Too bad about the
Dirtman

After goin' to heaven
and all they said
he couldn't stay

so he said
"bring the wine and I'll
turn it to water"

I knew the
Dirtman

he was a
Biker

he liked to get
High

(turned toward the
silence
inside)

Hard for me to
love the part of
me that loves
her

(Think I've moved
through enough pain
to live in heaven
again)

They say the afterlife
is overrated and all
them saints just
turnto dirt

I know that something happened
she don't understand
(whatever is silent between us
buries the gold hidden in
our
souls)

Broken images
you're too lost

to be with me

(have no need for
identity)

Undreamed ourselves
(visions deconstructed
from lucid astral
calculations)

You realized after
we broke down the
barriers

you were
alone

My friend and I talked
some years ago about
a dream where Kirk Douglas
gave advice

I can't recall if he had
the dream or I did

We wake in visions
replaced by versions
of self

Motorcycles are sacred
(you've forgotten how
beautiful you are)

You have to
Change before
you can change

The reason I love you
is because you love my
poetry

(the small dirt trail
leading to my heart
is so narrow
I fear

Only God can
enter)

God is a poet
of whom I am vaguely
Aware

(We saw her name
in tablets and scrolls)

Glimpsed her veiled face
beyond Mystic Indian
Clouds

(I've tried so
hard to be
Free)

Are you tired
of the time travel

(ending up before the
beginning)

Struggling with ancient
battles forever exorcising
ghosts from your
head

The utopian dreams
of future escaping
to a place of perfection

Worse than your Christian
ancestors

How many times
can we ghost away

(incarnations
& deceptions)

absence

These new poets
are all cliches
they teach at NYU
and other such
places

They have PHD's
their metaphors are
well thought out
(too well)

They don't drink
blood and ravage themselves
the way the true
savages of the heart
Did

No crossing over sacred
boundaries.

They remind me of coffee shop
photo galleries where it's
obvious the student took pictures
of their bored
friends

love my silence
(don't be a victim
of our ecstasy)

All the people are
free

I'm gonna check
Us out

(we could be our
own flow)

After she left his arms
the radio played Suzanna

Another mystic traveler
swimming through the
cosmos

( midnight incense and
candles)

She looks for
ghosts in my
poetry

(rays of sunshine
that slipped past the
devil

Into a broken bottle)

If you want to live
more

don't follow me into
the caves
I've forsaken myself

for a someone I've never known
(shinning light in the back of my
mind)

where all my buddhism
lies

we could have had a spark,
a flower handed down from the
enlightened ones

You didn't know how to reach for
anything but your pain (or the things
you use to mask your pain, of which
you are not aware)

Or of which you can see but cannot
stand to let come
into focus

Trapped behind your
ego carrying

Weight of these
dead dreams

Haunted by the courage
you never had to seize
your wish come true

All the times we died
revived by Phoenician
myths of afterlife

Buddhas who've lived
10 billion lives
(remember when I was your
mother and you were mine)

Cat's eyes watching
through the spider mines
we lied didactic to ourselves
forgotten tribes

Our Roman marriage
declined but the suns it
was cast under
thrived

God is the unseen cosmic force
(Sing about women that are
gone)

In a band we never started
It's alright I'm just a biker

Done hitching rides in
your foreign car

I'll ride something somehow
Descended from the civil war
when your ancestors were
Still dreaming of your
future stars

Dream-Seeker
Listen

(to the silence
Cascading
around your shadow)

Radio Silence
Nights we tried to
Undo the endlessness

Dream-time splendors
She lent me her favors
Those paradise evenings

Radiated between
Crepuscular instances
We strove to hold

Breaking free with
No effort wild
Horses of our Desires
Slipping into paintings
Created Sometime

Choosing this silence
most of the time
I wonder why I'm still
someone

Can't keep these memories a lie
we don't uncover the
Great Spirit Mind

Yes I can ride away
If you want me too
I can burn All
Thes Poems I

Wrote for You

Untiled Remnant Written in GOA by some Hippie in the Late 60's

When you ghost on me
I have to ghost back

100 years or so
of Solitude

Make the statues of the
Statues decay
Until

One remembers the
Original self

(Images of primordial
Freedom)

