listening to Ne-Ne by Soulive. Well now I am blogging. I have decided for this entry not to use my traditional line breaks. So technically i think that means I am writing prose. This is exciting for me. My heart is sad, finitely. My mind is like the moon. I am sweating in my office. But i just turned off the lights and lit the Jesus Candle. and now my writing can take off leaving the catepillar in the dust now a butterfly, i am in love with the sizzle cymbal, you just touch it and the whole universe shimmers, it's a miracle. Truly it's a miracle, the dynamics you play with mirror your life exactly, your feelings, your ritual, your own trance, you can get inside your instrument, shamanic shape shifting you can become which is why i want hand made instruments of beauty, crafted with awareness and love and made straight from the earth. God outside, go outside and watch a tree and that is how to drum that is your ground zero, the sensual tremor of the void flickering like sunlight on the ocean, that is the ground zero of music, the shivering silence made of light, and then when you foray into forte the F zone where the violence of ecstasy happens you remember it because you are sitting in the shade of a tree and then the tree gets hit by lightning you feel it, you feel the f more when you are relaxed, you feel sex more when you're relaxed and breathing into your crotch, well music is breathing into your crotch publicly being like a tree naturally giving and gentle and unafraid of lightning, welcoming the storm of feelings welcoming the violence of God and Creation welcoming the rising waters, and drumset is it's own universe and the guitar with all of its primordial darkness is its own universe, and the bass with its Lochness invisibility is its own universe, and the voice, what a miracle God has created with the voice, the silken thread like a phone line right into the heart the dark tunnel of the throat like a birth into the light, into the tides of incarnation to sail to its own annihilation in an echo against the wall to give back to vibrate the the fundamental matrix itself sending its translucent waves like angels into the void, that black swimming pool of the new moon, god bless that ground zero deeper than the effortless gifts of the trees, this is something to sing and rejoice about, we are surrounded by light, surrounded by love, and our deepest, highest, most profound desires, are cherished and cultivated by the Great Spirit and all the animals and all the plants and trees and all the elements are perpetually working for the construction of a temple within the black heart that we all share, eternal surely, surely not, surely, surely not, yin yang, night day, upstroke downstroke, get up for the downstroke. Listening to Ne-Ne for the third time. feeling the divine grace of bass, the smash ash bone blossom of the snare drum, feeling the rose-nectared tongue of the saxophone, feeling the sinews extending from roaring river of the guitar, Jesus what a miracle that everyone stands in their dark corner offering notes and gaps between notes and concocting and entity that lives and breaths, it's like puppetry in the abstract, pointing to the hands, pointing to the mouth, pointing to the lips, and then walking down the street, dancing on the benches because the ecstasy cannot be contained, this is the gift of music, the transformation of the environment from draught to monsoon, from heat to cold, restoring the balance in the battle of opposites, a harmony, coexistence really is the vision of music, all races, all times, all religions, in their highest glorified potential, music is the model for an exalted society, and that is why I have devoted and will continue to devote my life to this absolute miracle, in awe of the power of nature and its ruthless sublime law I in deed believe we are all blessed with music, SING!

Improvisation

a man walks by in a brown plaid shirt
he is more real now
that the visions of last night
a clear monolith full of coffee beans
an aerial spin of a frog
a swollen clitoris
even more real than Bruce Willis
in Live Free or Die Hard
when he launches off a spinning out of control
F35 fighter jet like it were a skateboard
and shoots a bullet through his own rotator cuff
to kill the main bad guy strangling him from behind.
There is a certain passion
and madness being programmed into the collective
now a woman with a green shirt walks by
and a woman with a pink shirt walks by
a white car drives by
a brown car drives by
the piano on the satellite radio
even in the 1 sqaure foot of tile
that my right foot is resting on
is enough detail to occupy a life
trying to harness the moment
rides the line of terror and ecstasy
as all great improvisations do
but steering your improvisations
to resonate with something much deeper
than your own needs
shooting yourself in the rotator cuff
letting your improvisations out of your own control
and into the control of a greater force
where forests are burned and planted
at the same time
an apocalypse of genitals
where the golden thread is glimpsed
like an animal or a river of lava
striking some kind of mutualism
or parasitism with God
where you affix your barnacle diorama
to the will power of the whale
and then your barnacle has temple status
that is what Coltrane does
his breath like water
in the whale
that is the terror
breathing underwater
living in spite of death
making music
even if it means nothing
seeing the world
exactly as it is
without the desire to change it
the matrix
the white room
where you can ask for a library full of guns
and then you are surrounded
by darkness.

