nothing concluded 64

eyes come to a focus

on nothing

in particular

meditation some might

call a day dream

sounds all around

blend into one

ever present sound

and it accompanies on

the journey

all outward

senses numb for the moment

unending and flying

freely inside the self

finding happiness

until it stains the arm

unknown discovered

daily dose of the unraveling

of the mind

this mind—OM

everyone can close

eyes and travel inward

how many will sit still

and listen to the sound

the mind makes silent

soaring and as unpredictable

as the shapes the moving clouds

make as they march across

the summer sky

the ominous sky

opening eyes

fixing the gaze back

to the spot

pick up the pen and

nothing concluded…

weaver

mr. jimmy today is today

yesterday we called it tomorrow

although it is always today

it is much easier to say

than it is to understand

a bit envious of your real world fantasy

dream becoming reality          

right before your eyes

itchy and irritated when we see

what has become of a dream we all share

common link in the weaver wheel gone mad

not going repeat what I have not said

your choice is one I am glad you have made

standing to one side

you arrive with your caravan of foot

soldiers armed to the teeth

let it grow he says as you trim it down

it’s yours to do what you like

with an arm full of sticks you start a fire

who will keep the vigil

watch over the green hills and bare plains

trying to weave my way into your thoughts

ideas as light bulbs flashing

like head lights in a car signaling

that they will let him go

what about cheese teeth

maybe you could bury it in sand 

good to know some things

what good would it be to know everything

just too much to handle

mouth turns upward when napoleon’s great   

grand-daughter embraces his empty heart      

can you see him weaver? 

weaver? mr. jimmy

don’t ignore your faithful servant

serpent biting at ankle bones  

found some years back

grin and bare it all

your feet climb the mountain

turn and watch this bird fly. . .

speak softly spoken softer still sitting silent

clouds again cover that which I do not know

enough feeling in two

sustain a break in the action

not another phantom

appearance disappearance from our eyes

never in a heart so empty

one whose esoteric and at that

not even caring that much of what we

do is the same on different planes

moving on a journey

mark the thirteenth hour past

oblivion where we will take watchtower

where the jester sits and recites

the notes taken down

from above a sky so gray with doubt

that the usual suspects will continue

on the two legged onslaught

that only two hearts can feel   

no medical attention can revive the dead

and not enough money to buy back

the beat of silvio’s blackened heart

your sadness is for no reason

the friendships obtained in your absence

did not create a void

instead brought loose ends closer

cut off frayed damages involve not you or I or           

her love for you is so real

friends found secrets hidden from past lives

are parallel paths merging moments

time tossed out windows opened

fresh air is cleansing stagnant

air and only the two of us are left with

no face to face confrontation communication

not a problem

arising only when they are allowed

to surface like weeds surrounding the most

beautiful flowers an abundance of positive energy

around the moon and stars shooting

beyond the most thought out circumstances

can only grow when they change

not changing hands

standing in one spot for too long causes muscles to cramp

tighten and pain arrives as a beast

from the jungle of thought

I knew it all once

then I was alone

lost myself and destroyed my will to live in

happiness never saw my eyes were closed to

things so close yet miles away off

a point in

no direction can lead any of the pieces

to the spot...

we are one in the same

journey with different eyes

dotted and crossed T’s and

bridges gaps bringing everyone closer

to true understanding

though we know not what cause the heart sadness

I pray and hope for hope

to return and give me some

will never see what I have to offer

you a hand a heart and

mine is an empty bowl that can

not be filled

overflowing with compassion

and we both hear the german shepherd

who follows the flock to a spot

attention is given to one

who knows he has no importance

nothing can be conclusive in a world

where reality is irrational and

the equation can be explained and

taught to know things can be too analytical

for my overly creative mind

find a bind to be cut from attachment

to tell you before the end that

there is none even when we are

gone down to the river and see that we are    

the river that splits many times and changes

daily still is always that river

reflecting faces and traces the silhouette

of two who know what it is all about

though explanations make little or no sense

dents bending only to avoid   

breaking ties with those who we hold down  

to this and that is all I know I don’t know

what may become

closer and bring nothing

open eyes open mind open heart

and you may not understand

still only long enough

to hear I am with om mani padme hum

and nothing more to say

not important or special or knowing or smart or dumb or

funny or powerful or enlightened or great or anything...

nothing and I hope you see me lotus position

mudra of peace

grounded in understanding

fear I have none no hate no spite no jealousy

only compassionate words and actions speak

softly spoken softer still sitting silent...

