The Declining Dayze of the Emotion Cops
(Clouds Disappearing into the Sky)
The 500th holocaust report of this year
Prooving once and again they
Exceeded Christ in suffering as a chosen people,
Just got broadcast and some tears did flow.
I remembered gypsies, gays, Russian peasants and Africans,
As I usually do,
And a litany of knee jerk rebuttals,
And then I stalemate and shrug, and carry on
Wondering what truth this holocaust missive displaced
And whether I might have needed that information.
I am a guest on this corporate world
Cause I question the emotion cops and cannot believe them.
But as I grow older and keep eating MacDonalds,
My contrary nature mellows into corporate usefulness,
Inevitably becoming a gift to my former foes.
Nonetheless, my mortality stains that gift
And circumstances of “Right Living” can creep in
And prevail scattering the spooks into the light
Opening fresh pathways to the faithful,
So that the meek can inherit the earth.
I mean, getting biblical as a Buddhist can have some benefits.
My teacher, in a dream, said I should write about this,
But where in hell does Buddha fit into the Abrahamic vision.
No where as far I can tell.
It seems there is not enough emotion to go around
Yet Buddha says emotion is just human exhaust, smog,
Only worth clearing up,
Using meditative silence as the key.
So where the hell does a Buddhist get off writing to Christians and Jews,
Forget Muslims, they are totally out of it.
Well the spooks (emotion cops) back up the system,
Maybe they can hear the Dharma storyline.
Faith and emotion, pen to paper;
I will try to write and rattle this cosmic saber,
Not to fight, but to come to terms with the emotion cops
And help them out of a tight situation
For want of more concentrated cynicism and cultural focus
The emotion cops are our god for the scattering of truths
And their domain is extant, commercials.
Commercials should tell the truth but they dont.
Statisticians should tally energy consumption producing all corporate products,
But they wont,
It is not good for business.
So computers are used to rationalize resource destruction.
The emotion cops are saved a demeaning chore
Of actually feeling the pain of wealth extraction
And that is their loss and has become our plight.
Industrial applications continue to approach the speed of light
While humanity’s dysfunctional dialogue with the natural elements
Lays awkwardly prone in the wake,
Not privy to Progress’s incestuous drone,
The chanting heart beats of rational synchronicity
Fuel emotions and drive demagogues to conquer.
The emotion cops would die if they woke up from their dream,
But they don’t wake up.
They surf the endless deadlines that eddy humanity,
Bliss full, indulgent, in their cathedral of incubated hopes and fears,
Visualizing a receding horizon as their goal,
Old age and death the dreaded foe.
As debris piles and the transport corridors get crowded and smaller,
Emotion cops hack at their own bloodlines
With a knee jerk cruelty that exponentially increases as claustrophobia sets in.
Guess what?
If cell phones don’t do it then the old standby of nuclear radiation
Will have to do.
Some how their magic just ain’t the same.
Especially when docile elements bark back.
The well leavened electronic dough must not bake.
Expectations feed so much better than the truth.
Emotion cops keep the truth to themselves.
If only they knew what to do with it.
Emotion cops are our inheritance as a species.
If we kill our selves by letting go of our destiny
Even though we pretend to be captured by their tricks,
We were never chained by their devices
And there will be no blame to cast or savor.
We on this planet are becoming real noisy,
An agonized sea of echoes staked in outer space
We are radiating a hellish dimension
An irreversible pain amplifier
Rendered by our manifold works.
We are becoming cosmic victims caught in our own ignorance
As our planet hurtles on in infinite time.
The winds of karma will swallow our cacophony
Leaving nary a ripple of remembrance.
The emotion cops don’t go here.
It is not their domain.
Buddha goes here, lives here and finds heaven here.
So does God, I have heard.
Rockets in space can’t dent the sky.
Laser satellites burning up villages in Palestine
Makes emotion cops drool with lust.
But that’s like looking back on Sodom while
Knocking on heaven’s door.
The further they will fall
And the deeper and darker will be their trajectory.
Emotion cops will wake up.
That is my prayer.
They should put aside the electronic hand bag
And set us on course for peaceful purposes.
It will take a lot of work but some of us will make it.
Let’s set the emotion cops straight.
By staying in the moment,
Their leeches and ticks will fall away.
We can get off the grid and talk to the sky.
It’s the biggest mirror we’ve got.
Emotion cops are earth bound
So kissing the sky sets you free,
To find a peaceful light filled trajectory
And to travel on beyond the birth rite to
celestial happiness.
Universal good times.
Resolution to perplexing mortality,
And our sanctuary to contemplate the Infinite.
Amen.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
Poetic sweepings from a business trip to NYC
Up too early this morning wondering what was my modus operandi.
The gates of hell have been awakened by America’s hubris, childlike fascination with power and indulgence.
How to write for this conundrum?
