 |
| JD Kruger, Owner, GLP4 |
A
song of selfhood
Discriminate
your taste
Make
you lover chase
Be
guided with patience, do not make haste
And
whatever you do, do not waste –
There
will be time to murder and create
Those
I love and those I hate
For
the miracle we all must wait
And
pray on bended knee
Count
to three and hold your breath
The
thief takes time to digest
All
its garnered on its heath
With
rhyme of infinite splendour
Solis
of individuation
Had
he thought he could heal the nation
Perhaps
he’ll switch to another station
And
such for divinity
On
bended knee, we pray.
A
gentleman, a sailor I have been
But
what have you been in between
A
sparkler on our New Year’s day
When
we dead souls learn how to play
For
life is magick when half-life’s up
For
you I’ll be a buttercup
A
dharma bum, a seer, a saint
Now
let’s not hear nary a complaint
Shadows
and light, I have them both
I
am a guest upon this earth
I
have some friends and adversaries too
Perhaps
I’ll shift from red to blue
We
all know that the Doc’s a game
Who
heals the sick and heals the lame
I
once was blind but now I see
And
on this watchtower I’ll make three.
Love
and other Heinous Acts
Star-crossed
lovers
Merry
the ship
While
whipping boys scream
For
all that’s sick
Mighty
war follows years of Love
But
who shall be singing from above
The
laurels lain, the prince forlorn
Perhaps
from one another we are torn
We
hit the roof, then smoke cigars
Perhaps
we’ll have our Hitler cars
Joined
by love, and songs of hate
When
the boys learn how to skate
And
dance on ice with crosses borne
Then
I shall again blow my horn
After
vanquishing illusions, samsara dead
Who
will be the first to give me head
Not
some trollope in a bar
Not
a man with his guitar
But
a lady fair and worth her price
For
I have long been only nice.
Heart
attack Guru
Chained
by swords of fame
Self-hood
is a lie
And
anonymity a game
If
only it were easy
To
write within the heart
But
it blackens him so deeply
That
we’re off to a good start.
If
I could be an elf
Eating
mushrooms in the woods
I
wouldn’t have to talk of self
But
still five you the goods
And
take the all of life’s splendours
Without
a friend or foe
To
nature I would bend
Upon
the ebb and flow
But
comrades I have plenty
And
adversaries few
I
wish we all were mighty and could escape this zoo.
He
is the infinite goof
All
things are lined through h9im
He
could be so aloof
His
beard would need a trim
But
masters master selves
And
elves are but a few
So
we put out trophies on our shelves
And
paint our centres blue.
How
little she is
Hitler
hockey! What a bust
It
all corrodes down to dust
I
guess we all do what we must
In
a land with freedom and lots of trust
Even
for the wicked there is respect
But
look what we’ve lost in what is wrecked
Muscling
bodies forty times a day
Counting
our sins throughout the day
Vishnu
creates and shiva destroys
But
listen to all this world’s noise
In
multitudes when we live in the sun
But
look into night and what is done
With
children that play throughout the day
Even
Lucifer has his way
When
Socrates lies down to bed
Now
in Lethe we forget about some he’s said
For
travellers walk in one door of six
And
walk out with Hindu’s crucifix
But
what will happen when the temple’s done
And
all the wise men learn to run
Will
there be shelter for the faithful
Or
just some mobs of people wrathful
Only
I with conviction know this course
When
I take the spoon and ride the horse
And
predict with dreams what there might be
If
all were living to be free
I
bare this weight like a mule’s back
And
dare not say upon which track
I
have followed and I have taken
An
immanent Buddha I have forsaken
So
I muscle this earth with flesh and bone
And
one day soon I’ll find my throne
And
reckon that we shall all atone
For
what has been done upon this rebirth –
We
thank some god each and every day
Even
the sun and moon do play
And
soon we’re isolated and alone
Individuated
and in community grown
And
now we die a little more each night
Hoping
some day we’re out of sight
But
stars we are and know our light
And
soon with wings we all take flight.
A
Guest
To
sleep, to dream
A
factory of moonbeams
And
run suns raging light
To
diminish not power, out of sight
Hailey’s
comet came and went
An
eclipse, and mars demonic vent
War
rages long in my gut
I
thing that I was irrevocably cut
From
off that train that went rolling by
A
sea of diamonds in ladies’ eyes
Some
mushrooms that were clouded over
Sometimes
I wish eye were in Dover
Or
had four-leaf clovers in my hair
To
dispel the evil in the air
I
did not have the angst to put it there
But
I could set it free
Unto
this sailor’s sea
Perhaps
there will be some mischief
If
I remain the little Indian chief.
