The Temple of a Thousand Buddhas

On the first day of summer,
In the Temple of a Thousand Buddhas,
You turned and said to me;
“Your smile is a blessing to my heart”
That was long ago, but I’m smiling still.

.

Coydogs

Do you see those ferals over there? They are my murder squad and that’s my blood on their sandals. They must have gotten my number from some old directory, because I’m unlisted now.

They came to chasten me for some mythic infraction in the by gone, but it’s never too late to deliver bad news. Apparently I had robbed some whore to feed some bitch. I can’t recall the details; they were pretty inchoate with their charges.

I was all negotiable, but they were not. We reached an accommodation where I shut the fuck up in exchange for a kicking. However, I take succour from the knowledge that they will one day turn on the hand that now feeds them.

.

Panthers

the sickly hours draw near       I’ve been out on the prowl     feasting with panthers      and laying with the low        life bleeds out from my promiscuous regions     my seed, the gift of our benefactor      was spilled on vulgar ground      a menagerie of brightly polished fossils     perched four and twenty deep on a blackened bow      each was perfectly honed       to provide the keen edges a boy could shred his soul on

 

there’s a laboratory in my mind       where pornographic experimentations are crudely coupled with shameful memories     so I make meat in wee small hours to feed the fire that burns in my loins     ever the same incessant pounding of a thousand heartbeats      a tide of lovers float into memory      people like us know what we’re doing       people like us have rapacious hearts

Puppets

I may exaggerate
from time to time
stretch the truth a little
for the sake of the narrative
but there’s no soup here
and no side story
what you see
you might not get
just ask Yo Yo and Psycho Sue
everybody knows my name
even if they can’t place the face
you dummied up nice
but you don’t listen so good
I don’t hold any papers
and I never did
back in the once upon a time
I gave the world a little distance
just enough space to think straight
I have demons to contend with
but I can stand their scrutiny
if they can stand mine
everyone is tyrannised by something
fear is the prime motivator
name that fear
and you name the man
.

Modern Romance

no-one gets their jollies on the night shift

unless they’re sniffing boot polish

or drinking the windolene

there’s a lot of it about

some like to spank monkeys

while others drag the low end

trawling for the mantovani

but it’s sometimes hard to tell

cats from dogs in the virtual

and often a suspect package

is mistaken for exotic booty

in some sort of synthetic romance

only the lonely care to understand

.

Cockroach God

Skid row junkies shuffle dance like broken bears. They smile spoiled milk and stink of stale sweat and rotted flesh. The zombie nation has risen. Semi stiff cardboard men – flaccid humanity face down in the gutter. Hostile corners teem with cockroach people - knives half shut with disgraceful wings. Blood is brown clotted on the lips of scarecrow men with hair on fire. Three overcoats wrapped around breathless bodies. Dull drunk and frenzied sober faces searching for significance - thirsty souls on a death mission. Every bindle stiff who can lift his lids eyes you up for the short prize
“Can you spare some change… “
And why are you here?
Morbid curiosity?
Perversion?
Did you get lost?
Are you passing through, or have you joined the congregation of the cockroach god?
.

Higher Ground

I telt ye - I seen him with my own good eye. Scarecrow was down the knacker’s yard with his Doberman pincher and his King James. He was preaching fae Revelations and he says; “Take a butchers…” and I seen it was all maggots inside. I widnae listen after that. No tae nae maggot book I widnae.

I left his company with his maggots crawling through ma brain. He cursed mankind in his many tongues, pure psychiatric it was.

"But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderous and the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars – they will be consigned to the fire. This is the final death - from which there’s nae return"

They tell me that fear is our first and last teacher. Scarecrow puts the fear of God in me. No the God of Jesus – love an’ forgiveness an’ that, but the God o’ Moses in the auld book. He’s a wicked bastard that one – the God of retribution and judgements. Scarecrow has a bead oan him – that blind and cruel God of auld. Repent or perish he says – I will see tae that. Hate thy neighbour and loathe thy self – for you are unclean in the eyes of God. Aye, I walked away, but my eyes were full of maggots and my ears were full of stones.

That night I dreamed that I did battle wi some lesser angels for possession of my soul, but they said they had me bang tae rights, so I bargained for clemency. I heard a man proclaim that he fed the poor and cured the lame and I could do it too, but only in his name. Then I heard the same dude say “In the presence of the infinite there is only ever now”. That sounded right to me. I wish he’d come around an’ give me a leg up tae place my feet oan that higher ground.

.

Snakes and Ladders

another merciless dawn
has fused my metaphoricals
and shrunk my knackers
for the specimen jar
labelled ‘P S Y C I A T R I C’
.
I cast a pretty thin shadow
in the every now and then
but that’s my modus operandi
wax and wane, ebb and flow
but there are more snakes
than ladders
in my playground
.

Gummy Bears

Buddha had started to resemble his namesake. He had grown fat – positively rotund. Thirty odd years of tweaking had made him thin as a rake, but when he gave it up he blossomed into a beach ball. He’d had a triple bypass. Three decades of amphetamine abuse had taken its toll on his heart. He no longer partook of the old whizz. He no longer smoked – anything. He did, however, find other diversions.

“I’ve seen the future Johnny Boy and it’s in edibles.”

“Inedibles?”

“Ha fuckin’ ha. You’ll see. Every cunt will be doin’ it. Nae mair noxious fumes and carcinogens; just pure THC delight.”

“Is that what’s in them?”

“Aye, that and all the other cannabinoids. You lose most of them when ye smoke it. This way it all reaches yer brain pan and it stays there much longer.”

“Is that them? They look like sweets.”

