Farewell to the Chief

2/16/03

Sinking
Sadness in the ocean
A bank of empty hand-grenades
Trampolines and spaceships
The selective earth salon
Tears
Aphrodite washed downstream
Empty households lash out over seas
Spaceships and trampolines
The red-neck war troubadors
Flotation
Humanity submerged
Society: constructed emptiness
Spaceships and trampolines

2/18/03

What is this i'm doing here?
This incoherent mumbling,
this self-centered mumbo-jumbo
this silliness
This is unregulated, unthoughtful
I write from the hip
sudden, blastful thing

Let's clear the air
here
I like writing better when I write so fast I can barely read the words
this fastness
This thought protrusion
this is some type of poetry? this is free flowing blastocystic creation
This is zygotic, some profoundly, yea, somewhat prokaryotic creation
like a volcanic explosion
Some wrecklessness that appears in the organization of this foolish life
Not how it should or should not be, but what is real
Real is this sudden creation of the prokaryotic cell
and yet here we are
and we ask "what was God thinking?"
And the answer that seems most logical is that God
The creationist
The being that created the possibility of the eukaryote
The unsupposed inevitability of the meeting between the sex cells that results in the zygote
The logical answer is that there was no thought of this
The prokaryote was created, fine, but in that creation was the possibility for evolution
That possibility lies in the fact of imperfection
The fact that change could occur in the reproduction of the cell
And here we are
mutated to such an extent that we are a trillion cells working together to allow some moving mess of universal matter to lie in a dead room and reflect on the unthoughtfullness of form, of creation
We are a result of possibility
If the creator had meant to make us exactly as we are, then this creationist would have made us exactly as we are, or were made to be
But instead we are a result of change and continue to change
there is no constant being
If we were created in an image
we would all look the same
we are a creation of possibility
a result of change
We're just a huge complex erector set project
and furthermore we're just a blip on the timeline of change
we may even take our evolution into our own hands
take the reigns of possibility and press the pause button
or orchestrate some control of this evolution of which we have been powerless under
We are already doing this
We are results of possibility of the creation of something more simple than one of our one trillion cells
and yet we are trying to harness the power of possibility
the movement of change
Our existence is the result of random mutation, variation, change, and yet we are hell bent on controlling that which we are most afraid of,
that which created us,
God

More felch from one of the old journals

The God of Abraham and Isaac is a fallacy of separation, all human beings are offspring of one father who is not a father, one mother who is not a mother, we are children of possibility, a taproot without sex. We are born of infinite possibility, in which exists an acting mind that performs miracles of love.

an old poem I think I wrote in Greece

Chickens in the kitchen cleaning dishes
Sombreros hang as heads from the ceiling
Slaves built the temples of the ancient Greeks
Plaid armchair is a cross eyed monster
A curved road weaves through right angled houses
Behind a clay pot in a charcoal picture

Some Shunryu Suzuki

"Zuikan was as Zen master who always used to address himself. "Zuikan?" he would call. And then he would answer. "Yes!" "Zuikan?" "Yes!" Of course he was living all alone in his small zendo, and of course he knew who he was, but sometimes he lost himself. And whenever he lost himself, he would address himself, "Zuikan?" "Yes!"

The Melting

round and around and around she goes
tacos and burritos and purple pantyhose
My nose is unbroken
My hair unkempt
It's a toss pot circus
and it's not my first attempt
The lights are bright stupid
A fairy tale grove
Ain't nothing new in it since we hired Karl Rove
The filth has built up
We'll use it real nice
We can run the whole world on recycled vice
Shall we build another bomb?
I need to shut my trap
I don't have any answers man,
I lose it when I do.
I'm just another weak fella
Who likes to eat, sleep, and screw
I had the realization and I shouted all day
I have the answer man!
But they locked me away
I'd been drugging myself
They just drugged me more
I slept a lot and drifted out to shore
Let's go have a cocktail

15th Step

Go back to step 1, do not collect 200 dollars

14th step

Relapse

She Walked up the Hill in Sandals

Sometimes the dream is too powerful for the illusions of life
We don't know whether it's the heart talking
Or the mind
Maybe sometimes they speak with the same voice
Maybe sometimes it's best not to ignore the voices from the heart
When the dream makes you smile
While she dances in the wind
Her smile makes your heart bounce
Call it insanity
Beautiful
Sanity is boring anyway
And love floats everlasting through the universe

The Poha Song

Blowrag dish towel
Beef chow main
Tickle my balls
In the pouring rain

Nights out singing
Drunk on life
Blow out the candles
On Chinese delight

More dripping shrimp heads
Fall along the way
Praying for poha berries
Have a nice day

Wrote about a clawrag
On a crazy ass trip
Tapped into mind head
Ate a french dip

Woke up before Christmas
Hungover too
Diddling a stewardess
Out of life made stew

So we clawed out gently
As the night turned gray
Turning pages on acid
Children yesterday

sense

This brain is insane
Wet desires floating past
In a soft parade

Quietly shifting
Sanity Insanity
Nothing left to feel

Biscuits drift in wine
Flabbergasted decisions
Waft and dissapear

Ah for a sweet drink
Comfort in the illusion
Rejoice and relief

But it's not to be
Not today another day
Or when the snow melts

responding to Joe

There is no summit hermano
only the sky
Besides
up is down and down up, no?
And then we die

