feet.
One night after an overdose I walked through through Harvard square with hot acid vomit breath stuck in the back of my throat and guilt in the back of my mind. There was the piss and shit smell of a gas leak in the city that night. Police and fire fighters with their yellow tape and flashlights blocked the closed subway entrance. Shuttle buses moved the red line refugees into the city to deposit us on the corner and i waited on the sidewalk with the human detritus and other hungry ghosts for the next stuffy fluorescent tube lit ride. I slurred my speach the whole ride talking to my disease, fanning my skin under my winter coat, my tunnel vision noticed the salt stains on the griptape floor looked like coral reefs bordering an island seen from overhead. But up here it's always too hot in the winter and too cold in the summer, it makes me sick.
And my nose runs from October to April from the sickness of the northern race and the gingivitis on the city's teeth chew me up. I'm shredded by gears that power the city madness. And car gas mileage stop and go honking horns sing a song for the dying planet. And holidays and after sales, Black Fridays and Fat Tuesdays, ash on your forehead on Wednesdays and your eyes meet with a stranger's on a bus, god and one of us, shares an intimate moment where it stops and says "Hey Richard, have a nice lunch." Listen to the felt-tipped magic marker beat of a stranger's walkman, notes written in plastic ink by a counterfeit pen tell me I live in a house of cards and my life can't always be a magic trick.
Back in the suburb the camera cuts to a lonely bus stop. The darker and clearer cold soaks me to the bone without the shield of excess civilization's warm bodies' 98.6 degrees leeking out warmth, diluting the freeze. I'm left with the heat from under my collar to occasionally pour out steam like a ventilation grate on the sidewalk that a homeless man sleeps on top of. A garbage truck rattles along the street, its brake lights dancing red flashes in the rain water on the pavement. The streets at night wet and run over by passing traffic, the highway cars under the overpass make sounds like windchimes reminding me of the interstate running through my backyard behind the house i grew up in, at night it was the soundtrack to my dreams. Listen and remember being small, awake at night seeing blinking traffic lights that sound like xylophones.
How can I keep on smiling at society's disguise when I know nothing good ever comes from lies. How can we keep on watching this fucking TV, we're so bored we don't even care what we see. How can the banks of this river meet, sitting on her bed, staring at her feet.
One night after an overdose I walked through through Harvard square with hot acid vomit breath stuck in the back of my throat and guilt in the back of my mind. There was the piss and shit smell of a gas leak in the city that night. Police and fire fighters with their yellow tape and flashlights blocked the closed subway entrance. Shuttle buses moved the red line refugees into the city to deposit us on the corner and i waited on the sidewalk with the human detritus and other hungry ghosts for the next stuffy fluorescent tube lit ride. I slurred my speach the whole ride talking to my disease, fanning my skin under my winter coat, my tunnel vision noticed the salt stains on the griptape floor looked like coral reefs bordering an island seen from overhead. But up here it's always too hot in the winter and too cold in the summer, it makes me sick.
And my nose runs from October to April from the sickness of the northern race and the gingivitis on the city's teeth chew me up. I'm shredded by gears that power the city madness. And car gas mileage stop and go honking horns sing a song for the dying planet. And holidays and after sales, Black Fridays and Fat Tuesdays, ash on your forehead on Wednesdays and your eyes meet with a stranger's on a bus, god and one of us, shares an intimate moment where it stops and says "Hey Richard, have a nice lunch." Listen to the felt-tipped magic marker beat of a stranger's walkman, notes written in plastic ink by a counterfeit pen tell me I live in a house of cards and my life can't always be a magic trick.