Stop blaming America
stop blaming the guns
stop blaming gender
and wars and skin color

and your boss and inequality
look at your own violence

Stop blaming terrorists
and governments and
relationships and authorities
and jobs
and capitalism

Look at your own greed

Stop blaming your parents and
your history and your teachers
and OTHERS
STOP BLAMING OTHERS

and take responsiblity for your own lies
your own truth

STOP
and be still

The world will come into alingnment in your
stillness

Our dreams crash
down so easily

Polluted my mind
with these dreams

Fears alive chasing
hiding for
centuries

(got lost somewhere
retreated up into my
mind)

Do I need to find my way
into the cave
or out of the
cave

So I heard you went
outlaw that one time
back in the day

People said he didn't give a shit
road too fast
didn't like commitment
(all lies)

They didn't know he dreamed
of Proustian masterpieces
or the conversations we had
on the trains back from Brooklyn

Cool
Vortext (of my)
Nowness

Seems
locked inside a paradigm
she doesn't know
exists

I feel better in leather
Ink all weathered in
Dreams tattooed into
Skin.

(she burned like oil
Smoked into
Bones of
Machine)

You don't have to,
you don't have to
Sleep inside the structures
(dream inside the machine)

Explode into now with
Such ferocity
(all nows become your
Now)

for so long in
eternal bliss

fire cleanse of nighttime
lifetimes lost in
darkness of a sky filled with
time travel

The light years between us
vanish when we are
both in the sacred space
of our
own hearts

There are different
kinds of wealth

you could be sharing all
your love

Motor Cycle
(symbol/freedom)

Painful machine
closer to god

cannot seprate
soul from oil

Hot metal disintegrates fear
I'm sorry I love you so much
know it's wrong to be
so free for so long

all our ashes

Free my soul
of everything that's
held me back

Live the ultra life
freer than freedom

Road
whores for knowledge
empty clean
dirty

sense somethin in my bones
about you crazy night owl

through the drunken Christmans carols
and fiery Sag' tales
(somewhere down in the desert

you were meant to be free for
me)

Let go of what we
are so wrapped around

(beautiful machines obscure
materialistic lust to own each other)

Spiritual possesions weigh heavy like
our offspring and ancestors

We are free beyond thought
touch
sensations

Throw away your
gods

Maybe someday you'll
see an eagle, or
hear an old rock n' roll
song on the radio

or through your window,
hear a lone engine rip by
(and remember me)

Almost to the grail
Freedom looks like darkness
(things will never be perfect all
the time
until you live your
ultra life)

So, I found out that God watches over all
Outlaws

All you have to do is:
Always carry a gun
Read the bible sometimes
(RIDE LIKE A LORD)

How many dreams
did we burn out in
the sand

Mountain rocks can't
scrub away what we had
(can't count the rubber worn
through)

Burnin' oil coast to coast
but it's the same old pavement
(one step ahead of the
ghosts)

Places I've
(dreamed of are )
gone (before I)
Get there

Even now
what (to do)
without her
leaving all over
(the place)
cloud-way
urgency fucks
with my radio frequency

(of all the vibes) she ran
towards me
they shot my damn
lookout again before he even
climbed the tree

(it's all right though)
silver-lined dreams
scraped together enough cash
to get me by

we don't get high
no more

Stretch out eons in any direction
and all is lost

But we are not far away

The earth
Is such a good
Place

(All those things
we think about life
(That aren't real))

No one knows where
my mysticism is

(find the nothingness
elusive center of
power)

fleeing from
understanding

Outlaw baby
barkin' up the wrong
tree tryin' ta
change me

Go back to your
hipster fairies and
euro-fantasies

Wanna-be bikers

hide behind your
psuedo-charities
neo-asana paper
thin glow

All the outlaws know
all the outlaws know

Outlaw Mind
Strange Places
(wandering

Home one day)
twin pistons slamming
chrome walled chambers

Matted out dreams
club style snortin' pipes
chuggin' into road
hero

haven

Backwards from transition
standing in light
full Goddess consumption

Blinded with afterthought
totally removed from darkness
shipped out to visions we'd
always believed in

But dared not capture
some raging wildness
we cannot forget

God is inner self
she was shining in the
distance of greatness
we'd lost

(remember the perfect day
we walked down the lane
eating tiger lilies (goddess))

