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The thinkers and the doers are being trampled by the sheep
Who stampede to the slaughterhouse with righteous surety
For the danger’s not the butcher, it’s he who warns them of their fate
And no one is hated more than he who causes the sleepwalkers to awake


So perhaps I should lay down my pen
Lay down my head
And cry awhile
This curse of vision will make you insane I fear


The pontiff and the president dance slowly in the dark
They whisper their sweet promises of death till do us part
They go to the doctor of psychiatry to cure their co-dependency
He says for a marriage of convenience there can never be divorce


So turn down your cannons
Lay down your cross
I can no longer tell these things apart
And all lovers must consubstantiate



I stood at my mother’s gravesite with a hammer in my hand
I stole sawdust from the sawmill and threw a flame into the wind
I walked a noble savage through the Wal-Mart until he fell upon his knees
I gave shelter to a rich man, the poor child I showed the door


Cause freedom is as freedom does
And let no man be the wiser here
The shackles of the breadline make each man bow his head down low


I walked through the orchard down in Eden but my stomach it was full
I met a woman named Athena with her children by her side
I took her to the alter, made her my bride and then my wife
I abandoned her in Portland but I guess it was alright


I laid down my hat
I laid down my gun
I don’t have the will to run no more
And this gift of gab will make you a monster I am told


Jesus sat down at my table and took a Camel from his smock
He lit it with a burning bush and with a smirk he said
Sometimes a soul can be so shrunken that the eye of a needle isn’t small
And these days inheriting the Earth doesn’t seem such a good offer after all


I poured him a drink
He gave me a wink
We made a toast to the wind, the sky, prostitutes and vagabonds
We’re all God’s children after all he said

I walked into the hospital and told the nurse to medicate
She looked into my eyes and said my ailment it was plain
But the witchdoctor and the voodoo priest were on the golf course for the day
Then she lifted up her skirt and cradled my head upon her breast
She asked if my insurance would cover this and pay


She showed me the light
She showed me the sea
Show showed me re-runs on her cable TV
Sometime blood is thinner than the air we breathe

Now the sheep are in a frenzy, they smell the prophet in the wind
The run to the farmer for protection, behind the chopping block they hide
But the prophet he is weary, he’s been stoned too many times
And when the sheep they get their hackles up to protect conformity
Even the wolf will run for shelter in the forest dark and wild


I’ll lay down my heart
I’ll lay down in my grave and die awhile
This gift of vision makes you a pariah to the plebeians

Iraqi Massacre

Reports are starting to turn up in the news of a massacre in Iraq. A group of US soldiers went on a rampage when one of their friends was killed by a roadside bomb. The Americans slaughtered between 24 and 30 people, including women and children. Another soldier who had to clean up the mess described how he was carrying a little girl in his arms who had been shot by our soldiers and her brains fell out onto his boots.

Now was can make ourselves feel better by excusing these murders as the work of a few people who simply lost their minds, but in the big picture, everything that has happened in the Middle East in the last 50 years; the two Iraq wars, Afghanistan, Iran, Saudia Arabia, the birth of Al Queda and 9/11, all were caused at least in part by our need for oil. If there was no oil, we would never be there. The Middle East would be ignored like Africa.

In the end it’s all so we can drive our cars, live our comfortable lives, and enjoy the greatest material abundance ever known to mankind. We all bear the guilt of these murders. I supported the war so I certainly include myself among the guilty. But either way, the killing of innocent people will go on until we find an alternative to oil.

5/28/06

Last night I went to the Angelika to see the movie Water. It’s about a girl in India who is married at seven years old. Although she lives with her family and has no contact with the husband, when she is nine years old the husband dies. At nine she is a widow and must spend the rest of her life separated from society and living in poverty with other widows. She can never remarry or lead a life outside of the widow’s house.

Near the end of the movie Mahatma Gandhi makes an appearance. He says “I used to believe God is truth, now I believe truth is God.” I don’t know if this is really a quote from Gandhi, but it is an amazing and powerful statement. It is an idea that if followed by religious leaders would end so much strife and hate.

Afterwards I went to dinner at an Italian place in the West Village, right off Bleeker. We sat at a table on the sidewalk so we could watch the people strolling by. Later we walked around the village enjoying the warm weather. I have so many memories in that part of town. I think I have spent time there with every woman I have ever been involved with. The place is full of ghosts.

Y

5/10/06

I feel spiritually dead. I have no will to fight. I decided I should do some journal writing to try to get in touch with myself.

I am sitting in the park as a cold breeze blows over me. The sky is gray. I keep waiting for a good stretch of warm weather to come, but it hasn’t happened. I really don’t want to live in a cold climate anymore.

I am just plain in a low groove. Everything is down, physically, mentally, spiritually. I live each day with my tail between my legs.

This morning I awoke to find a nice email from a woman on myspace. It said, “Intelligent is sexy. You are beautiful. I hope you are doing something with that smile.”

I was such a nice way to start the morning. Much nicer than the hate mail I often awake to. And from a pretty stranger, makes it even nicer.

I want so much to just get in the car and drive. Play guitar on street corners and sell CDs for food money. My feelings these days remind me of how I felt in the days before I threw it all away in the early 90s. I have to struggle to stay and struggle to keep my head above water each day.

This could be a very creative time. I am in the exact opposite place of where I need to be, which is aggressive and business minded.

Even as I sit here I can feel myself fading out of this world. As I gaze around me at the trees and playground and empty factories, satori takes me. The concepts that filter our vision dissolve and I see raw objects. The strangeness of nature obscured by 90-degree angles and straight lines. Nature’s soothing chaos painted 3D over the crumbling order of the manmade environment.

The pigeons march aimless around me, in a never-ending search for food. This morning they seem as will-less as I do. Going through the motions because that’s what pigeons do.