Writings

i have written volumes of poetry, lyrics, monologues and insights that are presented here for your inspiration. volumes for download will be available. most of my writings are based on transformation and expanding awareness. i'm on a perpetual crusade to shift awareness from ego-based, conditioned, narcissistic consciousness to unity-based conscious presence.

here are a few samples in various styles:

a few poems

i'm not a poet

Im not a poet
I’m just reading something the poet in me wrote
I’m just repeating what I was told to say in a moment of inspiration

I’m not a poet
That’s too much responsibility
It’s a badge. It’s a flag. It’s a t-shirt.
A label, a moniker,
an excuse to avoid the void
to avoid the free-fall backwards trusting someone will catch me

I am not a poet
poets are what people call people
who give birth to surprise
something they couldn’t even control
like vomit, or sneezing, or giving birth

no, I’m not a poet
I don’t even know what that means
Sure, I can I define it
But that’s not what it is
It’s only something i point to
Like an isolated object in a photograph
Or a move i just saw in a dance that will never repeat

No, poetry is the sacred, mysterious, uncontrollable flow
That happens in spite of any and all of us

If I were to recite a poem,
and there was no one there to hear it,
or to call it a poem
or to call me a poet
what would I be then?


So here’s the paradox:
But as soon as you point to a river,
What you just pointed to is no longer there
So maybe a river is not the water at all
Maybe it’s just the groove that holds the current that never stops moving

And maybe a poem is a current
A poet, a river
And maybe I’m just a groove
A constantly eroding container

So all this leads me to believe that I am not a poet!

I’m like the water you can’t point to,
Because I no longer exist where you just pointed
And maybe the poem is not what I’m reading
Maybe the poem…is what I am
All that I am, all that you are

And if I can speak through a groove,
A container that is mute
and as dumb as a rock
then maybe… just maybe,
I am the poem
You are the poem
We are the letters and words
in an uncontrollable monologue, poly-log, multi-log, omni-log
just…meaningless…letters…and words…
that only find meaning
in relation to one another
and in order for a poem to be a poem
we have to be aware,
we have to listen,
we have to notice
image, texture, metaphor, re-la-tion
and that mysterious quality that makes a poem a poem

I, you, us, we, them, it, this, that, all, nothing
It’s all the poem

And as to the poet?

I have no idea.

good for me

health food is supposed to be good for me
like regular exercise
regular sleep
and regular bowels

like a committed relationship
a steady job
and a 401k

good for me…

like taking vitamins
drinking plenty of water
and practicing yoga

like driving a hybrid
avoiding second-hand smoke
and always practicing safe sex

me?
i’ve been developing the art of alchemy
transforming a cigarette
into a bonding agent between friends
transforming a glass of wine
into a moment of heart-opening ecstasy
and transforming a hit of pot
into a year of therapy

i can turn the giddy sugar-rush of a banana split
into precious mindless innocence
i can time travel on good whiff of gas
to the back seat of my dad’s ’59 impala wagon
and i can be instantly teleported to the streets of athens
by the smell of diesel exhaust

i have had one-night stands
that opened my heart forever
and the self-satisfied lethargy of a 3/4 pound filet?
well, that just feels good

i don’t use sunblock
‘cuz i like occasionally peeling skin off my shoulders
and i have to mention that i met a 106 year-old man
who chained smoked with tobacco-stained fingers
and who’s children had all died of old age

so, is it really size that matters?
is the value of a life measured by its length?
or its girth?

and what are the implications of this occasional recklessness?
well, perhaps it’s an affirmation
that non-guilty pleasure is not a crime punishable by death
that options exist in life to be enjoyed and appreciated
that joy and gratitude are pre-existing conditions for miracles to occur
that a magician can turn poison into medicine
sickness into vitality, and authenticity into divinity.

and that a punishing belief system will kill you much faster than a cigarette.

a sense of silence

the rush of cars, images of mars
pale face on a subway train,
hushed in a no-smoking lane
clinging…to this mortal coil,
as fires churn the plumes of oil
rising…to the brittle sky,
a bloodshot eye,
a vision of salvation dries a melancholy tear
there's a sense of silence here...

cancer wards,
a spinning towards,
apocalypse
a whisper on our last-word lips
the red sun cuts
the flaming sea
an acid river spits and licks
the filigree
of sprouting green
as signs of life appear
there's a sense of silence here...

the violence of judgment
the torment of thinking
a look in the eye of a god that is blinking
the weight of the sky on a world that is sinking
down, down, down
beneath it’s own shadow

behind the mask… of every day
beneath the veil… of every night
through the shroud i hear you say
every thing's ok
every thing's alright

the flooded streets, salvation meets
a stranger with12 broken dreams
an open hand that gathers dust
sand, rust, lifelines 
on ancient, folded metal seams
lifetimes, the space between
then screams of glee when children's christmas dreams appear
there's a sense of silence here...

