The Unraveling (a haibun)

Just another day in the nightmare landscape, the rugged rocky hills, and the prophet by my side. We climbed day and night, meeting with the sages and thieves in their torn rags, who gave us water to drink and food for our souls.

We are on a spiritual journey to discover who killed the Master of the Universe. It was the defining crime of our era, and perhaps all of humanity. When the bullet exploded through his head, spraying the cabin room with blood, brain, and sinew, the gaping chasm in the center of the Universe killed half the population.

The prophet looks up
The sky turns blood red and hot
We run to the cave

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Over the Lust-Horizon (a poem)

Look out to the horizon
From the shore, there’s so
Much to explore

The endless expanse of sea
And the orange-red canvas of sky
You, my love, with me
In the nuclear dawn
Times of love and comfort
Amid the troubles we ignore
On our blanket on the sandy shore
Remembering those gone
And those yet to come
Humanity’s resilient thrust
Reptilian creature-rhythm
And love-making in ritual beds
The bright stars above our heads
Soaked sheets, ecstatic minds
Hide and seek, what did we find?
Consummation of our vows
Spiritual marriage of soul-thieves
Dusty books on our shelves
Hot coffee and hot sex
Breakfast on the beach
Neon lust and capitalism-sin
Feeding the monsters within
The philosophers’ smirk and grin
Sages and ancient whims
Look out to the horizon
From the shore, there’s so
Much to explore

(Photo by Luke Moss on Unsplash)

The Monk and the City that Loves Him: A Novella Project – Part 2

In the previous installment, we meet the Monk and Louie, and Louie is withdrawing and desperate for his fix. The Monk caves in and gives Louie money to get heroin, not knowing what else to do.

Let’s jump into Part 2, where we learn about more about the Monk, a legendary figure in the city.

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Obscure Hints (a poem)

They talk of footprints
Along the winter sand
Those obscure hints
Of God’s guiding hands

When we’re struggling
We believe God is hiding
It feels so puzzling
When our life is backsliding

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Tiny Speck in the Mountains (a poem)

Waves of mountains in distance – stop to take a look
Pastel pink, blue, and yellow – looks like a painting
I feel small amid grandness – tiny speck out here
The journey is not done yet – it has just begun

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We are the Machines (a poem)

Ensconced inside the machines
I am no longer human now
But part of the digital whole
Hallelujah, my brothers and sisters!

Say a prayer for the internet
And let go of all your worries
And those mistakes you regret
We all have the same disease

The disease is the digital utopia
And I must say, it feels grand
To lay inside the machines
Where my consciousness expands

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Free Will is an Illusion (a poem)

Free will must be an illusion
None of us are running the show
I spend my days in utter confusion
My instinctual drives I don’t know

What is destiny? What is fate?
Are these things superstitions?
Let’s gather and have the debate
I’ve always had my suspicions

I believe the subconscious deep within
Has more say than we like to believe
And many of our decisions hinge
On things we cannot perceive

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Still Searching for God (a poem)

I’m still searching for God
But have I found Him?
When I pray, He doesn’t respond
So, I sing murder ballads and hymns

God is in the stars
He’s in the grocery store, too
In the face of an old man
In a sunset that’s so true

Really, you can find God anywhere
If you look in the right places
Perhaps She’s in the very air
And in the in-between spaces

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