WET GOD

blogging in the dark
there is new self consciousness now
because i am going to hit post eventually
i have not arrived at the end of my post
so there is a distance that i must travel
and it is surely finite
and that takes away from the infinite mode of composition
where you get lost for hours in a few moments
there is some internal shift that takes place
when one has shed the weight of expectation
and there is a lift off
like a plane off the runway
into a field where everything is a metaphor
for everything else
and at that point one wonders if there is any point
to continue
it's a euphoria of the moment
and it's liberation
aren't we all just flutes
for Krishna
we are all just flutes
and that makes me think
that we are some kind of forest
collectively vibrating
full of holes and music
with no shade
just a masterful amount of sunshine
and rising sea levels
you see the shift that i was talking about
i was alone in my hole in the wall office
and i started off talking about blogging
and all of sudden I am in a forest of flutes
what is the transubstantiation
from the immediate environment
into the cosmic playground of the soul
word alchemy
world alchemy
some kind of powerful shift
from the physical laws
to the dream laws
where the creator
lives in innocence
and flying is the common modality of transportation
having said that I bought a Honda tonight
and there's definitely something to be said for that
which brings me to the interweaving
of autobiography
and the spell of the written word
like what Beckett wrote,
"Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining."
It was raining today in Los Angeles.
It was cold and it felt really good.
I'm very happy right now.
I had a veggie burrito tonight.
I believe in what doesn't move.
I believe in the power of movement.
Dance is the paradox of the mystery
like the birth of a mountain
snowstorm
now i'm off listening to jazz
anything is massively important
anything at all leads directly to God
or as Timothy would say Wet God
i like that
everything leads directly to Wet God
i love you
delivery
developmental
distinguish
sometimes the joy of the word
alone outweighs and purpose of the meaning.
the sheer snapneck power of the organ
i love it
i love jazz
i am grateful for this life of music
Dog Bless
Bless You
feel it everyday
breath into your crotch
as if all of humanity were at stake
numbers
wow
endless miracles
like semi automatic bubble guns!!!

Sugar Ray Leonard v. Wilfred Benitez

in the Hyatt Regency
watching the SRL Benitez fight
on Starz. My dad is reading Shogun
in the bed next to me
watching the dancing orbs of the gloves
four red balls
something cosmological
fire planet
the planet of work
the planet of trial and the welterweight of gravity
pulling your skin off your bones
even as I am brainwashed
at the NEVER WORK AGAIN seminar
by T. Harv Eker
time is running out
1:20 min left in round 13
and the dance still goes on without me
and I am the voyeur of violence
of black silken sweat
hooks into the body
red leather shining like mirrors
the whole crowd is high on the anticipation of release
the orgasm
the apocalypse
the flight of the mouthpiece
in a meteor shower of spit
against the black
round 14 starts
live from Caesars Palace
in Las Vegas, Nevada
and now I am participating
in real time ekphrasis
1:20 left in the 14
the red white and blue
ring ropes
like a Mondrian without Yellow
this boxing is a very intimate thing
sometimes the fighters look
like lovers
as they gasp in the exhaustion
hugging and bleeding
like lovers
sweating and breathing heavy
like lovers
weak in the knees and spinning
like lovers
round 15 starts
Benitez with a gaping wound on his third eye
and the crowd is yelling
Benitez with a series of lefts
gloves flying magnetic
last round adrenaline
in a chaos
legs buckle for Benitez
bleeding like a sadhu
from the third eye
Sugar Ray Leonard WINS
as the ref stops the fight with nine seconds left
at the end of the 15th
and the audience breathes
and divides its collective mood
and now Benitez and Leonard
are hugging and emotional
and i feel empty inside
sitting cross legged
reflected in a huge circular mirror
next to the TV
and the same way Malibu burns
i am burning
i am burning
towards freedom
the city of Los Angeles
seething in smoke
and the minds of billions
like billions of televisions
in the altars
of the dark church
of the body

ARNOLD PALMER

I have a confession.
at the Redwood Bar and Grill where I work
I make myself Arnold Palmers
in the server room.
I just learned what this drink is.
It's a mixture of 1/2 ice T and 1/2 lemonade.
It's named after the golfing legend Arnold Palmer.
I've been bussing and waiting tables for about six months now
and I know the kind of people that order Arnold Palmers.
They are usually very corporate
always wearing a collared shirt
and even the drink name itself
speaks of the status of the person educated enough
to know who and what Arnold Palmer is.
It certainly is an elite drink.
Even though there is a dark undercurrent to an Arnold Palmer.
The ingredients are perhaps a metaphor.
Below is the bitter caffeinated reservoir, the shadow side sometimes overpowering.
On top is the citrus mind set, the solar radiance of success and happiness in the world.
But the catch is that the person who orders the Arnold Palmer
is going for the badge of success and power and confidence
often neglecting the shadow side
its going water skiing in the ocean
in the blood of shark victims
there is a certain menace and imprisonment
to the Arnold Palmer
the suburbian repression of chaos and annihilation
a fickle projection of a love for life and yet
there remains an undiscovered and unfounded fear of death
which is the reason for the caffeine
murder for money painted with a smile
if you know what I mean
it's almost as if what they really want is Lemonade
or a laxative
fresh squeezed pure sunlight
the smell of fresh laundry
maybe even the raspberry jelly of an erotic sandwich
and yet the self sabotaging mechanism
cannot allow unfiltered happiness
you know the apple in the garden of eden
the apple is lemonade
and the violent bite is ICE-T
and now we are headed toward the tiny ontological crux
where awareness becomes aware of itself
and thus creates duality
the perpetually changing non change
and the perpetually non-changing field of change
together in an inseparable unified field.
So really the impulse to order an Arnold Palmer
if it is free from spiritual egotism
is a noble one
the impulse to submerge completely
into the mystery
not to analyze and destroy
but to bring to fruition
at the level of the visceral experience
a taste of reality in its totality
not just a superficial happiness picnic
and not just a nihilistic blanket of infinite inertia
but a true integration
of the dark side and the light side
into a complete Vesuvian being
the Holy Eye
circumscribed by the lip of a water glass
a halo
a planet
a beverage.

