All of My Life

My life

All of my life

I’ve been runnin’

From thoughts (from you)


My life

All of my life

I’ve been runnin’

from truths

runnin’ from myself.


Why does it feel like the weight of this world

is pressin’ down on me,

the whole of

the collective


steppin’ down

right on me.

If I could just

give it all up

and set myself free

from duality

it would’ve been worth all of the pain.


My lord, My lord

My life

All of the time

I’ve been runnin’ from pain

runnin’ from you. runnin’ from me.


I guess I’ll have to say goodbye

Pack it all in

with the hazy lemon sky above me,

And leave the World behind

Scatter my ashes with the wind

‘Cause it don’t matter where I been.




Tonight we sat down, just the three of us, to read a book; the wants and needs, the friction of life fades away; because all we have we want, and it really doesn’t matter which book we read -if it’s the one with the fallen leaves, or the famous steed – because the warmth of contentment fills our hearts, until it ends and we want another, again, and we have to say goodnight, or no, still we can’t let go.


“My loves, it’s not the book that makes it special, it’s just the willingness to shut the fuck up and listen.”


In this world death is boredom,

it is the sinking feeling in your heart

and your chest, pulling you down into the

couch. A voice echoes, rippling through the corridors of space

trapped within a mind.

When you are the dead you don’t care about anything.

Death is routine. It’s having the same reaction to a similar set of circumstances,

and feeling like every day is exactly the same

I know this world well.

It’s a living hell.

In this world death follows you daily

 because it manifests as the illusion of freedom

Real death is in action, as in the action of following


                   trapped within a mind.

                                    constantly trying to leave something behind

 You are the Dead.


(Note: the title is from the arrest scene in 1984, where Big Brother busts into Winston’s apt. and we hear, “You are the Dead! Remain exactly where you are. Make no moves until you are ordered!” Not meant as some proselytization of Buddhist theory. Since the poem seems to take from some of the themes of 1984 this scene came to mind and thus the title.)

What is freedom? Are thoughts free? What are thoughts anyway? When we choose to believe in the form of a thought, we die. Or so I’ve read.


Now it’s time for everyone’s least favorite blog post…



where an average middle aged white guy pisses his opinions into the cesspools of society.

Dear America,
Culture is what we left behind in the old world
The new culture is the simple things
The things we all experience in one form or another
Birth, the vicissitudes of life, and death.
These are the experiences and facts of our lives that transcend
race, religion, gender, age, law, and politics and expand our 
consciousness into the new world.

That we all have a very simple bond is the truest culture
So we can do without the wall building concepts of the old world.
We've worked so hard to be so proud of our individuality
But it seems to only have split us into further divide
Maybe we could at least all celebrate our love for being in love with
our own opinions?

Or like the great Jello Biafra sang...
We won’t destroy society in a day
Until we change ourselves first
From the inside out
We can start by not lying so much
And treating other people like dirt
It’s easy not to base our lives
On how much we can scam


It sure will feel good to lift that monkey off our backs (chuckles). Join us next time when middle aged white guy puts us on his lap and tells us how we oughta live our lives.


Edit: if you want to check out the rest of the lyrics to the song Stars and Stripes of Corruption by the Dead Kennedys check it out here



Last night I practiced



letting silence pervade after thoughts, or arguments,

where once there was meaning.


Moments of Awareness