Tree Bark
To take time
to touch
the texture
of a tree
remains a salve
to me,
when I walk
outside of
virtual reality.
Ace of Hearts
My selfish life spins, around karma,
made of words and deeds, even thoughts,
a twisted net of cat's cradle string,
that makes me not take wing.
But all my bad karma unravels
as the good word transpires
and all my gui1t expires.
The good word touching me
removes my bad karma
and sets my soul on site,
free with him;
my good karma is
an addendum to the void.
Al1 is karma.
All is grace.
The good Lord's karma
is my key and ace.
To The Cave Dwellers: Weather Report
weather warnings
wind rain storm
a new tornado
starts to whirl along;
they said, "I can get
all the news I want
on the weather report",
but I find even that
unreliable.
If you want
to find out
whether it's rain drenching
go outdoors
outside your cave,
and marvel
at the earth
and all she gave.
No Incense Please Here
He is the same to all,
to all existent beings,
this Destroyer,
in Greek Apollyon,
in Hebrew Abaddon,
in Hindi Shiva.
Many worship him.
But is it equitable
that some are victims
all their lives
of lower or ghetto caste,
and who chooses
where the suffering
will pass?
To Einstein
end of the years
of falling apple's
dreams of Newton.
Fug Newton!
Modesty
her skirt
was the venue
of my eyes
in eight grade.
I am lost
Spearmint
This reminds me of her.
That reminds me of you.
Everything means
something
to the nitwit mind
a screw loose.
In simple English -
not everything means
something;
this poem
doesn't mean
anything,
except that
the wad of chewing gum
is spit out
willy-nilly.
Flubadu 3
God knows
I'm as subversive
as spaghetti
with meatballs
and marinara sauce.
Questioned on it,
I was at a loss.
"Reform thyself!"
is all they say
But I and you
must all
find the way.
"If everything has meaning,
nothing in particular
will stand out."
It's all a gloss,
The Weekend
what is magic
that it should flitter
between us
like a fragrant cloud
of incense
in this enchanted night.
Is there such a thing
as magic,
or is it a misnomer.
I think magic
began with the Magi,
not Homer!
but perhaps it's the bouquet
of your aroma.