Starlit memories of
volcanic fire and literary
visions these archetypes
are failing the mythic apparatus

strung together for centuries
from crumbling tablets

The things you've pulled through, and
didn't die from

Control vs freedom

Moments are almost connected

Cool mother-night

Descends into

Hypnagogic

Shambala

after falling away so long
only to realize
time is a trap we created
to avoid the unchanging

Principle of cosmic law
which brings us to ourselves
pinned against a mountain
which is only another sky of our
perceived limitations

(allegory of eagles and other
such metaphors
similes like flowers

grow out of the forest of her
vivid dreams where I am a tree
and the stream of all
knowledge flowing
unbridled she releases
the damn built by myself
to harness my endless
power)

With forever behind us
into the mystery riding
Wisps of phantom
Nights we
Tried

To know
Who we are

decided not to be cool
anymore

too much work
too expensive
too many let-downs

(just ride my Harley
into the sun-set
no phone
no goal
no target
no destination
no gain
no pain

Old soul warrior
Old soul Princess

Yes

missed by the old times
coffee dream
angel breath

Rundown motel-like
rusted crashpad on
the floor tempting
fate to burn us
down

ran through primeval
mountainforest
chasing our fear/desire
down indian

trails

We already drove
those roads
home

Dream forest wanderer
we meet in clandestine
foggy images
during

Rapid Eye Movement
Radio soul transference

Whatever the popular theories are
on reincarnation and galactic
expansion

Dragged down by the
time-syndrome
lagged out with the
linear-machine

Invented to relate
to spinning heavenly-bodies
projecting through
un-quantifiable spaces

(she was tattooed and;
-used a jockey shift
-ace shot with a 45
-deadly/warm/alive
-unpredictable
-saint-like)

You didn't need to paint
wings on her
or sanctify anything
with a license

She could read the marks
on her
own soul

Goddess Prophecies

So I never told anyone
but back in India during
the enlightenment days

(while meditating in some plush
marble room,
There were visions of building choppers
deep in my soul, after the
ego dissolved)

Now shacked up somewhere in Montana
good ole Western USA
working for HD

these strange visions are coming through
(Just waiting for prophecies given to me
by certain Goddesses)

Joan Irene Charisse

She was lion hearted and
sword bearing
(raising up flowers to the
sky,
Painting wild orchids)

Nourishing the poet/artist
in me
Embracing the recklessness
and rage.

I soothed her pain with healing hands
When she looked at me she always
saw eagles wings,
and nothing else

Renee's Way

Many Doors will open
for you
Walk through the door of
The Lord.
(The mystical is the most
practical*)

*Nisargadatta

The Day I heard that Prince Died

I was like,
OH SHIT,
Didn't I just see the
number 7 written in the sky

(didn't I just dream of my
cassette tape looping over
and over again on 1999)

Lost in the Purple Rain
How can I say goodbye
to a friend so close to my heart
I've never met

So I guess you wrote your own signature
of your soul
and they can all sing it now
(all the great ones)

Dear one
sweet one
you never spoke to us

Only in the music
God floating in your purple
mist

Makes me want to find a lover

Journey of the mystic
is one of aloneness

stretching forth into
omnipotent nothingness

Where are stars to guide
where has ecstasy gone
shredded down a black
highway

Do you know the old you
are you someone new now

Transitioned from another time
I keep referring back to the 70's

waiting to be saved
just like being from krypton
could release our meta human
programmed deep inside us
until the ancient metamorphisis
we ran from our own freedom
believing the thoughts that killed us
ratted out of the matrix
Trapped in old programming
once the fire started

Gentle friendship saving
me once again
she treads flower Goddess
into my evening

Cures from
ancient times
Healing wounds I did not
know of

King-time waiting
biding inside resistance
for the perfect explosion

Releasing all walls
only rivering away
into a new Eden

I am the fire one
(cooled on the surface
even though you are still afraid
of the volatility you
glimpse)

If I were only a
motorcycle built of metal
plastic
speed

built to burn oxygen and
explode fuel

If I was only waiting in some
snowy garage
with infinite patience
with the potential to
go so much faster than
Jesus

Waiting patiently as love
patiently as angels
patiently as
God

You think I'm anything more
than a P-O-E-T

because I play along with your
game

I am one for the long road
waiting for the sunset I choose

What kind of emptiness
did you know me as

(nights in the black pyramids
angels sweeping up flower garlands,
we crushed so many petals
beneath our feet dancing)

