Monologue 2

Post by **stilltrucking** » February 11th, 2006, 3:09 am

I keep the image of her face in mind
she creates a calm place in my heart cave
the biochemistry of love
her face is the flower
that Buddha held in his hand
it makes me smile like
Mahakasyapa

"Der Kuntsnmakher fun Lublin
Had a heart like an old style cash regester
when you punch down a key up pops another woman's face
but now there is no sale
just a feeling of affection and tenderness
the eyes go reconnoitering for what is pleasing to the heart
true love is born and as all lovers know
true love is perfect kindness

These days:
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine"
I have learned my lesson
"You got to hide your love away"

Free at last, Hallelujah!
My lust is dust
With out eros there is only death

disclaimer
this ain't about you

Post by **judih** » February 11th, 2006, 3:28 am

this is

what is true
is about me
about me and about it
about it all
it's all true
and all about me

it's all about me
and what is true
truth is
and frankly, i get in the way
cause
it's all about me
and what i can get away with
how much i can see
before again
it's all about me

me sneaks in to the truest truism
a moment, a second, it's true
and then
it's about me

again and again
i rise to the clarity of vision
and then me hops on
and we sink once more
into the me-ness
of me

it's about me
the strange tale of escape
comes back to me

Post by **stilltrucking** » February 11th, 2006, 7:12 am

it's about me
the strange tale of escape
comes back to me

no shit sherlock*

a wake call for me
as if the curtain has lifted
the vail parted
the glass is not dark
a parallel consciousness
has broke on through to the other side
and I can see clearly now
it is all about me
that is how it is for me
I knew that a couple months ago
but nothing like a good cough to drive a point home
It is all about me
How a man could be such a fool
To throw his life away
feeling sorry for himself

no duets for me sister judih
but that is ok
I would would much rather breathe
I got no sex energy left to play with
I feel as grateful as a woman who has passed through menopause
I am happy that is over with.
But I still stop and smell the roses
Call it flower power.
With out eros there is only death
Her willingness restoreth my will to live
I suppose you could call her my Beatrice

*Read text for clarity
not a flame
maybe I should have used Indigo
it suits my mood better.

on a personal note
there it is again
read for red.
know for no
write for right
sight for site
do I see a pattern here?
Yes. My brain is melting.

Post by **jimboloco** » February 11th, 2006, 7:20 pm

is nought about
thee
or me
iz what sets free
so they say

Post by **stilltrucking** » February 11th, 2006, 11:09 pm

iz what sets free

Step in the grave
Stepping out of birth
A dance is born

Artman

Six
Phenomenological ramble
the observer changes what he observes.
I feel like Schroedingers cat
Am I dead yet?

Post by **jimboloco** » February 12th, 2006, 8:05 am

Tapasya

The simplest and most direct type of renunciation is just give up the satisfying of ones desires. If one preoccupied with eating, just fast and so on. This tapasya. If for the sake of attaining a definite aim or to gain control of your self, one struggles with the desires that hinder him in his path, he will create a fire that will gradually transform his inner world into a single whole.

i smoked a bowl
a little bowl mind you
coffee and cats
black jeanz
black scrub
and other layerz underneath
and white sox and b&w hat
hi ho hi ho
itz off to zen i go!!!!!1

thatz a kittykat 1
onward thru th fawg
when i get up i
like to stumble in the dark
for awhilezto
see what i can an uze
m other sensoriez
no eyes no ears no nose no mouth no body no mind
no colorz no soundz no smellz no taste no touch no realm of mind
and so forth we sallie,,,,,,,,
adrift in th sargazzo zee
all drezzed up an nowherez ta go!

Post by **stilltrucking** » February 12th, 2006, 8:50 am

kitty kat in fog

image flashes to mind

better than the one I saw
a pile of dead cats with maggots
I been thinking about getting a gun
My neighbor Glynda the white witch is a real cat fancier
Never neuters her cats
They keep on on breeding
A picture in the paper
A pile of dead animals stacked up like firewood behind the pound
I wonder if I should just shoot her cats
Everytime she gets another one
Just sneak out in the middle of the night and kill it.
A mercy killing
Not really
But I am trying not to hate her
Not her fault
Just karma I suppose
_______________________

________
Why Log Truck Drivers Rise
Earlier Than Students Of Zen

In the high seat, before-dawn dark,
Polished hubs gleam
And the shiny diesel stack
Warms and flutters
Up the Tyler Road grade
To the logging on Poorman creek.
Thirty miles of dust.
There is no other life.
Gary Snyder

Post by **Diana Moon Glampers** » February 12th, 2006, 9:38 am

Outside, I point to a wasted NVA hanging in the wire. "War is serious business, son, and this is our gross national product." I kick the corpse, triggering panic in the maggots in the hollow eye sockets and in the grinning mouth and in each of the bullet holes in his chest.

http://www.gustavhasford.com/

Sorry I got a head full of nightmare images this morning. My head hurts. I almost cried when I heard Gustav died. You might as well call it a suicide. Diabetic drinking as much beer as he did. Enjoy your bowl of tea old friend. I wish I could join you. One of these days I am going to figure out how to brew myself a nice glass of green tea. I was a maryholic. Could not stop until it was gone. Jitterbug and his wife can make a ¼ oz last a month.