The
things they don’t teach you about in college
When
you are in , you’re in
And
when you’re out, you’re out
The
body is an infinite goof
And
I guess there’s what love’s about
Care
for the body as a temple
Keep
a lucid mind
Keep
the rhythm of the body pulsing
When
you’re doing fine
Watch
your friends so they guard you
Study
in the mind’s eye
You
know we’re liberty limited
Until
we say goodbye
And
every time we say good bye
The
music that was in me leaves
For
I’ve learned how not to fly
And
how to pitch inside.
It’s
good enough for Buddha
It’s
good enough for love
It
may be good for Allah
But
watch what’s on the stove
I
keep things on the back burner
I’m
a chef extraordinaire
There’s
a heart for a good lover
Perhaps
I’ll shave my hair
For
the Buddha I am tight
And
a muscle I shall be
I
can’t be strong as four
But
maybe I’ll be three
There’s
no moral to this story yet
But
trespasses and sins
I’ll
wait until tomorrow
To
see which Allah wins.
It’s
in and out
It’s
up and down
To
live to die
Is
not a clown
To
love, to give
Reciprocate
Dispel
the hate
His
need to live
Do
not despair
What’s
in the air
Some
does come down
Some
stays in the ether
This
cess pool under
That
draws some thunder
Makes
us so mad
And
makes us bad
But
how to think
Upon
the page
Upon
the stage
A
minimal age
There’s
retention
There
is abstention
I
do declare
The
mind’s everywhere
I
swing through the clouds
I
hop from stories
There
is no more
We’re
not all tories.
I’ve
come to say
More
for solidarity
I’m
no Hercules
Bit
I can sing
The
nation needs
Joy
and sobriety
I’m
not so gay
As
one might say
But
that’s enough
I’ll
hang tough
I’ll
be a falcon
Rough
enough.
I
fucked up a girl
With
expressionist art
I
killed a Buddha
Without
any heart
I
told a tale
Without
any soul
They
named me Lucifer
As
if it were me goal
They
said I had light
I
said I couldn’t bend
But
then I broke
And
was unable to mend
So
I wrote you a song
To
forgive me at end
My
laughter is gone
I
don’t know where I’ll send
All
these inclinations of mine
To
do good at the start
But
now I am fearless
With
a very cold heart.
I
needed to write
To
atone for my sins
To
make wrong write
To
make losses wins
And
though I go on
I
am paralysed such
My
life as a con
It
isn’t worth that much
Some
art, music drawings
Some
philosophic rings
To
whatever comes
To
whatever life brings
But
it is dead in the core
I
know not how to heal
As
the man says to touch
Is
greater than to feel
So
the great revolution
Is
either behind or in front
Whichever
way you look
You’ll
truly have to hunt.
The
great wars behind us
The
greater to come
You
know not to cuss
You
know now the sum
I
gave you the numbers
I
gave you their meaning
I
made you all sombre
I
made you with feeling
I
taught you the language
To
go down, to go up
I
learned from my neighbours
With
whom I did sup
So
go with conviction
Spread
love cross the land
Individual
with solidarity
At
least I gave you a hand.
Make
me angry
If
you want to
Make
me stubborn
Hard
and through
Make
me spit
At
your indecision
Make
me laugh
To
comfort you
make
me nuts
For
my compassion
Make
me crazy
For
my love and fashion
Make
me mad
For
my sacrifices
Make
me kill
To
stare at you
Make
me worn
Where
no one goes
But
the bloody and the blue
Make
me shades of grey in shadows
Make
me hate to know its through.
The
Compulsion to write
How
love can so easily
Be
transformed to hatred
And
animosity
I
shall never know
Some
say it’s a war
Between
the black and white
Between
the left and write
But
I lie curled
Beneath
my sheets
Trying
to make sense
Of
it all. Power
I
guess, and the individual
Spirit,
where the soul is drenched
By
inundations of madness
Constantly
subsuming
Sand
being subsumed –
We
devour and we are devoured
No.
It is not nice –
But
it is one of the laws
Of
Buddha nature.
Definitions
Spiral
age dichotomies
Choices
in the air of crying lamas
Tortured
chambers, spiritus mundi
Ghost
apocalypse, joined by 33
Neighbours
peace, but stealing still
Why
don’t you just take a pill
Haunted
mansions, guard fort knox
Reading
papers with closed locks
Hermetic
seals and paper dragons
Stumped
chieftains, horse and wagon
Carriage
sent to dharma bums
In
subways, shelters, whatever comes
What
may, what will, who started
This
mess? He is whom we have to bless
The
path is not clear for those who see
Wandering
thoughts on jeopardy
Think
fast, think slow, unite body and mind
Buddhisattva
sutra in front and begin
To
lead this state out of misery
And
into peace where it should be.
I
need to know what’s black
And
white as ghosts
Traveling
through the night
Greetings
and welcome to all
We
are always at war and peace
Can
we subsume all in time
treasure
left buried defined
By
the pounds of sand
That
weigh it down
Do
you mean terror?
