Love Dog Junkie

Love Dog Junkie

Our continued awakening isn’t free
We pay the price
Have and will always pay the price
As we were all
Conceived
In the light of the beginningless beginning
From the very start
Our hearts began to open
Vibrating into
The multifarious sagas
Bearing witness to the soul through eternity
Through the cosmic gate designed by angels
Made with diamonds
Faceted with the gluons of GOD’s
Celebration
Whose known and unknown fate
Is sung by the ineffable One
Branching outward
Like a tree, like a trillion tributaries
Bumbling through the spoken word
Like a love dog junkie
Hanging on by a string

Advertisement

Dhani

Dhani

When Dhani (Pronounced Donny), the secret hitting coach of recent fame, was forced to return to India last time, some of the Mets players responded by spotting what was considered then to be hallucinations about squirrels; others insisted they were raccoons or even rats…but some said it was none of that – it was an alien race of birds that were a lot smarter than people – and hungrier – you can imagine the fear. What could possibly go wrong?

Dhani, (Pronounced Donny) was the secret hitting guru, many of the Mets hitters inwardly went to for future secrets on hitting. Like what pitch, what at bat, what time of day, what chop-suey, what chained down bottle of Merlot, what ghost –
They’d do anything to improve their averages, repeating Meher Baba’s Perfect Name

Play ball!

Between 2019 and 2021 was considered at that time only aged 10, a hitting coach extraordinaire. But because of green card issues, somehow, in the dark of night, Dhani was very quickly ushered away and suspiciously expelled from America without warning or reason.

Only latter was it determined that he was air-lifted out of America and dropped into the city of Rishikas, India, where he has now resided until just recently. In April, he was spotted by some Mets themselves, almost unbelievably, dancing atop the Empire State Building with 3 players and a player to be named later from a cross-town team proclaiming “We can rule the world…”

Dhani is now 12.5 years of age and is considered by many Baseball scouts to be the first ever Perfect Master of Baseball

Bursting At The Seams

Bursting At The Seams

What a long, strange trip it’s been
Now to find myself with Baba
Instead of myself
My whole self
And nothing but myself
And his mischievous companions:
Me, myself and I

All suave and debonair
But subject to decay
It’s not a matter
Of whether or not we obey
It’s obedience to breathe is innate
Like what would happen if our next
Breath was suddenly taken away
To understand
What helplessness really means

So I take my next breath in freedom
With Baba bursting at the seams…

Energy

Energy

Having our psyche broadcast
And culturally fine tuned
Like a strap razor blade
In a Norman Rockwell feature painting
Soaked into the canvas
Until one’s true nature pops through

Energy is GOD
I’m reminded to mention
Somewhere in Valhalla
As the individual love song
That you are is so sweet
As it was originally sung
Into the beauty of the stars
It’s just the energy you are
What a long, strange trip it’s been
Now to find myself with Baba
Instead of myself
My whole self
And nothing but myself
And their mischievous compadres:
Me, myself and Irene
All suave and debonair
But slightly subject to decay
It’s not a matter
Of whether or not we obey
It’s obedience to breathe is innate
Like what would happen if our next
Breath were suddenly taken away
To understand
What helplessness and hopelessness
Really means
So I take my next breath in freedom
With Meher Baba bursting at the seams…

Like Jupiter

Like Jupiter

It would have to be big
Like Jupiter
Or the Hulk
To scare me
Or make me pee my own pants
Or surrender
My reflex to squeeze or relax
Hold it! Flash!
Another thunderbolt
Unconsciously unconscious
They told me not to get old –
I didn’t listen

If I gave them GOD SPEAKS
And it’s
Used as kindling
The very next day
Into the fireplace
Or maybe used as emergency toilet paper
What’s that to me?
I did my part
Made contact
They’ve glimpsed Meher Baba
Where a revolution in its’ own right
But inward
Is always taking place

As long as we
Are all still agreed
It doesn’t mean a hill of beans
Even unspoken hills
Ingesting unspoken thrills
Manufactured at unspoken tills
Sold by unspoken shills
Just to make a point
We leave our animal nature behind
To let our true Divine Nature shine
Meher Baba! Meher Baba! Meher Baba!

Calling All Cars

Calling All Cars

Calling all cars
Calling all cars
Do you read me?
Over

Yes 4,761
You’re one of the homeless
Outside Baba’s wine shop

Buddy can you spare a dime
Then I’ll tell you about the Bliss
One nip of which
And true freedom
Begins to abide inwardly
Awakening

Afraid

Afraid

The poet within me
Is the poet within you
As the soul within you
Is the soul within me

And Baba within you
Is Baba within us
Despite the multifarious exemptions
And rationalizations
Of the fake world

We intrinsically know false from authentic
Like a commercial on TV
Always saying
Why not me
Why not me
Chasing the dragon of temptation
Across a the disastrous glade
Knowing and unknowing
And always afraid

Bare Assed

Bare Assed

OF COURSE
Addiction to love
Is always a source of great humor
When the ego hits the soul
Hit and run, rock and roll
As are the rounds of births and deaths
They come and go like explosions
Soon forgotten
In the milieu of Eternity

Yes Baba
I understand my weaknesses
Can we just have fun for now
And spread the hard work out
Over several lifetimes?