nothing concluded 63

cloudless day arrives

no invitation necessary

heat tonight cooled

the gentle rain

works some magic

problems rise

and seems to solve themselves

just as fast

overloaded but grateful

appreciation in abundance

words come as comfort

everyone and the guru

included far from the side

at the moment reaching

far for the embrace

learning from him

then and now

compassion and the way through

the crazy days

summer or not

a thought and

nothing else

a dream and one

eye won’t let go

nothing concluded…

no void

only a few more days pass and you will fill the void

that you created when you had to get up

and go to do what you needed to return so

she will not be lost in the world where importance    

is only seen in those who are objects of

desire and though some are much more, it

takes a great mind to find a complete person

feel her pain and your being away has

helped her grow without you

know herself and her importance to others

alone she can find herself and she has filled the void

where she looked for when you had to

leaves change with seasons as new ideas are allowed            

to flow more freely with the river she has      

found in your absence for a short time it

takes a lot to know a complete person and though     

attachment is so hard to know and feel and    

release the mutual attachment

you feel to and with her it is not merely physical

instead return and focus on the feelings and emotions

that you feel for and with each other...

nothing concluded 62

shapes on the ground

below standing

watch as events unfold

like blankets

on a warm winter night

relatively pleasant

finding the spot

on the opposite

of that warm

winter night

need to change

everything

and not wait

nine more years

before making the switch

new day

and the sun is shining

still chilled

something off

not quite sure

never not

finding the time

to stop & sit

& think

& breathe

an adjustment

made to any situation

even when

impossible to move

the thought

up from above

rain down on the head

standing one

with the confusion

and sudden rush of blood

chilled mist

of summer they might say

candle light the way

through the fog

they might call it a cloud…

split the thick and find

new ideas rise like sun after

darkness clears a path

from one end to the other

nothing concluded…

covered with clouds

covered with clouds
no longer allowed
narrow road plowed
hidden in the crowd
and can't find my face
just want to be
sometimes not me
the one that I see
set my mind free
and no time to erase
the words on the wall
sputter and stallone man and I am small
if I trip I can crawl
far from this place
don't know where I will go
not much to show
whatever I know
the river will flow
I will find my own space...

read the headlines

handful of something nice

shirt holding pants together

or apart

of me says nothing

at this time

I will not lose the race

to the top off my coffee

is not hot enough

of this

way to the river

is you and me as well

is deeper than an eye can see

what is going on and off

like a strobe light dancing

a left or right turn

into a vacant lot

of them here now I can explain

the situation is not a thing to be

or not to be special today—

yeah give me that and I won’t argue

until 2:15 am time to sleep

your tired eyes before

E=mc squared the circles

I can’t draw a straight line

up in order of importance

what is it and why does the sound

a voice or thought of a face makes

us physically ill

so I won’t work today

will be yesterday tomorrow

does that make sense enough

to know I will not stand up

straight and be proud

to be nothing

can explain itself

without sounding the alarm

wake me after the smoke clears

tables like bus boys chasing girls

down the hall

way has to end sooner or later

and then where will you go

to the end of an addicts recovery

discovery of a place

I have never seen so many frowning faces

in the same directions

lead me but I do not follow

the leader will not carry

his or her own weight

one more hour

time has come here

what I have read the headlines

speak for themselves. . .

nothing concluded 61

riding around the

straightened (former)

corners never really knowing

what he is hoping

to find

then the spot

and the blank pages

the ones that his mind

becomes

now spotted

pour him another

cup for some more

thought

as they might as

well pour onto the table

darkness arrives

somehow it’s

also the time when

(t)his light shines

it’s brightest

casting shadows

on all that has passed

memories of people

and places he’s been

where to go from this point

and then

don’t know when

stop him when

back again

nothing concluded…

another day

turn the page and check me into the local nut

house you don’t think me crazy

going cross-eyed with so many people and I never

did like lobster even before the sun burns its name

on band aids don’t know the score and          

though you’re far away can’t imagine how

hot the weather is where you are

creativity has left me like the horse

that left me at that old saloon in El Paso

didn’t mean to start such an

uproar the bartender treated me like a mirage

I showed him the time shift theory

just a theory and the world is doomed to destruction

why would time shift why would we go

back in time

and December seventh

not an important date

never thought Joe was insane

now I know he is simply reciting

one misquote after another misquote

bible passages it makes me angry that

young people are listening to him

call him brilliant

why can’t people see through his babble

think for themselves and listen to words

he (Joe) is warping the already warped

view of life and death-

the view he has that makes me laugh

we have no choices in our life—

believing in anything shuts the mind off

from thinking further on this certain thing      

that one chooses to believe and that mind is

no longer functioning and is clinically dead-

I need to leave this spot

cannot deal with the last part of his speech

about the devil and evil, I don’t need it today...

why?

