the zeitgeist of right now
the zeitgeist of right now who?
You tell me.
We grow into
ourselves when we grow to see ourselves
in this mirror reality so clearly
without false lighting or makeup
to light up our beauty
while hiding our scars
and now how do we look?
Like Frankenstein after under the scalpel
of Europe’s best plastic surgeon?
You tell me.
history books turn history into pornography
only good Samaritans will turn their backs to
reality begging to be fantasy
on the side of the street Kennedy died
one shooter one magic bullet
the cheat-sheet version of history
that the assassination of The Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand
triggered World War One
without any sense of sex, philosophy, nationality, or sense
of the box of wet dynamite that Europe slept on in 1914
to believe one bullet could inspire billions more
is to ignore
all the bullets, promises and whores that came before
Science didn’t fall out of the blue
just like the blue didn’t fall out of science
giving birth to the big bang bloom
rooted in this
evolution of emotion
it doesn’t have to be the work of alchemists or poets
a madman who believes in God
a God who believes in a madman
it could simply be
that this is how we are meant to see
that this globe is upside down
the North Pole
and what do we know
when we throw seeds to the breeze to sow
so many fly back to dead soil
like broken souls
The Bible was inspired by God
The Quran was inspired by God
Nancy Drew was inspired by God.
What if every book was inspired by God
even and especially the bad ones
cause God’s got infinite taste in literature
so some books come off as self-help
and others read as fantasy
while one is entitled The New Testament
and the other
and other books are put in the cookbook aisle.
The first word ever spoken
is the key to describe us all
and whatever you think it was
says everything about you.
I think it was ‘no’
which makes me sound like a pessimist
until you hear how I hear:
I scream before you step off a cliff
or into a streak of tigers.
screams there’s hope
you won’t get ripped apart
by these starving cats
cause I can still save you with one
You never get over your first birth
or your last breath
and I’m speaking from experience
as a Hindu
do you think
I’ve never done this before?
I dance like Shiva.
This is all old hat
and new shoes
and all this while this old soul flows
and the next thing I know
I’m writing a new poem
about an old life
and the only way I can puncture this wheel of dharma with a knife
is to stop writing.
Last night this morning
(when is it 4 a.m. anyhow?)
I dream in thin streams of realities
of these fantasies
membranes between dreams and reality
dissolve at dawn
with the curtains drawn
I sneak through Shanghai
a city I’ve never been through
though I am free
to see it any way I fancy
in my sleep
deep in believing
I know where I’m going
the unholy virtue
especially when you’re not
never asking directions
even when lost
and this dream I awoke to
dreaming of me sleeping
atop the tower in Shanghai
a city I’ve never set foot in
but I’ve seen pictures
my subconscious can take care of the rest
and there I am eating dim sum
dishes I’ve never tasted
and they all taste delicious
and then my alarm goes off.
I hate my alarm.
How many memories has it assassinated
never letting those dreams breathe
we water the flower of lunacy
whose roots choke the roots of reality
and those moments in Shanghai are this poem
and this poem is the dream.
My new book, Channelsurfing is now out. In the future when everyone has their own reality show, Tom Sears fights not to famous. But, the cameras in his head expose his dreams making it impossible for viewers to change the channel.