Back in the suburb the camera cuts to a lonely bus stop. The darker and clearer cold soaks me to the bone without the shield of excess civilization's warm bodies' 98.6 degrees leeking out warmth, diluting the freeze. I'm left with the heat from under my collar to occasionally pour out steam like a ventilation grate on the sidewalk that a homeless man sleeps on top of. A garbage truck rattles along the street, its brake lights dancing red flashes in the rain water on the pavement. The streets at night wet and run over by passing traffic, the highway cars under the overpass make sounds like windchimes reminding me of the interstate running through my backyard behind the house i grew up in, at night it was the soundtrack to my dreams. Listen and remember being small, awake at night seeing blinking traffic lights that sound like xylophones.
Winter Wake Up Call
Wake up. Wake up. It's dark outside and inside and cold in my room. It if weren't for the streetlight outside I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Drink down whatever chemicals and go in whichever direction. Take a piss, smoke a cig, feel like a human being again. Later on maybe eat something, maybe not. In my heart it's always winter, in my sky it's always night. The wallet's always empty and the ash tray is full. A clear night and I can see February stars floating in the dark. I am a house at the edge of the park. A rest stop on the way. I'm a meth lab, I'm a 6 am emergency room visit. I am one ride away from home. A burning barn viewed from a mile down the highway in the middle of the night when you've got no headlights on, the stench of wine on your breath, the gas tank on E and 8 cigarettes left.
Wake up, wake up, I want to see inside your house, here take my coat, show me where you watch TV. What's in your fridge, can I use your shampoo, I wanna sleep in your bed, I wanna wake up next to you. Wake up, yes wait and see, it's me, I am a future, knocking on the door. Life is a dream, then you wake up dead, gun under your pillow, extra clip under your bed.
Wake up, wake up, I want to see inside your house, here take my coat, show me where you watch TV. What's in your fridge, can I use your shampoo, I wanna sleep in your bed, I wanna wake up next to you. Wake up, yes wait and see, it's me, I am a future, knocking on the door. Life is a dream, then you wake up dead, gun under your pillow, extra clip under your bed.
Untitled Existence
I'm all digital
In stereo and HD
OK
as in everything will be
a brief moment of bliss in the grand scheme of things
a soft orange street light viewed from far far away
on a cold silver night when I'm walking away
a tiny landing strip viewed from 30,000 feet
I'm all orbital
my ears pop my nose starts to bleed, memories lost like tears in the rain, you people wouldn't believe the things that I've seen
I'm a flash in the pan
I exist in the blink of an eye,not even nothing in the history of time. Maybe part of a pattern I'm too angry to conceptualize? look up and realize the sky, only ultraviolet rays reflected in the lens of discouraging eyes
My whole life is a soundtrack, I walk to the beat. Vibrations and impulses processed inside a bone full of meat.
I'm all digital
in stereo and hi-def
perhaps the ghost of somebody who's not dead yet
I'm a ski mask, third time in rehab
run up in your house sayin' gimme gimme! somebody called the cops, somebody book me in the first time offenders program, I been there 5 times it's where I met my dope man. This is my job here in back, I wash the forks and spoons, I wrote down "POET" on my W-2
Tell the children the Truth.
In stereo and HD
OK
as in everything will be
a brief moment of bliss in the grand scheme of things
a soft orange street light viewed from far far away
on a cold silver night when I'm walking away
a tiny landing strip viewed from 30,000 feet
I'm all orbital
my ears pop my nose starts to bleed, memories lost like tears in the rain, you people wouldn't believe the things that I've seen
I'm a flash in the pan
I exist in the blink of an eye,not even nothing in the history of time. Maybe part of a pattern I'm too angry to conceptualize? look up and realize the sky, only ultraviolet rays reflected in the lens of discouraging eyes
My whole life is a soundtrack, I walk to the beat. Vibrations and impulses processed inside a bone full of meat.
I'm all digital
in stereo and hi-def
perhaps the ghost of somebody who's not dead yet
I'm a ski mask, third time in rehab
run up in your house sayin' gimme gimme! somebody called the cops, somebody book me in the first time offenders program, I been there 5 times it's where I met my dope man. This is my job here in back, I wash the forks and spoons, I wrote down "POET" on my W-2
Tell the children the Truth.