The sun is perpetually rising people.
go outside in your underwear!
life is the miracle
the swelling inside like the yellow organ fountain
what a beautiful impulse to love
to love outwardly and inwardly
and completely and to devour the marrow
of life to suck on the pain like the bone of heaven
what a sweet miracle this relentless music
the sweeping silence of the ocean
the aching beauty of water
of people in their transcendental ambulation
through the cities of the world
the cities of the mind
what a magic power we have to perceive
tragedy as comedy
to see comedy as divine
to hear the drums crack in your chest
like a breaking heart
a broken heart
opening to include more than capacity
to whole electric ocean of music
that unbuttoned chasm of gratitude
sweeping through the islands
sweet sweet music
the pussy cat warrior growl of the organ
like the fucking orgasm of god
FUCK divine fuck church of fucking bliss
sweet sweet sweet sweet fuck
like the mouth of the deer
touching the stream
can you proclaim that the universe is not
truly miraculous of a beauty
so stunning the mind shatters
into a broken windshield of stars
what a fucking mess
what death and destruction
and blood and symphonies of dramas
integrating unwinding
what a conductor
leaving the heart trembling
like the pregnant silence
right before the organ
blows wind up your spine
all the windows down
the dark highway
river of sweet blood of christ
black and blue and gold
pumping through the tender
infrastructure
like a bassline
carrying the whole thing
a blue whale
a blooming star gazer lily
this effortless orchestration
this handless applause
God you deserve a standing ovation
and look at the trees
they are all applauding the sun
they are applauding the wind
they are applauding the mother
they are applauding
for the opportunity to breath
for the opportunity to awake
to stand
just to sit is the greatest gift
sitting
like a mountain
covered in flowers and snow
for nightskiing
the violins pull the trip wires of the heart
the drums rip the marrow
the guitars
ohhhh the guitars are levitating
above the yellow street
ohh the guitars
the guitars
the ride cymbal
truly the ocean
the golden ocean reflecting
the golden sun
what a deep celebration
in every moment
i radiate outwards
and inwards
one love
immaculate chiropractic
fantastic life charging
worship to all beings
you are all sacred
and part of my permanent
internal temple
and with all humility
i let go.

BUILDING TEMPLES

yesterday i had a thousand poems in me
the hose bleeding in the grass
like some kind of noah's arc reinactment
but right now i sit in the dark
unshaven and raw like a thousand year old tree
growing outwards silently
i have forgotten all the revelations of yesterday
all the tears and paradoxes
that parting of the sea of biography
for a moment of primal truth
and yet even as I stab into the light
trying the make butter
i have the impending notion
that all paths lead to the exact same nucleus
everything converges on one thought
like the north star
shockingly grounded in a circling universe
there is a dark depth
we can and must tether to
the sadhus who worship Shiva in India
when they are initiated into their sect of worship
they are pronounced dead
and they cover their bodies in ash
this death is the true foundation
for the divine architecture of a life worth living
established in death
in the medicine of death
smeared in the permanence of impermanence
life and death are the reverse of the atomic bomb
a split atom exploding back together inwards
into a tiny silence that is God
today as I was walking home from work
i saw myself in a window on the street
and i smiled and the smile that I saw
is the smile that is in everyone
the mischief and vitality in my eyes
is the electric thread that strings together
the skulls of unavoidable mortality
around the neck of a being
free from erosion
and in the same way water
will ALWAYS find horizontal
even if it takes the life of the universe
and it does so with zero effort
the hearts of all
the minds of all
the souls of all
one collective heart
one collective mind
one collective soul
inseparable
in that same way
the collective consciousness
will always be rooted
in the source
which birthed it
empty of all things
so empty
that the radiance of fullness
shines like
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golden retrievers
a light so bright and so empty
and so completely full
that music is the only government
a harmony so fantastic
the angels have goosebumps
the plants speak a common tongue
and the humans and animals
live and work side by side
building temples in the wind.