I get on the web and I am sucked between Kali’s legs, into a lotus pond and I am unable to articulate human dharma.
I become a passive receptacle of Eros and I am bottom feeding.
I have to keep the big picture with the same intensity as our culture lurches to lose sight of it.
Om Mani Padme Hung
New York has a promise for me.
I can feel it in the commotion.
Maybe it is time to move there and do my master’s program under the tutelage of the D.L.
After all, I haven’t burned him out as far as I can tell.
Perhaps I should write him and ask him to intercede with Shenphen Dawa Rinpoche.
I could do my retreat at O.C.D. and reclaim my acre of land.
Take the pressure off the Yarlung dynasty.
OM AH HUNG VAJRA GURU PEMA TOD TRENG TSAL VAJRA SAMAYA DZA SIDDHI PALA HUNG AH
Stoned perspectives seem real but often end up bleak,
Especially when they are adroit.
Intoxication makes it a dream.
Maybe the dreams are not so bad in the big picture, but in the day to day they don’t pay the rent.
It’s time to get it together.
Be a man and surrender to the law of karma.
What goes around comes around.
Sleep begets sleep.
Time to wake up.
HRIDHIHRIDHIHRIDHI
Lilli Lotus has her finger on the family nervous system.
She is our barometer of interface.
Yesterday was crazy.
She combed into the matrix.
Appearing, disappearing.
She moves fast.
I must respect the Goddess.
This will be Dad’s chore/honor; and in the discipline we will heal and become family and live in delightful Peace.
GURU HARINISA SIDDHI HUNG
Today I will check out the client’s list and send responses.
Books and authors, authors and books, eggs and chickens.
I need to write my book even though so many do.
It is an old worn promise that begs my muse.
A great writer is her or his own muse.
No need to wait.
Just do it.
HUNG PHAT
Also, I have got to register the X-90.
A car, looks like half a car and makes people stare.
All across the nation, I know, I just drove it to Taos from NYC.
But what about the freaking horse.
I swore I would be riding one by now. I paid good money.
No more gasoline, voting for war by spending dollars.
Ugh. To ride or not to ride?
This is not a question. There is no choice.
They want us to use oil cause they don’t want the traditional paradigm of control to be available.
Horses were and still must be the production manager of the colonial invasion which is an unresolved paradigm.
George and gang for a hundred years have hoodwinked us into industrial yoga fueled by dinosaur bones.
Horses reflect the ‘now’ and where the earth is really at.
Etheric zombies, we rarely get around to the truth of our quest.
From one fill up to the next, we stumble around the planet crushing indigenous culture, opening doors to demons and then feeding them our fuel.
This is not a long term plan.
Looking back at the roots of our landlord consciousness and how we got to be standing so firm on the land we possess,
Our partner in crime was the horse who awed the aboriginals and who always brought us to water.
George and gang are freaked by horses because they don’t want to share the American Dream.
With their palsied ambitions they can’t rule us from the mount of a horse.
So they banish horses and the trick us into using oil.
This must stop.
The planet can’t take the heat.
The cool demeanor of the horse will cool the planet.
The horse will teach us to walk again and to find the healing path.
It should be a felony to call heroin, ‘horse’.
Everybody! Own a horse and give the land back to the people.
OM AH HUNG
My dried and cured sage sticks didn’t sell so well in NYC this time,
Probably due to the run in with Alissandra.
She wiped her nose on the smoke and challenged the building that holds her captive.
Nothing much gave way but Tibetan lamas did show to see what’s up.
It was all good but didn’t help sales.
Next time I will bring the fresh moist sage.
Works better and is less violent.
The perfume suffuses in mystery and clears out the demonic.
So does Alissandra….
I have not seen a dakini dance like hers since I woke up at the hippie truck stop in
Oregon.
That lady is a volcano of bliss …and when she’s not looking in a mirror
She is singing reality songs.
OM TAM SOHA
Sweet Lady of the Light
SunMoonStar
Why must we remain so far.
There are tempting dish’s everywhere.
I am in this for the long haul.
SARWA SIDDHI HUNG
Is it T.T. or is it me? (Tarthang Tulku)
That is the question.
I must make an effort, I must at least call.
The number is right here in the temple with its own nicho.
I seek the light and he was first to sooth my charred nervous system.
Coincidence or not, do I need to touch base?
It’s like going up to George Bush Jr. and asking for a favor.
Which is more exciting and which is more dangerous?
Libra question.
It is like charting a course into rough waters with flimsy yoga.
‘but just could be the thing that tweaks a right circumstance for world peace and spreading Holy Dharma.
OM AH HUNG VAJRA GURU PADMA SIDDHI HUNG
Guru yoga with Caesar and Christ.
How Biblical.
OM MANI PADMA HUNG
The gates of hell have been awakened by America’s hubris, childlike fascination with power and indulgence.
