Our Father, you’re consubstantial,
However we call your name.
Yahweh, or Allah,
We choose to follow
The forces that circle within.
Give us the patience to trust ourselves
And relinquish our egos
As we receive those who punish themselves.
And breeding more toleration,
We decrease the illusion.
For I am thee, and he is she, and you are me,
And we are all together.
-Amen.
We've come a long way since I wrote this in the lobby of a youth hostel in Lubeck, Germany, on Sept 16, 2001.
Thanks, George, for proving me wrong.
I hear a time bomb ticking down
I see a dark and heavy cloud
Stars and stripes speak words of war
Nothing like nothing before
Caught with our defenses down
An enemy that can’t be found
Fire the engines – aim the guns
At anything that walks or runs
Koran thumpers and the Bible belt
Terror like we’ve never felt
If it’s Allah versus Jesus
Then it’s Satan who increases
Heaven help us through this hour
Stop this little show of power
Stop the war while you still can
Save this sorry race called Man
Suffering in the caboose on the bullshit train to emerald city
I should have been a plumber
Instead of trying to use my head
I’ve tried to be creative
Should have studied cars instead
No more time to read these days
Reality shows run back to back
Libraries closed like minds
Education is under attack
Books are out of fashion
Unless they teach of home repair
I should have been a plumber
They make money everywhere
Books are now unwanted
They require us to think
But a plumber’s always needed
Every household has a sink
I should have been a plumber
Charging hundreds every hour
I could feed my family better
If I learned to fix a shower
Instead my time is wasted
Studying Henry, James and Joyce
When I could’ve studied welding
A more productive choice
So now I check my bank account
And wonder in despair
Where I’ll find the money
When our rooftop needs repair
I should have been a plumber
Eating sushi every week
I should have been a plumber
Instead of just a geek
Tomorrow is Grandparents' Day all across America. I may not have time to visit my Grandma this weekend. Perhaps I'll stay home and balance her checkbook instead. It's important to make sure that her balance never exceeds $2000 so that her care facility can continue to bill the state of California about $4000/month for her room (50 square feet with a hospital bed) and board (mostly food that doesn't fit the criteria of her very restricted diet since her 1953 colostomy operation). It's an arrangement that keeps Grandma off the street and maintains a comfortable standard of living for the managing staff of the Care Facility.
Some day we will all escape the tormenting illusion of this physical world, the hapless realm of fear and desire, the wasteland of spiritual bankruptcy and material greed, the either/or area of good vs. bad, right vs. wrong, eternity vs. time, and god vs. man. The day will come when we each returns the paradise of Eden that existes within everyone of us, when we discard the fruit of the tree of knowledge of opposites, and eat instead from the tree of life. When we discover that paradise is not a faraway place but an oasis that lies deep within, only then will we unlock the potential of eternal life and experience the rapture of infinity and divinity in the here and now.
All of which brings me, somewhat anti-climactically, to this week's Limerick:
Avalon
There’s a place somewhere north of Gonzales
With forests expansive and flawless
And people who know
What makes the trees grow
Up there they will offer me solace
May you all reach the island of angels and fairies, of peaches and pomegranates, of sweet nectars and invigorating elixirs, of unity and presence, wherever it may be. Open your hearts, now and forever, and see that your bowl of galactic granola never runs dry.
This one goes out to all the White Trash... welcome to Grover Beach!
The holiday's here not a moment too soon
I look out my window and what do I see?
Two thousand Hummers head straight for the dune
To leak motor oil right into the sea
Monster truck madness invades Grover Beach
They rinse their dune-buggies at evening high tide
With tow-trucks and 6 packs all within reach
Last week a toddler got run down and died
(In memory of the 4-year old child who was run over and killed by an off-road vehicle on the Oceano Dunes last weekend.)
Now here's something in a more cheerful, literary spirit — also for Labor Day:
Limerick #332 – H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937)
Where the land of Cthulu existed
The creatures were horribly twisted
And as mythos grew bigger
Around this cult figure
The labor of Lovecraft persisted