Another Hawbag

Pain, what is pain?
If I am you and you are me,
the same eyes looking out of different faces,
taking ourselves too seriously?
Is Hell just another face of a mixed up Confucius?
Nothing everything, everything nothing
As time quivers around the base of the mountain

The dope committee sat in outer space
with the soul of Joe behind bars
Angry that he'd abused their sacred power

Medicating life
Darkening what was pure light
Needed no medication

The lines on the asphalt faded
What we had created
Faded
Everything
Faded
Nothing

The spiritual aspect of life?
What part of the basketball isn't round,
asked the legendary Joan
as she ranted about synthetic dog biscuits

Listen to this genius... Joe the Plumber gives us the straight scoop about media bias and our Israeli soldiers. This guy's not helping their cause.

What a loser!

So I have nothing exiting to report, and I used to have a plan to write a movie review website, it was going to be called drewsreviews.com, but somebody else did it, and I never thought of another name, so never followed through on the movie review idea, which is fine since there are any number of movie review websites out there, and this run on sentence is really getting spectacular, so I’m going to continue it by saying that as I am entering a really boring period of my life, in which I am attempting to cut out the many medications which for the past 4 years I have utilized to find peace and serenity in this very sane world of ours, I find it appropriate here to suggest three movies that I have seen recently which finely entertained me and offered brief distraction from my craving for wine. The first of these films was The Wrestler, starring a very buff, puffy faced, 56 year old Mickey Rourke as a washed up wrestler (as you may have guessed) who, like the insane alcoholic who keeps going back the seed of his destruction, cannot seem to break out of his pattern of behavior even when the redemptive power of love is staring him in the face. Sometimes we just can’t seem to say no to those fireman boots! The second film on my distraction list is Slumdog Millionaire, which I think has gotten enough attention to make any sort of summation pointless, but is worth mentioning anyway because it’s a beautiful, very well made movie, even though Danny Boyle’s nod-to-Bollywood dance scene finale was a bit retarded, and added nothing to the potent themes of the film. The number three film on my list, which may have been the most intense of them all, I just saw this evening after one of those secret basement get-togethers for jaywalkers, and was Clint Eastwood’s Gran Torino. I saw the advertisement for this movie and it made me laugh. Watching an old man Eastwood with his most potent angry smirk and gruff, grumpy, glare, was enough to make me want to see the movie, yet it still took me three nights of making plans to go see it, to finally get there, and it would be an understatement to say that it did not disappoint. I got plenty of laughs throughout because Clint’s character was so outrageously blunt in his racism, yet the further into the film we got, the more was revealed about the American melting pot being more of a salad bowl with all the different colors retaining their own flavor, potency, and idiocy. If ever a bad motherfucker could play deep chords on our heart strings it was Walt Kowalski, Eastwood’s hard-edged, hard-assed character who is wrenchingly revealed as a poster of humanity and virtue next door to beautiful and loving Hmong hill tribe neighbors, and a bunch of assholes of every color. This movie has a lot to say about the misshapen values of today (which is not to say that what we should be going for is to be found somewhere in the past). So go see those movies ya’ll. I’m a boring ass fella, just for today, up here on my wagon, no trees melting, no drunken sex in the kitchen snorting powders off fake granite, no watching myself disintegrate in the bathroom mirror doing yoga poses, no hangover tomorrow. Aloha.

a life

I watched the trees breathe
Drank from the pure nothingness
The seasons walked past

ripples

and then winter came
left before the dish towel
wiggling gently

Let it go

Let the claw win
Give up the illusion of control
and then you will not be defeated
"But how?" said the Woodjay
as he bounced along amidst the yams and cherry blossoms and cocaine
Aha, these wicked lips he licked
and walked into the circle smelling his fingers
Ooh the little stools he saw
and wondered at loneliness without medication
But he pointed his rifle quietly
and shot the Woodjay through the chest
in a burst of flaming feathers that scattered to the floor
and then he looked and saw an empty barstool
and calmly walked away.

Invading Gaza

Pow.
Bash.
KaBang!

Let's all go insane!

Machine gun fire

Let the sun come up,
the bombs make the sky line look like sunrise.

Quietly the jagged competition between Muslims and Jews

This land is my land,
This land is my land,

This land is my land go Fuck Off

This land was made for you and I

Bang
Pow
Kaboom

once again

As to the question of whether the glass is half full or half empty, I would like to remind us, there is no glass.

Bombs in the Bubble!

It may or may not have been because Paris Hilton was in town..., but one of our old locals decided to finally drop the bomb on us. Thankfully we didn't blow up, and who knows, as my good friend Danny recently pointed out, there could still be simmering explosives somewhere in our fine little mountain village. Anyways, pity that Gucci and all the other fine luxury stores of ours made it through unscathed. Well at least nobody was hurt. Jim Blanning, the perpetrator of this crime, poor man, couldn't seem to accept the greedhead takeover of his little hometown. It seems to have driven him insane. Guess he never got that acceptance thing. I'm working on it myself. No point being pissed off. It is what it is. Decided to jump off the train that goes around in circles, along the base of the great mountain. Time to get on the stair-master, the escalator, time to start climbing again. Let's trudge. Aloha.