your voice on the phone, a time alone
connecting to, affecting touch
to feel so much,
your face in sleep,
a time to keep
never, ever to repeat
the holding…of a moment
the knowing…of something sacred
naked
in the face of grace
when angels seem so near
there's a sense of silence here...

the violence of judgment
the torment of thinking
a look in the eye of a god that is blinking
the weight of the sky on a world that is sinking
down, down, down
beneath it’s own shadow

behind the mask… of every day
beneath the veil… of every night
through the shroud i hear you say
every thing's ok
every thing's alright

the bounty

through the gift of loneliness, you lead me to love
through the gift of suffering, you teach me compassion
through the gift of my anger, you bring me peace
through the gift of judgment, you show me equanimity
through the gift of selfishness, my generosity is born
through the gift of sacrifice, I am taught to receive
through the gift of ignorance, your wisdom comes to me
through the gift of limitation, I embrace the infinite
through the gift of unworthiness, I am shown my value
through the gift of conflict, I am given peace
through the gift of sadness, I discover joy
through the gift of mortality, my life is filled with meaning
through the gift of confusion, I am brought to clarity
through the gift of arrogance, humility finds its way to me
through the gift of brutality, tenderness prevails
in the wake of your infinite mystery, my sense of wonder is born
in the face of your magnificence, I am filled with awe
holding my hands out to your infinite generosity,
I am infinitely abundant
these are the gifts you bestow upon me
these are the gifts I receive so graciously
and in gratitude, I transmute your gifts
and in gratitude, I return them, transmuted, back to you

I happen

I don’t TRY anymore
I just kind of HAPPEN
and I don’t WRITE this
it just happens THROUGH me
and I’M not the one who LOVES you
“I” am WAY too small for that
love just HAPPENS in YOUR presence through ME

I’m not even the one who THINKS
I have NO CONTROL over my thoughts
thinking streams THROUGH me
and just happens

I can step back
from some IMAGINARY space
in my IMAGINED SELF
and I can watch ME happen
and I can WATCH me WATCH
but THAT just kind of HAPPENS too

so what of MY WILL and the choices I make?

I can watch myself CHOOSE
and I can think I’m responsible for my choices
but I have to I laugh
because MY CHOICES are made
IN RESPONSE to all the things I had NO CONTROL OVER
in the first place
they just HAPPENED

then what’s the use of BEING HERE if I am just HAPPENING?
I don’t know?
maybe I need to pose the question to ALL OF EXISTENCE
 
and SEE what happens

the wounded

whatever protects me from being seen protects me from seeing
so there is no protection at all in this place of hiding
I grope, half blind, through the world of the wounded
I fear my woundedness
but even more, I fear my blindness

once I walked too close to fire
and I was burned and scarred
and my skin became hard
and I refused to let the fire touch me again in the same way
little did I know that I had been ignited
and in time my fire from within
spread and grew to meet my hardened skin
heat and light, the essence of my essence
can only be contained for so long
so now, with every breath, I fan the fire
and every glance emits more light
and slowly scars melt down from the inside out

at one time my innocence was met with resistance
and I found the resistance to be my foe
and so I ran and ran but never got away
and as swift as I could run
my resistance met me like a wind in my face
growing ever stronger
and so I became a better runner
and the wind fanned my fire
and so my heat and fire grew
and my resistance became my strength

one day, quite innocently, I turned to run in the direction of the wind
to find my self almost weightless, stepping lightly

pure innocence can be blind and tender
‘till tempered with resistance
‘till resistance brings wisdom
and wisdom draws angels to the earth
and feet,
uncalloused,
to the ground

the invisible man

on any given day
I am all too seen
in the play
of my familiar world

walking
up against the wind
singing
over sacred silence
and standing
heavy on my shadow

looking
for my place
I watch myself
wandering
through the labyrinth of the great human riddle
wondering
about the infinite and eternal mystery
sensing myself
small like sand
diaphanous like sea

and when I find that
I no longer can see myself
and when I simply see
I forget
that I was looking
and know
that I am
finding
my place to be

to nowhere

I want to slide with you
like two salamanders
slipping in a muddy pool
to feel cool water
on your warm skin
to dive in
and discover the primal pulse
within the heart
of nowhere