If there is a Buddha
left to reach into
me

Forget the emptiness you
thought to seek

(let's go play records in
the attic back in the 70's because
the weed we smoked made it so
the v8 cars we drove
could crash through
anything

Choose the darkness
of deep adventure into
the nothingness all you
Christians are afraid of

I have no boundaries
much like the cosmos
God doesn't even know
us yet

A raven and a dove

my demon and my angel 

such a binary simplicity 

to the mythological apparatus 

of my dichotomy 

Punch through
the tiger paper wall
of things that would not
burn

(send these dreams into the
sky of places in my soul I can
no longer hide)

Stuff underneath the surface of
who I really am the fact
that we would have bled and
died to be united for just one instant

instead surviving for an infinite festering
of un-alive sadness
to prove we weren't afraid to run
away from the only
fucking thing that
really mattered

She wonders when
and why they
all
died inside

(eyelids poking through the
ethers to see smokescreens burning
digital flash singeing off
facial hair and
screaming scar tissue
is muted through the cacophony
of information
fabricated to
sell you something
new you also
can't...(answer yourself
anymore so just ignore the flames
and keep on searching infinite
waves of trivial
barbwire madness)

Soul fighter boxes
shadows
long enough to lift
a veil of smoke and
ashes it all

Seems so real but none
of metal shininess
can be transmuted to make
us feel a god
damn
thing

Step back to the time
we never faded
like some old Polaroid
behind  plastic film
a cheap photo album
she's carried around for years

All the moves
around the world
shaggy gurus smoking
one cheap cigarette
after another

(bastards) all of them
when you see what they've
done to you
(nothing but your own shadows
eating away your
brain)

The world is an apology
for our sorrow

We never forgive the shadows
even though we cast them

Yes I'm a fighter from way
back

Carry the old school on my
old back

Tatted up ragged n' Hungry

Two wheels rollin'
trying to fight my way back
to the 70's

Lost
lost
found

if you missed the answer with
me sometimes

because of the moon or
other distractions

Like the times we came out of the forest
to experience thunderstorms in
open meadows

(it's not because we were
high on acid)

It's because I loved you
and you loved
the rain

Bring back
to life everything
you've ever loved

aspects of self
converge
from: the 1970's
the future
and now

Child
man
old man

One and the same

Stone sacrifice        
smoke of the patriarchs
alone on the highway

                                 
remnants of the phoenix sparks
hit by the truck of us
she never was the same

ask her about the Indian Trails
(she won't even say my name)

sadness of leaving
the nomadic highway
stone ancestors
cave-shaman invoking
blood painted warriors

smoke to the spirits

seeker of silence
and the open road

solitary highway
(reckoning)

darkness prayers
(one on one with
god)

Momentary Christmas
(memories flood.
Default desires,
programmed)

Intricately woven
longings describe
an inculcation of
stereotypes, tv commercials
and other conditionings

Peers, locale
Time period
fashion

whatever else was
en vogue then

She is a product of
these things and her
musings

fighting to break through the
glass cage crystallized around
her

after they took
my love away

with the technicolor birds
and the pressed words on a
glossy page

and the Dj's prayers
after the television waves

Locked inside the institution for
twelve long years
the years of my youth and dreams
and vigor

(after the marijuana trances and
the LSD dances and the malt liquor
advances)

after we crashed all the free cars
big tanks of steel
broke curfew and all the suburban
taboos

The loud pipes broke open all their rules
hobo freedom and bad girl
blues

stranded on the American Highway
I found the Jewel of Montreal
emerald goddesses
gave me shelter

again and again

Father Noah,
Laboring with your
sons and fathers
for perhaps 100 years
to build the great ship,
almost a city unto itself

Watching the stars and waiting
reading the great conjunction
mighty Noah of 500 years
600 years great father

(let me walk in spirit
as you did,
be a friend to my sons and all
their creations,

Great shepherd of all the earthly Kingdom
rider of the devastation)

900 years and more
mighty Noah

How the world must have
changed around you

The faith of Abram,
wandering
(Moses lost)

Nomadic spirit warriors
hearing truth
conflicted
doubted

(Noah, in his 500th year
laboring to build the ark)