What Time Is It There?
One in the city
And no one speaks English
People hustling by me but I stand still
People pushing through their day but I move slow
Anyway I got no place to go
This strange city, so foreign and incomprehensible
But they do the same things I do
Hungry world, don’t deceive me now
Disconnected, disembodied civilization
Sometimes I’m ushered through it by intoxication
Or dissociated sarcasm
A feeling that the rules don’t apply to me
Sitting in a taxi and it’s raining outside
Watching the world go by and the smell of my wet clothes
Drenched in faint cigarette smoke
Wondering how people can be so lonely together
Why does it have to be so damn tough?
When the answer is sitting right next to us
It is the great urban mystery
And no one speaks English
People hustling by me but I stand still
People pushing through their day but I move slow
Anyway I got no place to go
This strange city, so foreign and incomprehensible
But they do the same things I do
Hungry world, don’t deceive me now
Disconnected, disembodied civilization
Sometimes I’m ushered through it by intoxication
Or dissociated sarcasm
A feeling that the rules don’t apply to me
Sitting in a taxi and it’s raining outside
Watching the world go by and the smell of my wet clothes
Drenched in faint cigarette smoke
Wondering how people can be so lonely together
Why does it have to be so damn tough?
When the answer is sitting right next to us
It is the great urban mystery
Leave Home Part. 2
Leave Home Pt. 2
Leave Home
Leave this old mill town
Just pack my shit and leave
Walk out the door and never look back
I could go right now.
Box it up, tear it down
Put it someplace else
Then go back out and do the same shit again
I am all over the map in a van.
I am beside myself
Laughing, I bring myself wherever I go
The whole show goes on the road
I introduce myself, I take the stage
An anywhere town, an anywhere place
We come fully equipped
Represent the bizarre with a smirk and grin
Leave home
It is time
The boat is ready to go
So empty out the vessel
Set off at night by myself
Far away from land
This last man on earth
Leave this concrete noise wood and nail vibration
4 AM Greyhound bus station
Feeding, burning, never finding a plateau
And every good dog needs a home
Come out to where I am
You can never go home again
It’s on
Gone with the wind
And I know white men can’t jump
And I hate to trip but I’ve got to land
Neil Armstrong style
But I’m the maniac in black, Charlie Counselman
Leave home
Run outside before I’m burned alive
I’ve got to go right goddamn now
There’s a fire in the hole and I’m freaking out
Blast off down an empty street
Find my way out of this place
Standby for launch sequence
Sneak out of the house in the middle of the night
Kiss it goodbye
On empty streets
Traffic lights blink at no cars
And the silence is deafening
Good lord, it all seems so far away
Like it was just a dream I had one time
Go on now…
Leave home.
Leave Home
Leave this old mill town
Just pack my shit and leave
Walk out the door and never look back
I could go right now.
Box it up, tear it down
Put it someplace else
Then go back out and do the same shit again
I am all over the map in a van.
I am beside myself
Laughing, I bring myself wherever I go
The whole show goes on the road
I introduce myself, I take the stage
An anywhere town, an anywhere place
We come fully equipped
Represent the bizarre with a smirk and grin
Leave home
It is time
The boat is ready to go
So empty out the vessel
Set off at night by myself
Far away from land
This last man on earth
Leave this concrete noise wood and nail vibration
4 AM Greyhound bus station
Feeding, burning, never finding a plateau
And every good dog needs a home
Come out to where I am
You can never go home again
It’s on
Gone with the wind
And I know white men can’t jump
And I hate to trip but I’ve got to land
Neil Armstrong style
But I’m the maniac in black, Charlie Counselman
Leave home
Run outside before I’m burned alive
I’ve got to go right goddamn now
There’s a fire in the hole and I’m freaking out
Blast off down an empty street
Find my way out of this place
Standby for launch sequence
Sneak out of the house in the middle of the night
Kiss it goodbye
On empty streets
Traffic lights blink at no cars
And the silence is deafening
Good lord, it all seems so far away
Like it was just a dream I had one time
Go on now…
Leave home.