“They are sweets; pure hash oil preserved in gelatine. They even have different flavours.”

“What do you call them then?”

“These are gummy bears.”

“Strong?”

“There’s a quarter of a gram in each. That’s enough to get ye well stoned, but two of them will fuck you up nicely.”

“I’ll have two then.”

He was right. I was pretty fucked up. I had a strawberry and an orange. I could still taste the oil though. It clung to my teeth for a bit. It wasn’t long before Buddha proffered me two more. I wolfed them down with a cup of chai. Our conversation was rambling and silly. We giggled like school boys as we enthused over the records we played. The music sounded awesome. Buddha got all philosophical. He said his brush with mortality had affected his outlook.

“Did ye ever turn yer heid a certain way and catch a glimpse of the universe spinning round ye an’ suddenly realise that you are at the centre of it all?”

“Naw.”

“Well you should turn yer heid mair often then.”

“I think I feel that tee hee hee Buddha. I’m nearly trippin’.”

“Good innit?”

“Fuckin’ right.”

“Want another?”

“Fuckin’ right.”

I don’t know what time I eventually went to bed, but I woke up with the munchies. I tip toed past Buddha’s room – so as not to wake him up – and headed for the kitchen in search of biscuits. Buddha was right into that health food lark. There was all sorts in his cupboards; things like wheatgrass powder, blue algae and sphagnum moss. There were no biscuits, but I found a tray of chocolate brownies in the fridge. I scoffed three or four of the wee brownies with a glass of milk. It was only when I had finished my sugary repast that I tasted the by now familiar oily residue on my teeth. Shit, the brownies were some of Buddha’s ‘edibles’.

I tried to sleep, but was roused from my slumbers by a loud clanging – like the old fire engines made. It took me a moment to ascertain that the source was in my head. I was hallucinating wildly and could see luminous air molecules cavort and wriggle in the dark. Quite suddenly a Blueband margarine tub materialised in my head. I could see it, but can’t explain how, because it was inside my head. Then the margarine tub vibrated a little before flipping over onto its side. It wasn’t empty. Batman was in there and he sprang out to smashed my brain with a giant mallet. My whole body convulsed with the blow. Batman then settled back into the margarine tub and it flipped back onto its base. A moment later it happened again. Batman was giving my brain a proper pounding.

This went on for like two hundred years before Batman’s blows grew softer as he faded off and I found myself free falling through space towards the beautiful blue planet Earth. I was enjoying the view and the sensation of gently falling when I was joined by this guy who was also falling.

“I bring a message from your sponsor.” He said.

“I recognise you.” I said.

“You’re tuning into the wrong channel.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do.”

“Who are you?”

“You know me. You’ve always known me.”

“Go away.”

“Don’t you want to know?”

“Know what?”

“Why you are here?”

“Why am I here?”

“We sent for you.”

“Who are you?”

“Good question. Who do you think I am?”

“How would I know?”

“I’m a messenger.”

“Aye, you said.”

“I bring a message from your sponsor.”

“I’m tuning into the wrong channel.”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look within.”

I looked within. The whole universe was in there. I was in there too. Then he zapped me; twenty million volts coursed through me and everything that ever was followed. I understood it all. From the big bang to the end of time; it was all laid out before me. In the beginning were the words and the words were lights, camera, action! The whole show was specifically designed for me, for this moment. I turned my head a certain way and caught a glimpse of the universe turning around me. I was at the centre of everything and everything was at the centre of me. I couldn’t wait to tell Buddha.

“I saw Jesus!”

“Really?”

I explained the whole trip to him. I was calling it a vision. He laughed uproariously when I told him about the brownies. Apparently there was a lot of hash oil in the brownies. I told him about Batman and the message from my sponsor. I related the whole experience as best I could. There was much to tell – there was everything in my story. It was the story of everything.

“You’ve had a revelation Johnny, an epiphany.”

“I talked to Jesus.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Who else could it be?”

“Anybody.”

“It wasn’t just anybody. It was Jesus.”

“Did he say he was Jesus?”

“Naw, but I recognised him.”

“You’re making the classic mistake Johnny Boy. You’re focussed on the messenger, not the message.”

“What was the message?”

“Don’t ask me. It was your vision. It was your message.”

“I don’t know. There was so much. I saw everything.”

“That’s yer message then – everything. What else would it be?”

My vision haunted me for months. I was convinced I met Jesus. Buddha just laughed at that, but every time I thought about Jesus I cried. I wanted to talk to people about it. Buddha advised me not to. I admit I made an arse of myself a few times trying to convey everything to everybody. Eventually the immediacy of it faded and so did some of the details, but something special had happened to me. Buddha agreed with me there. He said I should meditate on it. He suggested I eat some more brownies since that seemed to be my spiritual catalyst. I declined. I simply was not ready for more of everything, but I had some more gummy bears just the same.

Green Mind

Roll me a fat one

My brand of choice

God’s own medicine

Something I can use

To feel the touch

Of a higher power

There is one great truth

There is one great lie

No contradictions here

I embrace them both

Within my green mind

.

Ferrets

I thought I’d made a friend

I made more than a friend

I made a fucking enemy

I wish she’d pack her bags

And return to her ferret factory

I don’t need the hassle

Of an extra arsehole

It’s hard enough

Managing my own

She made a scene

But I really don’t mind

I could still have her any time

.

mumbo jumbo

I got the hee haw

from your mumbo jumbo

you’re using words

you don’t understand

you like to pose as a holy roller

but I saw you sneaking home

with your knickers in your bag

hypocrisy is the mother of corruption

and prejudice is her favoured child

but you can afford it

after all it cost you nothing

but your self respect

and mine

.