Sorry about the user name. I feel like her this morning. Just too dumb to live. Mysafe place for twenty years was the cab of a truck. Lost that found litkicks. Studio EIght the safest place for me. Going to sit now.

Post by **jimboloco** » February 12th, 2006, 12:52 pm

http://www.gustavhasford.com/home.htm

thanks! the homeboy's home page
my friend robert mclane is still trucking
he recently back from mexico
stayed over at kinky friedman'z rancho
passed home thru Shrevezport on hiz way to NYC
for his book publishment

thanks for he lead
belly

snyder's poem ain't about satori
iis about taking the path
an being on it
as all
sojournerz
frightmares

nice poem thankz
living in a grass hut
dogen

Post by **stilltrucking** » February 13th, 2006, 9:23 am

I never saw a fright mare
I suppose I am a fortunate sun
I fucked a black widow spider once
it was a lot of fun
but then I drifted off into a bliss full state
and forgot about the woman thing on the other end of my penis
and she paid a terrible price for my careless love

when I first saw your nightmare drawing I did not feel your fear
I remember the story of that night
the first time for you
the time you decided to make your stand
For me when I look at the drawing
I feel the tender indifference of the universe (camus)

satori don't mean nothing to me
I forgot what it means
I have looked it up a few times but I forgot
How about simple happiness
I was happy in my truck
and the sound of 18 wheels singing home sweet home
was theOM sound to me

I am not trying to become a Buddhist Jimbo, just practicing my last breath so I can figure out how to stay dead

Post by **Diana Moon Glampers** » February 14th, 2006, 5:28 am

Eight

Fearless heart

I wonder why someone would use a user name like tet_offensive if they had never been in Viet Nam.?

You can buy a hat in any truck stop that says Viet Nam veteran. Nobody ask you to see your discharge papers.

I wanted to go and do my patriotic duty but I was too crazy they told me. And I am sure they were right

But I think I could have made a good chaplain’s assistant. With my knobby little pencil stub.

Billy Pilgrim has nothing on me. There is his prison camp with his German made bar of ghostly translucent soap.

I would certainly have become a Zen Buddhist if I have had to deal with the after images you have.

But I have hardly known death at all. But I can feel the real deal when I see it.

He was a big old boy. Bitching and moaning cause dispatch had screwed up his advance for a motel room and he was going to have to seep in his truck. Big old boy with a beard and a hat. I asked him how much he needed for a room. He said thirty-seven dollars. I gave him thirty-seven dollars. He may have been a veteran in the Viet Nam era, but I bet you a dollar to a donut he never left New Jersey. In the rear with the gear. One of them pogues that Private Joker detested. Like Pat Robertson running for President claiming to be a marine corps combat veteran.

Rest in peace Gustav

Post by **jimboloco** » February 22nd, 2006, 12:15 pm

I am not trying to become a Buddhist Jimbo, just practicing my last breath so I can figure out how to stay dead

a guy who was chaplain's assistant in Iraq now speaking out. Think I lost the link, but it is a true story. here tis, had to search thru the trash.

http://www.news-gazette.com/news/2006/0 ... ut_against

Post by **stilltrucking** » February 22nd, 2006, 1:21 pm

Jimboloco all I can do is reach for a cigarette and think about death.

This is our president. He stands at the wailing wall and prays to his patriarchial god to keep america safe from such a fate. And Cindy Sheehan wants Israel out of Palestine too. Seems like a lot to ask. Can we just fucking get america out of iraq.

And me I am a got dam wicked self hating fucking jew

You been sleeping ok jim?

I had a dream about the woman at the well, and the way Heyseuse knew how many husbands she had.

edit one time
deleted a line cause I felt like it.

Post by **firsty** » February 23rd, 2006, 12:16 pm

taste death on old trains
i get it where i got it
and frustrating minds adrift and flipped through croaking lifeforms
got crushed by heads
two balloons too
from dreams
and johnny cash lyrics
and masters of allusion
my phone light blinks
i cancelled my life insurance
when the broker left a msg on my voicemail
at 2:36 pm nine-eleven-two-thousand-1
too much death thought
not enough life thought
i want more life thought
i want to run to life
i want to have to shield my eyes from bright of life
i want to smell life
i want my back to ache from pain of life
i want my heart to break from love of life
i want my mind to shake from jolt of life
i want my kids to speak to soul of life
i have a stone between my toes
mustering glistening pain
long legs
sharp eyes
oo
oo
i'm on fire.

Post by **ButtercupNutSwirlz** » February 23rd, 2006, 5:09 pm

Jesus, firsty, what a go! what a helluva fine go!

i want to run to life
i want to have to shield my eyes from bright of life
i want to smell life
i want my back to ache from pain of life
i want my heart to break from love of life
i want my mind to shake from jolt of life
i want my kids to speak to soul of life

ahhhhhhh, how sweet it is! every fine line of it.

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Monologue 2

Monologue 2

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