A Mid-Winter Poem
When the end is near I am disappointed. We spent it poisoning our bodies. In a moment of fear we dug in our heels. The pills didn’t help.
I wonder what you’re doing, I wonder where you are
We are always under the same stars
They float in the dark
In the cold clear winter nights
They are like pin holes poked in the sky
Giving us a glimpse of a light outside our universe
But everybody sometimes bites the hand that feeds
I wonder what you’re doing, I wonder where you are
We are always under the same stars
They float in the dark
In the cold clear winter nights
They are like pin holes poked in the sky
Giving us a glimpse of a light outside our universe
But everybody sometimes bites the hand that feeds
What Do Friends Mean To You?
What do friends mean to you?
I’m grateful for mine
Between you and me there’s too much crime and too much time
We crashed our cars on the same road
Destiny if what you knew
Got me through the thick and through
The never how the never knew
Chicks and dudes and the different crews
I never hated a single one of you
Not even that girl who stole my cats
Even if nobody loved me when I was down and out
I didn’t swim you this far just to see you drown
If we’re passing the time in the same cell block
I’ll back my word for those about to rock
And we will always win the fight
Turn the party out peace out goodnight
Wonder what you’re doing
I wonder where you are
Girl, what do you think about when you’re alone?
Who lives in your head rent-free?
Does he look like me?
Where does your mind go when it wanders?
Whose house does it go past?
Charlie Bronson laid back and felt bliss for he knew that not everything was fucked, not everybody was mean or crazy, and lots of people were lifelong friends. Sometimes people knew each other for years and years and they dated and broke up and got back together again a few times and then got married and had kids and lived happily ever after. Not everything in this world is fucked. Some people live happily ever after. And he felt a joy inside him that lifted him out of his dirty drainage pipe of a world and brought him up to where the happy people were. Instead of a dandelion growing through a crack in the pavement there were entire gardens of flowers and white picket fences and dogs and children playing in the yards.
He remembered a boy and girl at his high school who dated each other. They were both nice all the time, always smiled, and seemed perfect together. After graduation years passed, and he heard nothing of them until he heard they were still dating and saw pictures of them and they looked just as happy today as back then. He remembered the good in the world. He remembered how much of the world was out there that he could not see.
He smiled and lit a cigarette. He could hear the first birds of dawn chirping, and the sky was getting light on one side. He was going to wake up and hoped that when he did he would still remember them. He knew he was going to be okay.
I’m grateful for mine
Between you and me there’s too much crime and too much time
We crashed our cars on the same road
Destiny if what you knew
Got me through the thick and through
The never how the never knew
Chicks and dudes and the different crews
I never hated a single one of you
Not even that girl who stole my cats
Even if nobody loved me when I was down and out
I didn’t swim you this far just to see you drown
If we’re passing the time in the same cell block
I’ll back my word for those about to rock
And we will always win the fight
Turn the party out peace out goodnight
Wonder what you’re doing
I wonder where you are
Girl, what do you think about when you’re alone?
Who lives in your head rent-free?
Does he look like me?
Where does your mind go when it wanders?
Whose house does it go past?
Charlie Bronson laid back and felt bliss for he knew that not everything was fucked, not everybody was mean or crazy, and lots of people were lifelong friends. Sometimes people knew each other for years and years and they dated and broke up and got back together again a few times and then got married and had kids and lived happily ever after. Not everything in this world is fucked. Some people live happily ever after. And he felt a joy inside him that lifted him out of his dirty drainage pipe of a world and brought him up to where the happy people were. Instead of a dandelion growing through a crack in the pavement there were entire gardens of flowers and white picket fences and dogs and children playing in the yards.
He remembered a boy and girl at his high school who dated each other. They were both nice all the time, always smiled, and seemed perfect together. After graduation years passed, and he heard nothing of them until he heard they were still dating and saw pictures of them and they looked just as happy today as back then. He remembered the good in the world. He remembered how much of the world was out there that he could not see.