He said
You’re already on the credit plan
The soul stays away
In embarrassment
To first hand knowledge
Of what bare assed meant

Fool On The Hill

Fool On The Hill

I never asked to be the Fool On The Hill
Who would want that job?
No health insurance
Microwaved breakfast, lunch and dinner
No lodging, no spouse
You have to withstand all kinds of weather
Snow
And that icy wind that settles in
And freezes the marrow in your bones

OK, I got GOD’s mercy, I get it
As is the common lot
Of all Fools On The Hill ever
And that’s everything, I’m aware
But must the price be
That I maintain this position
And serve perennially
As the honorary Fool On The Hill
Aren’t their term limits
Health insurance
Other than the Medicare disadvantage plan
Or a retirement juxtaposition?

I walk through the mall
And soak in humanity
To be with my
Gross conscious
Human brothers and sisters
But I don’t talk
I use the latest, greatest ear buds
To deflect everyone’s thoughts
To deflect their fantasy
As I bounce along in my own world
With my own beat

There are couples just beginning relationships
Some together, some in trouble,
And those beings of endless beauty – children
Carriages, cripples, and gentle folk alike
I walk through them and with them
And in them
Nameless

As I walked past Lord & Taylors
And the loud inner voice comments
“I am not your pimp.”
I asked why?
It said, “Because it’s all made up for karma
By sanskaras, natural and unnatural
If I go in there and screw around
I’ll have to rewire the whole thing
But if it’s in the cards
That I rewire the whole thing
Consider them rewired

Struggling to absorb
The silence at the open core of love
If I’m successful – that’s my offering
If I’m unsuccessful – that’s also my offering
As long as I give my best
There is no true humility without humiliation
Struggle, improvise, grow, evolve, transmute
I keep repeating like a mantra
The mall is my last audience, my only audience,
Today my brain got machine gunned with ideas
So that I had to stop at the dollar store
To buy a pen and notebook
As I walk, I stop when I get an idea
Move to the side, and write it down,

People ask me what I’m doing, and I reply
“I’m writing about the Mall
And they walk away seemingly contented

Other people just look
As if to say
“What’s that?” Thinking I’m a monitor
As I mentally project
“No I’m just an opinionated reporter
From a great metropolitan newspaper
I refuse to be tattooed
With the overblown political sophistication
I wallow in the mire
I’m on the sacrificial altar
The dust at the feet of nothingness
I am washed up on the shore
Of the holy flowing wine of love
And the more they attempt to destroy the still
The more intoxicating the wine becomes

Like a gambler on an endless winning streak
Like some deep, mysterious mojo, but enduring
Like a holy dynamism that protects and defends us
And it’s easy to see how poverty is the seed of wisdom
Poverty of the heart
From not being able to love
Poverty of the soul
From not being able to have faith
These are the real poor

Not those dancing in the courtyard
’Neath the star swept twilight
At the wedding celebration
With
Or without a fervent and persistent desire
To renunciate for his sake
And for our own
Perhaps sapphire blue, or chartreuse
Or american rose
An elaborately intricate
Involution
Blossoming through a random mirror
Shadow of the stone
Into the universal grinding wheel
And then it turns
And then it grinds us
Priceless pearls, wisdom gold
Yet, the nearer the oblivion
The finer the wine

The impermanence of everything
The transience
Nothing lasts,
Some grand joke
That practically no-one gets
When broken on the crying rock
Weeping blood
Even as partakers of the great festivals of light
With preternatural moon-glow
Wild rides, hootenannies, ceremonies, war stories
Phantoms, heroes
Heads of state roll
And impossibly twisted evolutionary schemes and themes
And memes
We watch
In all complexity is simplicity
Waiting in exile – waiting for our hearts
To discover, to know
To be made aware
Beneath the vast apparent veil
Until we take off our famous masks
Dancing in the courtyard
’Neath the star swept midnight
At the wedding celebration

They served me a love sick cabernet
The pineal drips
The kundalini rockets
The crown chakra fountains
With cleansing streams
Of glorious blossoms
As the gatekeeper is drunk tonight
We might be able to sneak by
The gate to the nether temple is rich
Beyond thought
So I bow to the dust
What I never knew
Has overcome me
And my cup runneth over with love

Palace in Valhalla

Palace in Valhalla

It’s official

Each drop soul suffers
And is suffering
Otherwise where
Would we get all the grist
For the mill of LOVE
Gradually AWAKENED

I got the memo
I took the cure
And am forwarding it to you

We suffer most
Through the pain of separation
From the Beloved
Though disguised as the world
We all struggle up the hard way
Up from mud
Oblivious to the goal
We drink the blood
We eat the flesh
We sample the fine wines
Available at the subtle
Clandestine wine shop
Run by the Avatar of our age

This is not just some Palace in Valhalla
Or some subtle plane Yogi
Flirting with Nirvana

This is Meher Baba