Dateline: Right where I am.
Time: Now.
Subject: Where else could I be,
and at what other time?!

It is a tropical paradise,
the sun is just becoming fully visible over the
water’s horizon,
and here I sit with the impartial keyboard,
and the entire history of human life available
for me to use as mental cannon confetti for the
potential benefit of those people with an
objective, (or at least, "I-can-take-it") interest
in the matter of what human existence may be
about that normally goes unnoticed, and indeed,
is almost beyond notice.
…not quite, 
just -- almost –
and the definition of "almost"
in contemporaneous paradise 
is not the same as in the ghetto.

Pull up a pineapple –
sit down --relax;
open yourself a cold blood
while I tell you faraway tales about the
matter that brought you here,
with the reality of the matter not being
faraway atoll. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

On one planet an unrecognized conflict goes on between two groups;
one which looks out at their yard,
and the other which stares at their furniture.

         One man was a planet.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The desire to, "increase consciousness" 
was not always called such;
at one time it was known as the effort to, 
"expand sensations,"
and before that as, "broadening the bridge". 

   A man, not his own neurologist,
   will always be ill.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

One man confused high winds with indigestion --
his neighbors laughed at him –
things were not as funny as they thought,
his gas was their high winds and vicey versy.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Some men take life as they find it.
Some men resist life as they find it.
Some men take life as they find it, 
but bitch about it.
Some men resist life as they find it, 
and preach the approach to others.
Everybody takes life as it happens to them,
and life apparently doesn’t care whether you comment on it or not,
(since your sentiments simply become a part of
what is happening in life.)
 

In one place the locals would shout into a canyon 
just to hear the echo of their own voice.

Their neighbors would come to watch this,
and stand by, amused by the yelling. 

One man was a canyon --
……and was his neighbors, also.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

       Everybody wants a package --
       nobody looks at how they got it.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

This world is made up of two types of travelers walking along life’s road:
those who turn and look at every passing car,
and those who do not.
For xmas, 
one man wanted to become a road.
 
 
 
 

When you don’t understand what’s going on,
you believe that others do.
Entertaining this belief is what keeps people from
understanding what’s going on.
No one understands what’s going on,
but few are allowed to realize it.
For his birthday one man wanted to 
not be made to understand what’s going on.
Oftimes this one man is every man.
 
 
 
 

In one galaxy, the creatures who think
do not think of themselves & each other as,
"creatures who think", but rather as
thoughts who live in this creature. 

Certain cells in one man’s brain confide that 
a side purpose in their production of thoughts 
is for them to eventually construct a suitable mirror 
in which the cells can see themselves. 

Let all magnetized & protective people stand & sing: 
"No Man Is A Mirror!
……not on MY watch he’s not."
 
 
 
 

There was once an island where everyone was constantly concerned with 
the behavior of everyone else.

Their concern had no effect on anyone’s behavior since their concern was dictated by THEIR behavior.

No one paid any attention to these expressions of concern about behavior,
except those who did –
who would then repeat them.

This island long ago sunk 
without a trace.
…well, with one trace:
everyone now is still the people of that island,
…except for a few who have somehow,
inside their own skull,
become the seas that 
swallowed the island.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

In one corner of the universe 
a movie is constantly shown on a gigantic screen 
whose dimensions are measured in light years. 
The spectacle is so large & encompassing that
all of the beings who reside there have forgotten that
it is just a movie and not real life.
For his bar mitzvah, one man wanted to be the 
empty theatre corner of his own universe.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

On one world, everyone wanted to "wake up", 
and thus the possibility did not exist.

On a neighboring world, everyone was awake, 
and thus the possibility did not exist.

On a near by third world,
everyone was not awake --
only a few wanted to be --
thus the possibility existed --
but it seemed to have 
fallen down a hole, or something. 

A man who is not his own 
posthole digger
will always have a yard full of….well,
full of  --   YARD

The lay of the land depends on whether you look outside,
or stare at the furniture.
 
 
 

There was once a 
School For Enlightenment 
whose method was: 
"Hey, come over here."
It had a competitor whose approach
was: "No, stay where you are."
In a turn of normal expectations,
one man sees the brain’s 
corpus callosum as a physically driven metaphor 
for something intangible, and significant
attempting to communicate with man.
 

Those who count to two 
are being deluded.
Those who count to one are also.
Those who count to three do better,
but nothing replaces 
spotting the counter.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Those who sleep,
dream that the slipcovers are the furniture.
Those who dream they’ve awakened
mistakenly take the furniture as being real.
 

   You must step outside to ever get the real picture of
   what is going on,
   which cannot be accomplished while you’re thinking that there is a
   door you can pass through 
   that is not you.
 
 
 
 

If you wanna wake up quick,
ram your hand down inside & turn that sucker inside out
…(then calmly wipe off your hand 
as you realize that what you’re wiping away is
the old illusion of you-WITH-a-hand.)
 
 

Hey, is that surf inviting or what?!
    You about ready to dive in or what?!

         Do a cannonball off your frontal lobes........
 
 

                                      JAN
 
 
 

The graffiti on the walls of man's collective mind comes in two flavors:
the crude and the poetic,
and to transform the merely amusing into the instructive
you should make the crude poetic, and the poetic, crude.
 
 
 

Telephone book's in place,
left hand's started compin',
the hummin' has begun --  Houston!  -- 
      -- the elf has landed!
                  
   ....it's nice work if you can get it.........