Eventually, we are corrupted.
Whole industries are built on our fear.
I don’t want to be beautiful.
That’s a young person’s dream
and an old person’s nightmare.
I have a sweatshirt
that looks as if I was shot
three times in the gut.
My golf shoes are molting like snakes
with plastic leather
“You need new golf shoes,” My mother said. “They’re despicable.”
I looked at them, and smiled
I was becoming, who I always wanted to be
a mad magician
Suddenly, my footwear
within—it only took
a decade—that’s how long I’ve had my golf shoes.
I’ve seen more sunsets, in them
than in any pair
There is magic in each day, in the twilight
but most people miss it!
It vanishes, as quickly as it appears.
My mother and I
walked into our favorite bookshop.
Short stories, are my obsession
There are more good ideas in there
than all the novels written
in the last 50 years.
I pulled Hawthorne off the shelf
for 99 Cents.
cost 7 dollars.
Everybody reads the man who blew his brains out with a shotgun
because he’s easy.
Hawthorne’s stories are beyond a Rorschach ink-blot test on the wall
There is evil hidden in his vocabulary
if you can decipher it.
There is more classical music in the world
to lift your spirits
than all the alcohol you can drink.
There are more beautiful paintings
to look at
than all the pornography that steals your soul, and drives the internet to ruin.
The devils that run the world
don’t eat fast food.
They dine on Caviar, King Crab, and Filet Mignon
They celebrate the centuries
like the despicable creatures they are.
They don’t eat the shit off the streets
like we do.
They don’t argue
Turn-off your recommended feed.
Stop speaking into your technology.
Play a real Piano.
Ask yourself, “Is this technology, feeding my soul, or stealing it?”
There are less and less beautiful people in the world
and more and more monsters in make-up.
We have to cover-up
because of what
we have done
what we have dined-on
Cannibals, eating each other
A fat person grazes on salad for lunch
The wolf devours himself
in the dark.
comes from the Spirit
than those microwaved meals
that taste like the boxes
they come in.
and pour that cheap crap
into the trash.
Cultivate a Family
Taste Something Real
and You will Feel
We live in Gray Boxes
when we should live under the Blue Sky
We embrace manikins—our false selves
When we should love, flesh and blood.
I want to read under the cherry trees
on my own land
without any evidence
that it’s 2022.
How many years have we lived
without a sign of man’s machines?
I don’t need to drive a smart car
or tell time with a smart phone
Facts, are needless things
if you have the truth.