The Mountain

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i guess most of us dream of the mountain

that perfect mountain we can go to

to get away from the madness of life

the society

the job  the traffic  the roads

the cars

the noise,

and all that anxiety

and most of us do not have ourselves

for some their is a need to get that

their center, their soul

and all that which is not me

can all fall away


She Called Me Sensitive

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After we did our thing, in the bedroom

I am usually rough, nasty and freaky

But after…

I can be lil sensitive, a nice guy

and she looks at me, reading my soul

“back to Mr. Sensitive.”

it caught me by surprise

What can I say to that?

Deny it?


it’s the truth

and I knew she liked her dudes tough

and street, or they pretended to be that way

and i was none of that, but was proud

to  be able to read her as she was able to

read me

Don’t Take Me Serious

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I write a lot of depressing shit

and that is not always me, I do laugh

I do change, just don’t take the depressing

stuff so serious, I’m not that way all the time

I’m not here to preach the gospel of sadness and depression

even when I feel that way

I look over some of the shit I write

I’m like what? I wrote that depressing shit?

I mean, it musta been on my mind at the time,

my emotions, my soul

im not here to preach depression,

but if you happened to relate to some

of the stuff that I write,

then I did my job, and I wish you and my poems

could have been a lot happier, than they were

that is all

She built…

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a prison for herself

she seems free, she has her chores,

her duties, but she built a prison

for herself, she can’t see it

it’s there in her home,

she constantly cleans, sweeps,

mops the floor cleans the toilet,

she has jailed herself, and she

is free to watch her television

she knows every sound of the house

of every inch, the walls fall upon her

she built a prison for herself

and often, she hates that

perhaps I’m being unfair, which i shouldn’t

we build prison for ourselves,

i have probably built one for myself

Only i can not see it from my point of view




Brain like Peebles

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The many thoughts on them

How many things can you Google?

the myriad of things that you can and will forget?

I feel as if there’s more energy in my brain than others

I could be wrong:  it all goes towards me…careers,  money,

education, meditation, yoga, Osho, massage, women, the strangeness,

of energy, the bar, what will i do after work? what about this weekend?

all the people i have as friends on my Facebook page, hypnosis, what

do I really what do with my life?, changing the routine, potential mates,

artificial intelligence, how would you find meaning, moving the body, digestion

it all rains on the mind at once.  You become addicted to your thoughts

one after another, this moment



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I follow more than they follow me

I’m not bothered by it, I try to drop this ego

which is a difficult thing to do, its easy to think

that world is Maya, because of the clever

injustice of the whole thing, games and

forever seeking out purity, and authenticity

but that is rarely in sight

I would rather follow others, other people

can be so interesting, if you let them of course

more interesting than yourself,

if you could drop your fucking EGO

The Weather

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too hot and too cold

that is the weather

as someone freezes to death on a bus stop

and you don’t think about it

it’s just a passing headline

don’t think about it too long

just forget it

don’t be like me and dwell on it

wonder about him. and wonder about yourself

putting yourself in that position

its no good

and the weather is always to hot or cold for

me, hope it’s not for you.

The Roads

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I am so boring

and am easily bored

why isn’t the daily routine not enough for me?

why do I desire to think think and think?

I travel familiar roads, afraid I will lose something

along the way

I’m afraid to throw things away because I fear

I will need them one day

it’s hard to tell what is important and what is not for me

what is important?

I do not know at all

my life

your life

our life

are we all ONE and shit

I do not know



I didn’t know

I was doing it

But I was going away

To drink, going away to drink

The beers were a religious experience for me

They allowed me to get away from the world and to feel better about myself.

I meditated a bout the world around me

It didn’t make sense to, my twenty year old self

Still confusing

Though the world reveals itself more, the older you become

I’ve read so many books. Still meditating.

Problem with most fiction is that the characters in most books are so ordinary and dull

No wonder so few people read books

The only person you have is your self said Osho

And I’ve lived this for years

drinking in a parked car alone, let images and

ideas float by my head, and walking amongst

crowds and groups of people feeling separate

and just letting them be, sitting in front of typewriter

or computer thinking and meditating always alone

doing this thing, this meditation,

not doing what most do,  LIVING


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Shit man,

some of my friends can just crank it out

whether it’s writing, poetry or music, it

keeps coming out

all they can think about

don’t get me wrong, a strong work ethic is good

for some, but sometimes

there is just other things to do

life gets in the way, and I can

always be at the computer

cranking the words out

there has to be a break from the

words, to make room for the silence

which moves in like a river