I want to ride
the rhythm of our ways
together through our dawning days
wide-eyed
in constant surprise
to meet in full flame of the sun
to run
to the horizon
to welcome with you the mysterious moon
rising to meet us
none too soon
when the light falls short
and the night brings a time for longing
when my song calls out to the dark
and your voice sings
back to me
and our words on wings
like solitary birds in flight
meet and unite
under the sacred spell of silence
and a canopy of stars
over nowhere

with you
I want to fall
into the dark unknown
to spark and ignite
like twin meteorites
spinning deep into the embrace
of unearthly atmospheres
dizzy and breathless
on the edge of fear
open-armed and poised
to penetrate the sea
and greet our destiny
with noiseless entry
into nowhere

in the face of you
I no longer choose
I lose commandment of my will
and feel the force of grace
gently overtake me
and so absolved of my volition
saturated in a new-found faith
like an angel
I assume forever
the position of prayer
and kneel with you
at the gates of nowhere

and so my life becomes a prayer
and so my prayer becomes a life
a living prayer
and a life emerging
in every moment
out of nowhere

a few essays

descending into heaven

for the most part, the human condition is a lonely one. and though we are social beings by nature, we are also spiritual orphans, abandoned by god, and left longing for the comfort of deep familial connectedness. we grope, adopting religions and philosophies to placate the empty hands of our souls. most humans adopt the notion that our creator is transcendent of this world, out of our reach, beyond the horizon. many hope, at best, to "meet the maker" at the end of this terrestrial ride. as i sit this morning watching the sun rise behind a magnificent plume of clouds, i am inspired to share the experience of my descent into heaven.

I carry the assumption that there is some sort of governing intelligence or force that created all of this. whether it is within me (projecting everything around me) or transcendent of me (and i am a miniscule component of everything), or some combination of the two, doesn't really matter. i do accept that whatever did create all of this is so far beyond the grasp of my rational mind that i simply accept it. i feel the presence of it.

up to now, i have pretty much gone with the assumption that we are dropped into this sensual heaven and mental purgatory to experience, to live, to grow, to evolve, and in the process, to acquire some wisdom in regards to our position in the cosmos. to me, the spiritual path has appeared like a ladder upon which i ascend closer and closer to some sort of nirvana, or a "yellow brick road" at the end of which i will find oz, reap my just reward for a life examined. this perspective was my conditioning. this was my assumption.

this morning, as the sun climbs over the clouds, i am pondering a different possibility. today, i ask the question, “why would something of infinite intelligence need or want to create a world that is somehow incomplete and in need of evolving to higher levels of perfection?” why wouldn’t the cosmos just be created perfect in the first place and sit in the eternal bliss of an ever-perfect state of flux? let’s face it, god doesn’t have to evolve! what if this world is perfect and time, space, matter, and energy are the media through which this perfection is expressed? instead of being lowly creatures flopping around like clumsy puppies who haven’t grown into our paws, what if we are chosen beings privileged in every moment to this ride through perfection? what if all of our judgements of “good”, “bad”, “right”, “wrong”, “higher”, “lower”, are manifestations of ingratitude? what if all of this hierarchical thinking is the expression of a consciousness that has yet to embrace and appreciate the perfection of the astounding and endlessly fascinating world in which it exists? i’m going to leave these rhetorical questions for now.

we are royalty to the kingdoms of this world. the empires of color, sound, aroma, flavor, texture, emotion, imagination are all bestowed upon us at birth. we don’t have to earn them and they remain available to us all the time. the animal, vegetable, and mineral worlds are all but kaleidoscopic and hallucinatory in their variety and intensity. we have all been granted the ultimate privilege- that of life itself. no matter what our circumstances, it is still our gift.

today, i am not thinking about the nirvana i might achieve after this lifetime (or others). i’m not thinking about heaven after the good life lived. today, i am absorbed in the intensely brilliant orange of the geraniums in front of me, in the sound of the waves lapping the shoreline in the distance, in the sensation of the warm, moist breeze on my skin, in the spicy fragrance off the dry hills around me, and in the lingering bittersweet flavor of coffee on my tongue. today, now, in this moment and if only in this moment, i am filled with gratitude and appreciation. i am grateful for this amazing experience of life itself that i have paused to appreciate. today, i don’t need to ascend to any height above this lovely ground. today, i have focused my sight down to earth and have descended into heaven.

we haven’t loved enough

“as I begin to identify my true “self” as one with the force of all creation, I am faced with the inevitability of embracing everything I’m opposed to, including all atrocities, as a part of myself.” – c.s.

we, as a race, exist as a collective with no one excluded. if we truly love ourselves, we must also love every component of the collective that is humanity. faced with those who perpetrate violence, hatred, and cruelty, this can be a colossal challenge. I chose to believe that we could heal the violence that our race inflicts upon itself by learning, as individuals, to embrace, love, and nurture the collective as we would any individual the we care deeply for.