I
do not mean that
But
pressure for order
Is
self and society
To
succeed in conquering
The
self, and the global chaos
Is
the only context in hand.
So
guard your thought
Shapes
emerge in solipsistic air
I
am not that I am
Weakened
by my compassion
I
must write form operative
The
voice is dead
Or
should I say, only alive
I
have not known
The
wrestling world, alive
Save
the voice
I
am one and not at all
She
come with mercy in a wink of sleep
I
have done more for most
Than
what I have done
For
myself.
The
Cess pool of thought
Disjointed,
I, He and We
Discover
the mind, in wandering
The
rinks of ice, in sliding communion
Join
with those in finite illusion
I
see an image, ghosts in the sky
I
ask myself, the eternal why
Oh
lama do not ask what is it
Let
us go and make our visit
A
four pronged hand, a rose, a knife
These
she makes to shed her life
Of
images stagnant in the world
Here
we go, together, unfurled
Whispering
angels, messengers of god
Now
which is even and which is odd.
Broken
tables, broken beds
We’ve
lost our minds, lost our heads
Reaction
leads to virtual loss
And
humility is all the cost.
Can
we not broken bear the weight
And
learn to love and not to hate
With
religious fervour and piety
That
keeps us in chains not permitting liberty.
Leaders
learn from reticence
Resistance
is key to guard your pence
Money
is lost when that flows freely
But
greedy we are when we are Dealing
With
the imagination in man’s mind
The
image is lost with what we’ve left behind
Who
is it that disturbs the universe
Take
him to a brothel or a hearse
But
not to kill, until he’s dead
And
then on a platter we’ll have the genius’ head.
Half
and half cream
It’s
a dream gone mad
Up
the stream of wishes
Down
the ghetto of time
So
many showers
Illuminations
darkened
White
and black
All
of history harkened
I
don’t dare spoil all the secrets
Some
doors are better left closed
Now
that I have won the music
I
have fallen from grace
Samsara
leads to hell
And
the self must be bound
To
circumnavigate the flood
Of
adoring aspirations why do I love
And
hate not more than that….
Hold
on to it
Hold
on to the ball
Don’t
even pass it when they call
Don’t
let go even if you fall
Don’t
let them know if you stall
Grip
the passage if you mean it
Can
you get far in between it
Can
you recall that which you’ve seen it
What
a child like when you wean it?
You’ve
come so far but have far to go
Be
as cold as winter in the snow
Continue
your path even if you blow it
There
is more than one gift if you bestow it.
But
night’s the time to absorbing the blackness
Dense
as fog and cool as molasses
Hold
on to the calling if you mean it
And
that’s the child you know to wean it!
I
wanted anonymity
So
they tried to take my name
But
it was enlightenment I was after
And
not just simply fame.
Notoriety
was an incident
That
happened in the game
But
you can’t steal my faith
Though
it’s liberty all the same.
I
learned to see in the dark
I
learned to read some minds
What
I stole was just a spark
Of
mysterious friendly kinds.
I
was just going by my instincts
Of
suprapersonal notations
I
hadn’t had an inkling
Of
how much it affected nations
The
tube was all a wreck
And
the thought police were alive
They
tried to cut my neck
So
I learned to live with five.
She
brings me out
To
a know around this heart
What
more to life is there than art
To
heal, to feel, to sublimate
To
laugh, to cry, to love, to hate
She
brings me out
Of
my cold shell
Without
her warmth
There’s
only hell
For
now I live, for now I d9ie
For
her I’d steal, for her I’d spy
A
woman in my life to be
what
more is there in liberty
But
there’s no freedom truly in this art
With
her I’ll await this war to start.
Last
Re-Marx
How
far can you stretch
The
dollar bill. If you hang
It
from the window sill
And
let it dry in the rain
It
may last longer – I can’t
Complain.
The strength of sugar cane
Struck
against the back – you’ve had
Lour
lashings – why do you want
Them
back? For posterity
There
is no crime in a sister’s compassion
But
to live it large, is the fashion
I’ll
write a motorbike
I
might blow up a train
And
then there’s reign, rain, rein
And
I shall reign Victor Hugo Boss
With
only Magick received, and little loss.
A
den of thieves
Surrounds
my chambers
Where
distortion lies
In
the midst of misapprehension
Gods
and angels!
I
say, do repent
The
sins of mind and body
There
is no evil but in hatred
And
the self
Is
too lonely, but to admit
Its
defeat, in the commonwealth
Of
navigation of the stars
Where
children sing
Of
majestic rebirths
Of
the solitary king and Lord.
