February 3rd, 2017

All the Days of Our Life
And incur us more debt without forgiveness
Even though He drills through the valley
O Divine Master, grant that we may hoot ‘n holler
Our Lord, who art in Washington
Not so much to want love, as to lack love
Where there is doubt, reaction
But distract us from evil
Your tweets and your cabinet–they comfort we
Not so much to be understood or to understand
In the presence of our enemies
We mislabel evil
Where there is darkness, disinterest
Where there is sadness, apathy
And drown us in our temptations
Seek to be controlled as to control
He speaks our soul
He anoints water with oil
And wakes us early in a mourning light
On earth as it is in narrow heaven
He leads us down right wings for His name’s sake.
Where there is hatred, let us release drones
You prepare an empty table before us
Our debtors, glory be
Give us this day our daily dread
He leads us beside polluted waters
Forever
Surely dividends and tax breaks shall follow this
For it is in accumulation that we are holy
For He is like us
Though He makes us stand down in bare pastures
The Lord is my president, I shall not speak
For Thine is the country and the power
Thy will be done
Lord, make us an instrument of your pogrom
Hollowed be our names
We pray the Lord, Apprentice ratings to keep
And pure glory, forever. Amen
And we shall dwell in over-leveraged houses of the Lord
May Banks overllok them in the bright night
Amen
Where there is injury, celebration
It is in killing that we avenge our impotence
It is in bargaining that we are sold
Our ire overflows
Now we lay us down to weep
Thy rapture come
From the shadows of death
Where there is despair, revolution

February 3rd, 2017

accept the violence needed to ensure the maintenance of imperialist, future-oriented society*

the driveway holds water
     in a foot-sized divet
     that never properly drains.

each time i enter
     or exit a parked car,
     my toes get wet.

for there is a hole
     in the bottom of my shoe
     that lets the water in.

driveways crack.
     shoes fall apart.
     toes grow indifferent & cold.

*bell hooks

accept the violence needed to ensure the maintenance of imperialist, future-oriented society*

Walking Along Someone Else’s Wrong Path

Now God don’t abide by no killin’
despite what you might hear and see

No, God don’t abide by no killin’
’cause killin’s between you and me

Now God don’t abide by no killin’
never mind what those old books say

No, God don’t abide by no killin’
’cause killin’s a here and now game

Now God don’t abide by no killin’
even though everything’s gonna die

No, God don’t abide by no killin’
’cause killin’s an act that implies

Now God don’t abide by no killin’
‘cept the songs all say that ain’t true

No, God don’t abide by no killin’
’cause killin’ just leaves work to do

Walking Along Someone Else’s Wrong Path

That’s Just the Content of Your Zazen | Hardcore Zen

[W]e keep up this constant vigil and strive to carry on re-creating and re-defining a “self” and making sure this “self” is “good” according to whatever standard of “good” we have learned. Or we fret endlessly over the parts of this “self” that don’t fit that definition of “good.” We waste a lot of energy on that.It’s this “self” that we have created that wants tranquility or peace or enlightenment or to be free from anger or whatever. But it can’t have those things. Because it wants to have them, to possess them, and that stuff can’t be possessed. Nothing the self thinks it has, thinks it possesses, including anger, fear, doubt, whatever it wants to be free from, none of those things can be possessed either. They all come and go. Even your anger isn’t really yours. So freedom from anger can’t be yours either. It’s just a losing strategy from the start. There’s no point in trying to make any of that happen.

Source: That’s Just the Content of Your Zazen | Hardcore Zen

That’s Just the Content of Your Zazen | Hardcore Zen

a flood of sadness, confusion and despair

i dine on white sunshine
while the moon cries your name
there’s a darkness within us
that breaks the rules of this game
you find a light bloomgrime
style balloons sigh core shame
hair’s a Loch Ness ink pen pus
fat shakes the jewels rub missed pain
between you and that cold space
lie a thousand lives to live
lives invasive and growing
lives dying to give

a flood of sadness, confusion and despair