as I am loved and nurtured by family, friends, relationships, community, and environment, I feel a growing sense of belonging. as I am reached, touched, supported, and included by those around me, I feel a growing sense of identification with those who play a part in my development. losing my sense of separation (experiencing love) allows me to feel more responsive to, and more responsible for those around me. this sense of extended family allows me to feel comfortable, safe, and inspired to share love. the more love I nurture within myself and with those around me, the wider my sense of identification. as I start to experience it all as a great system feeding back on itself, I notice how “giving” to anyone else becomes “giving” to a part of myself. and so “giving” and “receiving” become less distinguishable. the expanding sense of feeling myself in others, in animals, in the natural environment, gives me a sense of communicating, exchanging love, and sharing identity with all things. from this, I sense my position in everything. I sense god in and around me. 

directing negativity towards others works in the same way. it comes right back at me. but as love frees and heals my deep-seated anger, sadness, and abandonment, these “filters” no longer handicap my ability to reach out and be reached.

what of those who steal, rape, murder, and inflict other forms of violence on fellow humans, animals, and nature? I see them (us) as having fallen out of the fold of love. I see those who have “fallen from grace” as those who are trapped in a very limited sense of identification. their empathic circumference is very small. taking from “another” or hurting “another” does not resonate within them in the same way it would resonate within a being whose heart has begun to reach toward infinity. somewhere their experience has told them that they are emotionally, psychologically and karmically separated from others.

if we are to truly expand our identity to include everyone, we must look at the part of ourselves that is separated. we must own the “fallen”, the poor, the hungry, the suffering, the faithless, the wounded, and any who appear to be separated from us as a part of ourselves. and here I have to ask, “have we not loved enough?”

clearly, societies are divided and separated by economic strata.  this is a glaring metaphor for how we physically manifest and perpetuate the separation we feel in our hearts. the poor, the criminal, the wounded, the hungry, the separated, exist because we have not extended our hearts far enough to include them. I vaguely remember a quote from the Buddha as saying that he could not achieve his full Buddha-hood until all of humanity had done the same. and so I must ask ask,” can anyone be truly wealthy when part of  themselves is homeless or starving?” can anyone find peace without addressing the part of themselves that is suffering? is there contentment for anyone in a world where conflict and competition are epidemic?

we can’t heal the wounds of the world single-handedly, but we can extend ourselves to those within our reach. we can offer help to a neighbor, smile at a stranger, contribute to a charity, and generally be vigilant for the opportunities where generosity, kindness, compassion, tolerance, and understanding can be exercised. every moment provides the opportunity to expand our experience of love. gestures of love remind us and others that the boundaries of our humanity are more inclusive than exclusive. perhaps, one day, we will be delivered into the awareness that there are truly no limits  at all to the reach of our humanity.

sacrifice

in a  moment of radical lucidity, i received a series of profound messages. the first message came in these words: "you must suspend all agreements or you will die". and then again, "you must suspend all agreements or you will die". this suggestion turned out to be a gateway to a series of relentless assaults on the illusion of my linear world. it introduced me to the notion of sacrifice. it told me that in order to remain conscious, i must put everything on the table as expendable. this way, i could observe and reevaluate what was currently real for me. to make matters even more challenging, i began to understand that i must do this to some extent in every moment.

keeping in mind the principal that matter is neither created nor destroyed, i've begun to see how letting go of something only makes room for something else. i have since had to loosen my grip on possessions, relationships, activities, concepts, and most importantly, any rigid notions of who I think I am. i have put chris spheeris on the table, retained some things that were still relevant, and let go of other things that were not. it wasn't easy. it didn't feel good at first. as a matter of fact, for the first time in my life i experienced depression. what i learned from being depressed was that it was the signal from the deepest part of my awareness that the real me no longer fit the frame inside of which i was holding myself. the good thing about bottoming out to is that you start to feel you have nothing to lose. it’s easier to risk then. what was it janice joplin once sang? " freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose. " i never understood what that meant until I allowed myself to be depressed.

truth is a great force. if i listen for it, it will ask me to do things i've never imagined. it will ask me to walk naked and to be invisible. it will ask me to die to myself over and over. it will ask me to surprise, shock and sometimes distance those closest to me by showing them that I am no longer who they thought I was. those who can embrace the change in me will experience a liberation in themselves. those who cannot will inevitably be moved to the periphery of my experience. this is the nature of sacrifice - to put everything on the table: my joys, my sorrows, my security, my fear, my attachment, my possessions, my career, my friends, my partners, my family, my habits, and everything that makes me who we thought I was, all in the name of truth and living a life that is real.