Mighty forefathers grant me
strength

Perhaps I am not so
far away

My beloved is
the existence I have
avoided

Cosmic oneness open
your doorway to me
and let me enter

I am the other you
Deeper into
the mysteries

Free yourself of
All power

no more time to
run away
everyone knows there
was never anywhere
we came from anyway

Mountain stoned under
the skyway again
we burned everybody's house
down but our own

(I always stole my gasoline
stole my gasoline
stole my everything)

Like a teen crush she floats
heaven-ward
V8 dreams and 4barrel visions
gunnin' it
gunnin' it

Beyond all these
machines

(perfect silence)

primeval forest
wildness

She's cool,
but not as cool
as my aloneness

(Remember the ghost
Of inner silence
that spoke of
Poetry as
The answer to
evertything)

We are new Sons of devastation
writers of the apocalypse

Riders of dawn machines
(make that metal warm and
soft, have your way with
darkness)

Shed that skin
writhe in the freedom of
Sun/Son

Savior take me to a hot
paradise of ocean shores and
Mother Mary

I've been alone with my
desire for too long
Shoot a thousand rounds into the
sky

so some people talk
about shamans and such

Think because they did drugs on
vacation they have some knowledge

and the pop-tantra which is simply
lust disguised as love
superficial version of merely one of
108 meditations

(too afraid to step over the
edge of the
edge)

I thought the shape-shifters
were phonies

and the breatharians
vegetarians,
sectarians and
other cults

(so yeah,
I turn into a crow sometimes,
but when I'm an eagle I fly so
high that know-one can see me
or my eyes)

That one time I was a puma for
a brief moment...

Another time when I rode home in
full gear in 102 degrees and I was
just swimming in the thick tangible
connection we had

(oceans away)

you thought this was a space-time issue
and that the money would help you escape

still we are

after the time game
(and if anyone knew
what happened they
would agree)

but I like it
that even we don't
speak of it

(something about the
mountain lion
and the great mother
spider creator of
the infinite web)

some people believe
in past lives
and pyramid magic

(sometimes I just ride)

LANIAKEA

Beloved

Out of the immeasurable heavens

(trajectory of light 

from a billion galaxies)

Out of the iron 

from supernovas

beating in our hearts

We never needed any 

science to prove to us 

we are one

(we knew from the way our 

molecules danced for 

each other)

What kind of mythology are
we making

each time we re-tell the
stories

Each word changing reality
it's not the same since you
started reading this

infused with some rebellious
potion

wild soul can't be
bargained for

He just rode away one day
right when everyone was convinced
he was "ok"

He'd burned down the house
she lived in years ago

filled with promises of the
holy ghost

Way of Gosho

Some say he wanted to pull
low because he knew he could
survive

(out there in the forest hidden for
years writing that unholy
scripture, carving it into
trees)

Rambling Stumblebum High on Somethin' Rant from Tomkins Square Park

We hailed you through
the dirt times
with your war wounds
and glory rhymes

(you were the only one
that survived the 300mph
crash into the earth)

You burned down the ambulance
that they sent for you
blew up all your collateral and
tore up the loans too

I know you owe money to the
money to the government sharks
and the suits you punched
and the gas you drank
with the gold in the bank
and the ships you sank

And the jobs you shanked
(and that rusty shiv up your
sleeve for the bastards and the
bitches that don't believe)

They called you Gosho
and the No-show
shit's all got to go
worlds gonna blow
no-no-no

That's not how the SONS flow

Reach inside to
the cosmic emptiness

Take fear by the hand
embrace him on your
journey

Bring the light, let her
hold the hand of fear
dance in the trinity of
desire, wisdom, knowledge

Let the trifold manifest
your holiness
you are already whole
already blessed by the
Buddhas

The entire cosmos has been
longing for you to the lift the vale


Excerpt from Way of Gosho: There are no Walls

Inside the JAGGED lines
(small details of our
lives)

The way she loved
coffee on my
breath

cliche of her
faded jeans

(supernatural body of
us)

just lyrics of your
soul i heard playing

reflections in puddles
and other NY metaphors
and motorcycles and
machines of dreams

(we smashed them for fun
then it got serious
when we wiped away the blood)

but speed freed of radio
meme knocked me out into the
slipstream

and then the time themes of
infinity and such and such
broke us open and
wild horses stopped to
listen