Wonderlings of existence, I send these dictums out to you, I hope they are not too flaccid!

I nominate the Rolling Stones 'GET YOUR YA YA'S OUT' as a sacred document.
It's incendiary and evidence that before computers cut its balls off, Rock was a fertile 
and mighty beast.

The Eagle's eye is always on the prize,
Even when his eyes are closed 

To fellow musicians: there is a book I have enjoyed for quite a while called 'ZEN GUITAR'
By Philip Toshio Sudo, published by Simon and Shuster. You'll enjoy its basic reminders
Of the spirit of being a musician of any instrument, and it is full of inspiration.
Find it, it's worth it! 

What we chase we push away
Be like Milke and let the game 
come to you 

we seem to resent most the things which keep us awake 

temptation is our animation 

suppressing the flow of love always leads to pain 

the fear of having less, generates less.

I am moved by the Pope's example, to the very end he is doing the work, 
Following out his commitment. I am moved to see that this is Grace in Action. 

Lovers need to love 
Or they die lonely
And abused
So many lovers 
Are asked for
So few are wanted 
or used 

the vinyards of sour grapes breeds whiners 

one man's angel is another man's beast 

one man's God is another man's crucifixion 

constructive use of anger keeps one sharp and focused
destructive use of anger keeps one frustrated and dissipates
creative energy. 

Keith Richards first solo Cd 'TALK IS CHEAP' is awesome!
I dare you to listen to 'TAKE IT SO HARD' and not be moved by its
Genius and exuberance, and yet not feel cheated out of a late Stones 

Rest in Peace Mr Johnny Cash and thank you for your cool songs and your integrity.
My favourite man in black. 

….Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard are still with us on this side of the hill, and they are also the real deal. 

Odds mean nothing if you trust your luck 

In trying to serve a lesser image,
You leave a greater ghost 

Love breeds consideration
Expectation breeds resentment 

Love humbles but does not humiliate 

One of my favourite records of the last decade is a CD by The Digable Planets 'BLOWOUT COMB'. If you like literate, uplifting, sensual and funky music, this cd 
Will scratch your itch.




Spitting tulips
Trapped in time
Blanket on a picnic dancing
Meanderthals in corporate drab
Are chasing skirts
As they are panting
And shifting the accounts 
Into smaller 
(And smaller)
until your check,
and its perspective 
weigh less than 
an ounce!


separate her from her hair 
and all you'll find are split dreams
she's in two minds about her heart
and the arrows that have ripped its seams
there are pigeons who dream of eagles
yet don't begrudge the crumbs of man
but she is angry with herself
for all the feathers 
out of season 
in her hand


once I sneaked into a parade
peacock bright but uninvited
I carried a sign that served
as shade, it read:
executive columns triangulate 
that an exasperated loser tried it
I may have struggled,
but I shrugged and led 
poised to collect 
my arm was bled
and with loopholes amended 
David was giant in his own deck
though the halls were wet
when his reign had ended
limelight squeezed into the eye
make thought like 
gurgling bubbles dwindle

I threw a dove into the sky 
it came back bruised and swindled 
with Wilsons
who had lost their will
and Mendelssohns
that must be mendeled


Light always has the least distance to travel


the grapes of wrath 
shed their vines
before the leaves
can become valentines
and before surprise has taken root
it drops cracked raisins as its fruit
that blacken the smile like teeth from boot
and steals calico 
from the dresses of carolines
it deducts in taxes what it pays in fines
with wine soaked, 
blood stained loot 
a tailor's chalk mark underlines:
when you cut the cloth 
to fit the crime,
the form 
will follow


Whatever road you travel 
Though suspect, love the traveller
A rope, composed of knotted hope 
Soon pulls up its unraveller


Let fresh paragraphs into your mind 
To scatter your old chickens
And don't forget from time to time
To let Charles handle your Dickens!


if Krishna had no intuition 
beasts would flail beyond their hides
and gravity would lose the scale
that weights the keys
beneath the tides 
so love will never fail
I once heard Tupac in a dream 
Say that Lies are dice 
that singes fresh holes
In paradise 
And scatters all the cream
That clot like cotton,
Soon for sale 
And attacked 
By things unclean 
Bucks are bouncing through the snow!
Their antlers picnic through the flakes
That blanket all but chimney tops
And the breath they fail to take.
Some birds have no ambition
Wave riders some who float the air
Others see flying as a dare
And hug the gravel 
With doubt
I'm the bird who's gone fishin'
For sunken pirates, 
Mermaids, sanity
and trout


I can only fall asleep
Dreaming of lost sheep
Their dark wool hides
The stripes they keep
Their underbelly raw and tender
The milk is strong 
And bittersweet 
But honey to the blender
I once ignored their 
Mournful bleats 
Now I return to sender


your Maitreya