Change me! Can’t you see I need help?!
It’s about get manic and it won’t matter who’s hearing me after that.
I tried, everything, man..
That funny building on Sunset Blvd.
The cathedral place…
The temple with the returning multiple lives…
And almost half the aisle of the self-help, love-in-error, live-on-tofu bull*** at Barnes and Noble.
And I’m the only one who can see it.
If I could show you the voodoo of my insides, you would run from streaming truth that
I AM NOT WELL.
My email is bloated with
Every imaginable “Thought of the Day” and
Spiritual “Walk in your Customized Light,” fortune cookie craziness that I can get my hands on.
I could fill a festival tent with candles, incense, crystals, beads, stones and wood.
I’d make a killing if ebay posted second-hand souls
Oh, excuse me, “previously owned.”
I turned up the volume on the inner INNER peace.
And THAT noise was worse than the outside, bubblegum nonsense on the magazines and videos.
I even went to the sacred grounds,
Backpacking in my healing journal
Humming mantra, chant and breathing
Across the paths of the prophets…
I got the hiccups.
And I had to start that hike
ALL the way from the beginning.
I’m tired. I’ve gone everywhere from urban jungle meditation to mental warring in Serenity Hills.
No bell and dragon
Cap and tunic can ring and clothe me in peace.
I feel the thorn of uncertainty in my sleep.
If I die tonight, would THAT be relief?
I re-coded the entire inventory in my warehouse of positive mental attitude.
Barcodes for beauty-in-a-box still come up short.
Something’s wrong and nothing’s changing. I’m a machine that won’t shut down.
My anxiety has a perpetual generator fueled by exhaustion.
My only renewable resource is
My own misery.
No one understands me and burying me isn’t good enough.
I know there’s something more.
Where the musicians get their ideas
Where the painter mixes color
Where they store the children’s laughter
Where the old, married couples go to retire
Where the seas and trees get their orders
Where the mountains and plains learn their borders
Where the poets scribe instruction
Where the tender learn seduction
Where the rainbows get their direction
Where soulmate’s touch is perfect affection
It has to all come from somewhere…right?
I think, if I have that, I would stop
Vomiting the contradictions
Gagging on the half-truth
If somebody would feed it to me whole
I’d swallow the sunshine message
Like a sweet summer orange
I’d spend the rest of my days
Digesting the Light.
I COULD CHANGE.
If someone could just read it to me,
I … just … might.