think you are

can’t catch me

think you know what they need

you don’t know what they want

talk smooth operator

can’t handle words

put a plastic bag over your head

spin like a break dancer

crowd thinks you’re on top

of the world

haven’t responded to the mail

the post card

the door is closed

will not be open until further notice

the sun god comes down from the sky

not falling from the top of a mountain

climb to the summit and receive the ten,

nine, eight, seven, six times

running outside inside

to side and reverse the situation

and don’t ask me why…

nothing concluded 60

about as productive

as an abandoned building

burn it down

cross the bridge

into another

pool of consciousness

stop and sit silent

night is warm

and the sky is clear

the slate

and start right now

open a mental vein or two

in order to cease the pain

of every day stress

about as interesting

a dentist appointment

trying to straighten

the thoughts

turning corners that don’t exist—

nothing concluded. . .

nothing concluded 59

don’t like

causing problems

but hate

the feeling

in no way important

too much pressure

comes with being

important

all the unnecessary

expectations

don’t mind being

needed every

once and awhile

don’t want to be

more than that

some people

become the

pirate’s parrot

when they should

get to know

the pirate

before repeating

everything he has said

while he is trying

to speak

everyone here

is important

seems as though

another might get

bored if standing

too long listening

to the same thing

out two mouths

instead of one

stuck in the middle

confused because

everything that is important

today is subject to

being gone tomorrow—

nothing concluded. . .

dizzy

supermarket science

experimental patient

wait long enough

enough for me to sustain

the carpet store saw a little dog barking

at a sliver of the moon

beaming down the road a bit

ditch the loot and make out like we never knew

the map we just drew it

sleeper that one might

where is this headed

ask with a scratch in my voice

sense some hostility

the bird on my shoulder

cry if you like

when we all show up or throw up

wish some would just grow up

implode at this moment

eyes are watering the tree is dying

what will make the redness go away

back at another time

shave the panther and gouge out the eyes

with blonde brows beaded with sweat

as the heat rising with the sun

moon switching places and faces making me dizzy. . .

ballad of your ballad

Part I.

do you see him from where you sit? 

can you see through the smile he wears like a mask?             

this man with not much to show 

plenty of determination to pull him through any         

situation he is faced with

very good description you made days ago and he never

knew the talent you possessed with the pen as your

weapon and being present at waterloo

he knows weapons though he may serve the captain

better than the other two soldiers

he only does so because he puts up no front 

pretends to be nothing earning no merit nor

recognition, the captain has retired

seems to rest comfortably with him

the other two soldiers pose no threat seeing as

how war time has long since passed

in his eyes anyway

though if forced into battle he will      

again rise to the top and defeat all foes

though he cares for the captain

his first concern himself 

in the past he has always thought of his own well being

only after securing the ground for all those

he fought with and for

he standing quite close to captain Ele

knows he need not worry

he sees no battle in sight whatsoever  

and if it comes down to any sort of battle

he is sure that both will

stand strong together or apart (if by chance)

they get separated...

Part II.

under light of a moon dancing in and out of the         

clouds bringing a light mist weighing heavy  

on the mind and heart finding a home once

again feeling as though he matters 

to himself again

finding joy in a smile on a face so

mystifying and wonderful

of new beginnings today blending into night

falls and he catches and will not drop

of rain runs down his neck as a tear

on a cheek next to his

mind is void of all confusion

passes like clouds

will soon open up and the yellow

face of the sun can be seen day after day

time has diminished all negative energy

enough to make it through the dark times

had come by no more

or less time for worry about nothing

ever makes complete the circle

we’ll never be the same as him

trying so hard to stay the same life after life

but this my friends is an impossibility.

Part III.

ask me and I will admit I do not know who or what  

I was in my last life, but I have been here      

before, this I know... and before you finish

reading, many will die and many more born again,    

making that transcending journey, one that we will

some day escape, the one called

‘samsara’— the cycle of birth and rebirth in death...  

in conclusion I wish you well on your           

journey and I will see you soon...

whether tomorrow or the next life I cannot say,

I do not know which will come first...

nothing concluded 58

viewed as a long

journey we are all on

dancing to different

tunes at different

times

the cloudy days

the gray ones

they arrive even the most

successful see

the gray days

sunshine cracks

the dawn on days

when it seems

nothing can

go right

on the way around

we create as we go

taking each step

in order to make it

to the next day

though death

may seem to be

an abrupt end

a life not

completely lived

only the beginning

of what we cannot

know our understanding

is not ready to know

what’s on the other side

don’t want this vehicle

to be disposed

of in an underground

parking lot

no one needs

to visit that spot

reach deep within

to find that spot

to visit those gone—

nothing concluded. . .