THE GREAT MYSTERIES OF LIFE

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

As we stand on the cusp of the new year, I'm in a reflective mood...so here's an encore presentation that I know many of you have not seen before that addresses what I'm feeling...and am always feeling to some extent. HAVE A HAPPY!

I'm cruising down to the convenience store to pick up some beers

with the words of my spiritual master ringing in my ears:

You must give up your worldly attachments if you want to advance.

Pulling into the lot I spot a raven-haired goddess

riding in with some biker who looks like

one of the lout-infested Vikings in that credit card commercial.

While he is distracted inside,

I whisper in her ear: "What's HE got that I ain't got?"

And she says..."He's got...a big...HARLEY!"

So I hop back into my car,

resigned to worshipping her from afar--

but my master is adamant on this point:

You musn't worship something that could give you an STD.

And I'm supposed to give up sex--

or at least not enjoy it, if I want to be enlightened.

And I must atone for a life of living fast and loose,

in order to extract my neck from this karmic noose.

And I must be engaged with the great mysteries of life,

as I ponder why the weather girls on the Spanish channel

are always hotter than all the others...

and I am picking up a Christian radio station

on my television: POSITIVE, ENCOURAGING, K-LOVE!

It drowns out the regular programming on my PBS channel.

And I'm certain that it's some kind of sign from the cosmos--

but why pick on a nice Buddhist boy like me?

Heading home, I see Kerouac on the corner,

trying to wangle a ride--

he's been standing there since 1955.

But hard times have fallen on vagabond scribes,

as "Do You Know the Way to San Jose?"

gave way to One Night In Paris.

But he's picking up some extra jack

writing the direction labels on shampoo bottles

in his stream-of-consciousness style...

Once upon a time in a Ford Galaxy

far, far away--I whispered empty words

of love to Suzie, and Lucy, and Betty Jean--

until...VOILA! Fourteen years of coming

home every night and saying: WHAT'S FOR DINNER?

Thinking this is it--the happiness that had eluded me--

as the prime of my life slowly...slipped...away.

As did she.

And I can see my mother and me

standing on the platform

as the train roars down upon us--

she is running away...again.

And it is said that boys grow up

and seek out their mothers--

and so it was

that I chose one

who would RUN.

And I tell my master it's easier

to give up your worldly attachments

when there's little left to lose.

And there's something about being done

with the greater part of it that turns you young.

And you find yourself saying WHATEVER

and you come to understand that it means

accepting things the way they are--

and you think maybe these kids are on to something

as they shrug and turn back to their internet porn.

And yet, here I stand, crying

WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT, ALFIE?

But Alfie's too busy scoring

to offer any kind of reply,

though he seems to be saying heaven can wait.

So I just want to know...

can there be any compromise

for one who is other worldly, yet worldly wise?

ATTACHMENTS

Friday Poetry Fest

Poetry Picnic

d'Verse Poetry Pub

Not the kind that come

with your sewing machine

or your vacuum cleaner

but the ones that keep us coming

back to this dubious place

for another merry chase...

love

hate

money

sex

power

food

fame

shame

the love of the game

gambling

rambling

murder

(like a cattle herder)

booze

dope

greed

people

iPads

(EGADS!)

words

perversion

any old diversion

Hypnotized like sleepwalkers

we follow our nose

see how it goes

take off our clothes

any way the wind blows

gleefully ignoring the spectre of karma

So simple

the way Wernher Von Braun put it

For every action

there is an equal but opposite

reaction

Don't need to be a rocket scientist

to get that one

You don't learn to share

what the hell do you care

but you think you're immune

let's go to the ball

and pretend that midnight's pumpkin

isn't waiting down the hall

the unmitigated balls

to think you'll get away with it scot free

now you're hanging from a tree

If the definition of insanity

is doing the same shit repeatedly

while expecting a different outcome

(I'm as guilty of that as any

not like the few

just like the many)

then we are all crazy

to be coming back here and thinking

THIS time

it will be a cakewalk

You know

Fonzie

duality guarantees

that there will always be

heartache

along with happy daze

the more we cling and grasp

the more our grasp is exceeded

Taken away

taken away

To the land of Nevermore

So quick

find a replacement

a sub

a stand-in

a hero coming off the bench

to save the day

isn't that the way

it's always going to go

until finally

at long last

(have you no shame)

we get tired of this game?