The Wall

Sitting. Eyes on wall.


Noticing the cracked green paint. The black ant crawling across my field of vision.

And the wall said, Watchyu lookin’ at?

I didn’t respond, just let the question be.

I would’ve painted this thing blue.

And the wall repeated, Watchyu lookin’ at?

The question hovered like a blazing shiver.

I could make out a lotus among the cracked patterns.

Then the wall bellowed, I said, watchyu lookin’…

It was then I realized it wasn’t the wall questioning. I was projecting—it was me all along.

Then Huang Po said in a pastel voice, The perceived cannot perceive.

Those four words fell like an ax.


Corny New Age Recipe

Mélange of a Mirage

1 cup hot tears

1 ½ teaspoons love

1 ½ teaspoons hypocrisy

1 cup angry words

½ cup laughter

¼ cup pessimism

1 dream; beaten

3 cups thought

sprinkle of worry

  • Pour hot tears over love, hypocrisy, and angry words until dissolved.
  • Once cool, add in the laughter dissolved in pessimism.
  • Gradually fold in the beaten dream and thought.
  • Sprinkle this mixture with worry and knead viciously.
  • Cover and set in a warm stuffy dark place in the brain to double in bulk.
  • Once doubled, yell and punch the stuff down then divide it into 3 equal parts.
  • Roll the pieces over and over in your mind until you have 3 long strands.
  • Carefully twist those strands into a tight braid and scream.
  • Brush the top with another beaten dream of your choice.
  • [Optional] Sprinkle with seeds of worry or hope.
  • Bake in the hothouse of memory and Viola –Mélange of a Mirage!

Tasty, voluptuous, gorgeous, divine! Enjoy with a strict glass of wine!

[You can experiment and change the taste, fragrance and texture; for example, instead of 1 cup of angry words, you can make it 2 or add 4 beaten dreams instead of 1. In the end, it all comes out the same—a lovely Melange of a Mirage!]

Bon appetite!

Guru’s Mantra Part II

I got something you don’t got

I got something you don’t got


But for the incredibly low low price of $9.99

You can have it too!!!

Send cash, check, or money order

And find yourself walking on fluffy pastel glowing clouds

Enter that awareness of peacefulness of awareness of peacefulness

You will be as million sparkling golden sands of the Ganges

Strewn across the milky way

Be filled with infinite peace and light

Most of all, you will be Happy!

Even if your house is foreclosed

Or you lose your job

You will be without a care in the world

If you don’t feel the opioid pull of your flowery state of mind

There’s a money-back guarantee

Send in your proof-of-purchase along with a statement signed by your psychotherapist describing your mad depressions and angers

Don’t delay

Act now and in addition to instruction handed down from my master’s master’s master’s master, get my fast-acting Mantra

Absolutely FREE!


Soliloquy of a Searcher

I’m not supposed to have thoughts—especially negative ones. Where’s the gaps of nothingness between my thoughts? So tightly packed together like a Lego® jigsaw. Or maybe I’m just not aware enough? I yelled. That’s a memory. No, it’s a thought. But it’s a memory. Is it okay to have a memory? But if it’s a thought…I’m not supposed to have thoughts. I shouldn’t have yelled at her. But I did. She yelled back. And I yelled louder and redder. I’m not supposed to be angry. Is anger a thought or emotion? But emotion is a thought, right? But I was angry. I tried to follow my breath just like I do when I’m sitting in meditation and everything is so calm and glorious. Angry thoughts were too crowded. I shouldn’t have slapped her. But I did. She took the parking spot I had been waiting for. What the @#!!! When I yelled at her, she popped an umbrella open in my rainsoaked face and yelled back. She proceeded to the store. Then I yelled and SLAP. Instantly I said I’m sorry. She slapped back and knocked all the crazy-glued thoughts outta me. For a split second of a split second of a split second of a split second of a split second there was nothing. NOTHING. It was a big as day in that split of a split. I wanna BE that nothing-blissful-spaciousness. But now am thought-crammed. I’m not supposed to have thoughts—especially negative ones…


A Hail Mary is like a mantra is like a deck of Tarot cards is like creative visualization is like numerology is like past life regression is like astrology is like chakra balancing is like crystal readings is like channeling and other pursuits spawned by hope. Hope comes with its own song and dance, of course. Hopes are like snowflakes—no two hopeflakes are alike. Yes, hope is a happy hologram! And yet, there’s no place like hope. But I digress…

Ah, hope, that shiny bar of soap that lathers away anxieties, fears and anger and all sorts of miscellaneous shifting splinters of the mind. In the end it’s all smoke and mirrors. And nothing really changes after whichever ritual is performed, even though a warm syrupy blanket embalms what you think is “you.”

But hey, nothing wrong with a Hail Mary or a mantra. If it makes life an absolute bouquet of fragrant sexy roses…it just happens. But roses soon fade and will have to be replaced again, and again…


Dear Reader,

Unseen forces brought you to this page.

Really, it was your clicking got you here… well, even that’s not truly true. Your greedy seeking brought you here. Don’t take it personal because there’s no “you” and nothing can belong to you, not even your greedy seeking. Ain’t that hilarious? But if you wanna feel “real”- take offense, feel the fullness of repugnancy at the cellular levels and let it radiate through your body so that your ego inflates like a big fat red party balloon—BE HERE NOW. POP!!!

You want something to change. There’s gotta be something more than this. You sick and tired of being with your sick and tired self or your sick and tired whatever. But you look at me like I’m mad—no no no and no! This can’t be it—there’s gotta be more. Where’s the rose petals and tranquil glittery clouds? Where’s the chorus of angelic beings singing in neon voices? Where’s the soft and fluffy stillness, the infinite spaciousness, the new job, lottery jackpot???

Have a double martini and you just might start hearing those neon voices and feeling way more space than usual. You might even start feeling lucky!

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