Institution ain’t no solution
1978/79
I’m feeling sick,
I need to leave
Rosy plays with feces
As she clutches for my sleeve
Where the hell’s the key?
Lock the door
Blood trickles from Geoff’s ear
As he cracks his head against the floor
Archie’s breaking windows
Cutting up his wrist
Glen’s going stir crazy
So he lashes out with his fists
Hold that bastard down
Strap him to the bench
My visions getting foggy
I’m feeling nauseous from the stench
Can we give them what they need
Shall we modify their behavior
Or sit back and watch them bleed
Psychologist, psychiatrist,
Teachers and their aides
What function do they serve
besides that of janitors and maids
They wear institution clothes
Follow institution rules
They eat institution food
And become institution fools
So sleep my friend, no reason to arise
For the sun forsakes these wired windows
Bringing brightness to your eyes
Your body is trapped within these walls
Yet I know your soul soars free
So do your thing
Be the king
I hope you can pardon me
Fool in the garden
Or
Hotter then Blotter 78’
How incredibly confusing
and most certainly amusing
that my mind is always working
as the hand is always jerking
to reach that moment of release
to obtain some silence and some peace!
Confusion reigns supreme
as sewage burdens down the stream.
the halls are always cluttered,
what was it, it just muttered?
more rubbish I suppose
perhaps I'm better off with prose!
Clarity I scream
reality or a dream
is there choice or is it fate?
Am I too early or too late?
A confused and sorry state
It even hurts to masturbate!
Chant the Name and daily pray,
Say the yogi’s, it’s the way.
Lose your ego, gain salvation
release yourself of mental constipation,
for the mind is an illusion
which leads back to gross confusion!
Four days on the Rock
Preparation:
A few t-shirts, jacket, hats, toothbrush, lotion;
no books, no weed, no distractions, gonna go pure – wait a minute!
Let’s not forget my judgments, pre-conceptions and stereotypes.
That’s better, ready or not.
Registration:
Arrive at the ROCK mid-afternoon, check-in.
Staff sweet, friendly and helpful.
My own room, small but clean and adequate, very cool.
Checking out my new digs, beautiful scene, simple and yet perfect!
Judgments in good working order, teachers, fellow yogis – under control.
Day 1:
Yogis look like “night of the living dead” as they pass by en route to meditate.
The SILENCE is deafening! Sitting is not working,
what the fuck am I doing here?
The bell rings and we drag ourselves to breakfast,
no eye contact, no smiles, no coffee!
Time, plenty of bloody time. This is not going to work.
Day 2:
Restless, not sleeping; today is going to be better.
Eight strokes on the bell, felt good.
Sitting calmer, more focus, no talking suits me fine.
Walk to the meditation platform, lizards cover the earth and hawks the sky.
The sun smoothes the rough edges and the judgments start to fall away.
Day 3:
Felling right, like this! Sitting, drifting away, caught it and then away again.
Just watch, non attach, like this!
The voices are many and virtually non-stop and yet softer, less demanding, gentle.
Day 4:
Just the morning then back on the road, back home, back to the world.
Just four days on the ROCK! Perhaps next time I’ll go for ten!
Nightmare in Slow Motion
At my best,
I accept this challenge,
to live in the present,
experiencing each excruciating movement
as if I were a Zen Master, curious yet non-attached.
More often, I sit as a passive participant ,
observing my progressive, debilitating
nightmare in slow motion!
Reminders of who I once was,
as if alien starships striking at will.
All shield are down
and any resistance is futile!
Communication channels cease to function,
My arsenal of emotions remains –
anger, rage and fear.
Acceptance, tolerance, love and hope
fall victim to this ever expanding
black hole, this nightmare in slow motion.
I am a husband, a father, a brother, son, a friend, and soon to be Grandfather and I am loved!
But alas, the prison bars grow more visible.
So in the final analysis the question is –
am I the Zen Master or the inmate?
Light at the end of the tunnel – I think it’s the end ??
The prison bars swing open
and I am able to run not walk,
for I have been there and done that!
In the distance I can make out a light,
a second chance, a new beginning.
For it takes a keen eye and some brain surgery,
to recognize the difference between a dead end
and a false start!
Suicide by any other Name
The light went out, the darkness descends once again.
I stand confused, fatigued, depressed and alone, always alone!
My nightmare returns with a new intensity.
Each step I take feels like a walk through wet cement.
Breathing is shallow, labored, fragile, and it KNOWS.
RUN, RUN, I shout into the emptiness;
and then I get just how absurd it all is.
Run, I can hardly move!
If I were not nearly paralyzed with fear,
I could have laughed in its face.
Immobile, inactive, imprisoned, I stand silent and incoherent.
In a desperate and impulsive effort to dispel the nightmare;
To put it to rest, to extinguish the light, to be finished!
I awake in a fog, people are talking, I hear but cannot see.
I am disembodied, neither here nor there.
Back to oblivion, back to sleep, to rest, to dream.
When I once again awake, I am informed of my attempted suicide!
In the end, it matters not whether you win or lose,
but how you play the game,
we hold the light, we have the spark,
suicide by any other name.
In Praise of Life!
Praise to the waters falling from the skies
Praise to the beauty which brings a tear to the eyes
Praise to the Brother who so sweetly plays the saxophone
Praise to the magic hidden within the stone
Praise to remembering that the divine and I are one
Praise to the flowers which open to the sun
Praise to the wonder of our children being born
Praise to the glory of the blowing of the horn
Praise to Father Eagle, Mother Fox, Brother Bear
Praise to Sister Cat, Brother Elk, Sister Hare
Praise to those who thrive in water, fly the currents,
walk or crawl upon the land
Praise to the ring of love which is always on my hand
Praise to dreams at bedtime, or in the middle of the day
Praise to sleeping soundly, or rolling in the hay
Praise to the joy of reading books of facts or fancy,
of inspiration, books of peace
Praise to organic gardens, to conscious eating,
engageing in the feast
Praise to a healthy future, without pollution, hate or greed
Praise to the Great Turning, to future generations,
to planting of the seed
Praise to these feeling of connection, of gratitude, of awe
Praise to my body, whole, complete,
without blemish, without flaw
Praise to friends and family, to daughter, son and wife
Praise to Mother Gaia, to HaShem – to Love –to Life!
What is Love ?
Love is what remains
after it's been used for the umpteenth time,
Like an old rag, rinsed out, squeezed,
and still gets it clean.
Love is the long work,
the long haul,
Long after the spit and polish
no longer retains it's shine.
Love is present, regardless
of recognition or thank you.
Love is a lifetime,
no ego, no strings, no conditions.
Love is so easy when it's all good,
When the shit hits the fan,
Love is what stays the night,
like a lighthouse guides you to a safe port.
Love is only superficially
about physical attention, frivolity and joy
Love is what sticks, it is the glue
That can mend the broken shards of this world.
1 comment:
Very creative.
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