Glow

Glow

is the word i want to, write, right

I'll leave it,

There

let it lie

for a while

pass it by

its a trial.

Not only a word.

It wont die.

I'm an idiot

Thoughts wont suffice

What about the monkey playing an instrument...

ANY

Well, not xylophone,

or the cymbals

What about the monkey playing an old piano

The monkey wears a red army officer costume

The type with shiny gold buttons, ya know.

A white collar fastened, chimpish hands exhume,

the graves of wanton lands

You could easily burn it all

Monkey and all

make it

Glow

Varanasi

The hot night has fallen 
its the only thing to fall
All around everything is rising. 
On the banks of the Ganges, silent souls levitate 
rising_with the_sounds
Cymbals announce the dawn of enlightenment and 
keep_religious_rhythm.

Noise hovers expectantly
Music written for holy reasons
The same reasons that pull chants from the mouths of
hypnotised hearts.
heavy hearts, like mine, ebb through the pulsing light
akin with the lethargic Ganges, sweaty and lonely.
But as I sit,
Heart
In
Mouth
For holy reasons
I am lifted up,
rising
floating
like the flickering _ light of candles being safely carried
by the no-longer-lonely-Ganges
That now shimmers to those holy sounds
Beautiful colours of light,
en-light-en-meant
light pulled from the eyes of those silent souls and hypnotised hearts
that line the auditorium steps of the Bu-ja banks.
The morning rises,
to the sound of chants pulled
from the holy mouths of those washing in the
never-lonely-Ganges.

Autumn Point

The air is crisp tonight

The sky contorts its beaming face

For the last hours of light

I wait,

Glowing leaves levitate,
  litter the ground.
Rain drops hesitate,
  suspended sound.

I can't get no education

Sacred transmission of information. 
Potent pools of knowledge pour through wires into oblivion,
colours 
the names of birds 
dates and types of fruit 
the names of things we believe to be true. 
The people have gone

Without each other,

Its thousands of flickering lives
arranged in documents and
files.

School is not a place
Everywhere is not my classroom
i shout and sing
but no one hears each other any more
i shout this song

we cant get no education
we cant see for all the words
we don’t need no elocution
Or patience to suffer nerds

we wont get no education
we wont see, sense and shout
we dont apply a situation
erudition now akin with lout

we cant get no education
still we yearn to gaze, engage
we dont have it, interaction
Plugged into this sullen haze

As i shout and sing
the humming teachers glare,
these sweaty palms.
The sun pulls us to tomorrow
Where I need info validation.
Where learning is regurgitation.

seeking is finding

There is knowledge in the trees
 and there is time on your knees
 But what is it really
 What is it really?

 There are connections we create
 It’s the bud and the slate
 Do we _ see clearly?
 You claim to see clearly?

 There’s the bludgeoned mantra
 Or the pious pursuit of tantra
 Are we chasing it queerly?
 Are we chasing it queerly?

 The seeking _ is finding
 The truth of love is binding
 We are finding it nearly
 We are finding it nearly

 There is reason in our enlightened history
 But idols miss the embrace of a mystery
 It’s given us freely?
 Given us freely