He smiled and lit a cigarette. He could hear the first birds of dawn chirping, and the sky was getting light on one side. He was going to wake up and hoped that when he did he would still remember them. He knew he was going to be okay.
Mankind's Duality
Perhaps all humans and living things have one big soul, and everybody’s a part of it. All faces are the same man. In between there is nothing and everything. We together. One existence flowing together like water. Every now and then we can catch a glimpse of it. Sometimes the light is bright and sometimes there seems to be no spark. Sometimes it seems as if we are peering out into darkness. Looking so hard into pitch black that it feels like our eyes will pop out from the strain. We think we see something but wonder if it is only our imagination. Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t.
Sometimes you can see poverty and hurt and see nothing but unanswered pain. But the next man can look at it and see the light smiling through. Sometimes a person can realize the unity of existence and even feel it, but forget so quickly. It is okay, and it was all meant to be. Someday this war will end.
Sometimes you can see poverty and hurt and see nothing but unanswered pain. But the next man can look at it and see the light smiling through. Sometimes a person can realize the unity of existence and even feel it, but forget so quickly. It is okay, and it was all meant to be. Someday this war will end.
The Religion
There is nothing but good in me. I have come to realize some of the great philosophies, but I have not yet done anything to prove it and sometimes I fail to actually do the right thing. Some people would never know it from my behavior. I have not yet left any physical evidence of my achievements. I have no degree, no monetary fortune, and I am not always happy. But I hope that someday someone can read this and realize that I was in touch with the soul and god. Maybe I was born this way, or maybe I became this way. Maybe I just took too much acid back in the day. But I want to use my spiritual journey to help others realize the infinite, and to help them through their hard times in life.
I have no religion, only spiritual beliefs. When I was in India, the Hindus and the Muslims would ask me if I was Christian, and to simplify things I answered yes. When I am in America and people ask me if I am Christian, I tell them no. I do not think Jesus was the only son of God, or the only prophet. In some ways I am a member or every religion. If I had to choose one religion I would choose Hinduism, but I cannot be a Hindu because I was not born into a caste, and I think that reincarnation is merely wishful thinking. I believe in one god, but I am not sure if it is even god, I can only describe it more as “the way.” The holy spirit cannot be summed up in one word, or one deity, or one way of living. There is a soul, and having respect for your soul is the way. But how to show respect for your soul is the contested matter.
All life is suffering.
All suffering comes from the struggle between the physical body and the spiritual soul.
Religion is the struggle of the physical self to gain control over the soul.
Control is a human invention, and is merely a concept of the physical world.
The material world is transient.
The bondage of the self is the misguided attempt at control over the soul.
The soul is trapped in the physical world.
The path to spiritual enlightenment is the freedom from the bondage of the self.
I have no religion, only spiritual beliefs. When I was in India, the Hindus and the Muslims would ask me if I was Christian, and to simplify things I answered yes. When I am in America and people ask me if I am Christian, I tell them no. I do not think Jesus was the only son of God, or the only prophet. In some ways I am a member or every religion. If I had to choose one religion I would choose Hinduism, but I cannot be a Hindu because I was not born into a caste, and I think that reincarnation is merely wishful thinking. I believe in one god, but I am not sure if it is even god, I can only describe it more as “the way.” The holy spirit cannot be summed up in one word, or one deity, or one way of living. There is a soul, and having respect for your soul is the way. But how to show respect for your soul is the contested matter.
All life is suffering.
All suffering comes from the struggle between the physical body and the spiritual soul.
Religion is the struggle of the physical self to gain control over the soul.
Control is a human invention, and is merely a concept of the physical world.
The material world is transient.
The bondage of the self is the misguided attempt at control over the soul.
The soul is trapped in the physical world.
The path to spiritual enlightenment is the freedom from the bondage of the self.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)