How to write for this conundrum?
I get on the web and I am sucked between Kali’s legs, into a lotus pond and I am unable to articulate human dharma.
I become a passive receptacle of Eros and I am bottom feeding.
I have to keep the big picture with the same intensity as our culture lurches to lose sight of it.
Om Mani Padme Hung
New York has a promise for me.
I can feel it in the commotion.
Maybe it is time to move there and do my master’s program under the tutelage of the D.L.
After all, I haven’t burned him out as far as I can tell.
Perhaps I should write him and ask him to intercede with Shenphen Dawa Rinpoche.
I could do my retreat at O.C.D. and reclaim my acre of land.
Take the pressure off the Yarlung dynasty.
OM AH HUNG VAJRA GURU PEMA TOD TRENG TSAL VAJRA SAMAYA DZA SIDDHI PALA HUNG AH
Stoned perspectives seem real but often end up bleak,
Especially when they are adroit.
Intoxication makes it a dream.
Maybe the dreams are not so bad in the big picture, but in the day to day they don’t pay the rent.
It’s time to get it together.
Be a man and surrender to the law of karma.
What goes around comes around.
Sleep begets sleep.
Time to wake up.
HRIDHIHRIDHIHRIDHI
Lilli Lotus has her finger on the family nervous system.
She is our barometer of interface.
Yesterday was crazy.
She combed into the matrix.
Appearing, disappearing.
She moves fast.
I must respect the Goddess.
This will be Dad’s chore/honor; and in the discipline we will heal and become family and live in delightful Peace.
GURU HARINISA SIDDHI HUNG
Today I will check out the client’s list and send responses.
Books and authors, authors and books, eggs and chickens.
I need to write my book even though so many do.
It is an old worn promise that begs my muse.
A great writer is her or his own muse.
No need to wait.
Just do it.
HUNG PHAT
Also, I have got to register the X-90.
A car, looks like half a car and makes people stare.
All across the nation, I know, I just drove it to Taos from NYC.
But what about the freaking horse.
I swore I would be riding one by now. I paid good money.
No more gasoline, voting for war by spending dollars.
Ugh. To ride or not to ride?
This is not a question. There is no choice.
They want us to use oil cause they don’t want the traditional paradigm of control to be available.
Horses were and still must be the production manager of the colonial invasion which is an unresolved paradigm.
George and gang for a hundred years have hoodwinked us into industrial yoga fueled by dinosaur bones.
Horses reflect the ‘now’ and where the earth is really at.
Etheric zombies, we rarely get around to the truth of our quest.
From one fill up to the next, we stumble around the planet crushing indigenous culture, opening doors to demons and then feeding them our fuel.
This is not a long term plan.
Looking back at the roots of our landlord consciousness and how we got to be standing so firm on the land we possess,
Our partner in crime was the horse who awed the aboriginals and who always brought us to water.
George and gang are freaked by horses because they don’t want to share the American Dream.
With their palsied ambitions they can’t rule us from the mount of a horse.
So they banish horses and the trick us into using oil.
This must stop.
The planet can’t take the heat.
The cool demeanor of the horse will cool the planet.
The horse will teach us to walk again and to find the healing path.
It should be a felony to call heroin, ‘horse’.
Everybody! Own a horse and give the land back to the people.
OM AH HUNG
My dried and cured sage sticks didn’t sell so well in NYC this time,
Probably due to the run in with Alissandra.
She wiped her nose on the smoke and challenged the building that holds her captive.
Nothing much gave way but Tibetan lamas did show to see what’s up.
It was all good but didn’t help sales.
Next time I will bring the fresh moist sage.
Works better and is less violent.
The perfume suffuses in mystery and clears out the demonic.
So does Alissandra….
I have not seen a dakini dance like hers since I woke up at the hippie truck stop in
Oregon.
That lady is a volcano of bliss …and when she’s not looking in a mirror
She is singing reality songs.
OM TAM SOHA
Sweet Lady of the Light
SunMoonStar
Why must we remain so far.
There are tempting dish’s everywhere.
I am in this for the long haul.
SARWA SIDDHI HUNG
Is it T.T. or is it me? (Tarthang Tulku)
That is the question.
I must make an effort, I must at least call.
The number is right here in the temple with its own nicho.
I seek the light and he was first to sooth my charred nervous system.
Coincidence or not, do I need to touch base?
It’s like going up to George Bush Jr. and asking for a favor.
Which is more exciting and which is more dangerous?
Libra question.
It is like charting a course into rough waters with flimsy yoga.
‘but just could be the thing that tweaks a right circumstance for world peace and spreading Holy Dharma.
OM AH HUNG VAJRA GURU PADMA SIDDHI HUNG
Guru yoga with Caesar and Christ.
How Biblical.
OM MANI PADMA HUNG
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