Bend
but don’t brake
Break
but don’t find out
Out
but you are always in
In
but you always shout
Shout
to keep you so alive
Alive
to show that you aren’t dead
Dead
can dance with masks on head
Head
I wish you would within my bed
Bed
its time for sleep and philosophy
Philosophy,
it’s better taught within the class
Class,
it is a struggle to stay strong
Strong
we know can never do wrong
Wrong
beside her I know not to ask
Ask
which question it may be you last
Last
to save the world in one soul
Soul
to give and reap a Buddha bowl
Bowl
for dollars and for sense
Sense
he’ll need as he repents.
Masterbation
Metaphor
They
tried to suck me in
While
I was sucking my thumb
Blow
jobs by the million
I
drank coke and rum
I
bade my time in isolation
Spent
my life in masterbation
A
metaphor of course, that of art
Singing,
writing, drawing myself by heart
Painting
pictures in the air
Not
knowing who could see them
Who
would care – dwelling in samsara
Illusions
of the Buddha fields
Leading
to suffering and egoism
And
the bleeding light that spoon feeds
The
world to dwell on, suprapersonal
And
then I went to Hell, the Bardos
But
I was luck , I still held all the cards.
This
muscled heart
Is
aching in its ice
From
when we part
To
tomorrow’s dice
That
are thrown out
Like
pebbles on the beach
Perhaps
its true
I
overreach
But
less is more
And
now you know
To
bring it down
As
falls the snow
I’ll
miss you now
Forever
and a day
I
once was lost
But
now I know the way
It’s
in between the beating
Of
the heart
And
perhaps we’ll have
Some
more of this art
The
times have got
And
we fall in
Just
bide your time and don’t just spin
A
thought is wasted
But
it goes around
As
if you know
It
doesn’t make a sound
But
hopes are spared
And
made in few
I’m
not quite red
I’m
not quite blue
But
shades of grey
Are
what’s in store
We’ll
have to pay forever more
Relaxe
for now
The
world is not yet dead
And
there will be time
To
make your bread
But
forget your longing
Forget
your fall
There
will be a long winter
For
now, that’s all.
The
rain is driving me crazy
I’ve
been listening to it all night
And
I think that I’ve grown lazy
Just
trying to try out of sight
This
formal repartee
That
haunts us left to right
Is
beyond all recognition
Of
a struggling poet’s light
To
make a statue disappear
Painting
black on white
Is
to show some stubborn will
And
to end a rapid flight
But
tomorrow is an answer
That
is never far away
Sand
always with the magick
A
warlock I will stay
Goodnight
to bed time stories
Goodnight
to lover’s play
The
moral of the story
Is
to never always stay.
Make
me know to bail out
Of
a leaking ship that true
Make
me lie through gritting teeth
Make
me warn that you must shoe
Cut
my tonsils out with scissors
Share
my pain with world war two
Make
VietNam an instant hit
On
the history that we’ve been through
Get
tomorrow no more yesterday
Make
my reverie gone with the night
For
we are all so up in smoke
That
I feel we’re out of sight
Sheath
your swords for I surrender
Pocket
your guns for we are done
This
ain’t no seargent slaughter
But
we’ll sure be having fun.
The
courtroom in session
My
pen-knife in hand
Have
you learned your lesson
For
all of this land
I
give them the entrance
But
not all the exit
I’d
say now forever
But
I wouldn’t want to hex it
I
take all of Tibet
Some
of India too
But
with the imminent threat
You
do what you must do
I
practise my breathing
I
take sword and shield
But
with all these illusions
I
don’t know if Allah would yield
I
cross forty times a day
Fifty
at most
The
rest of the times I play
I’m
not always a ghost
I
cross at the river
I’ve
been through the Styxx
Now
what I wonder
Is
are we all hicks.
Too
late for remorse
I’ll
enjoy my tea leaf
And
now what you wonder
Is
if I’m just a thief
Well,
I’ve stolen from the best
And
the worst in the land
I’ve
stolen in jail
But
wait til you see what I’ve planned
A
muscle reunion
With
cars that drive fast
And
one day I’ll be super
And
then I’ll be last.
Children
of the Book
Quiet,
please, silence in your prayers
Oh
foolish hearts, who rush in swarms
Like
killer bees who ignite their own flames
In
fiery whispers of red, orange, and blue
The
abyss will take you in your haunting cries
You
in black garb and cars, cloaks
Of
Rabbis, teachers, and pupils
Who
dare to absorb all light
To
dance like angels on the stage of life
Can
we not catapult ourselves back
In
time and out of this luxury of thought
Where
those who teach underground
Hold
not resentment, but memory and pride
Which
hold them back from further
Spiritual
progression, light and tranguility.
Your
wars come back to haunt you
For
you lack courage in your conviction
Of
studies, wherefore the budding trees
Of
spring and may, hold not a sway
For
the white blackness of winter
Where
you shelter yourselves in infinite
Longing
and despair. Your jokes
And
comedies are no longer funny
Your
wit and answers hold no sway
And
you shall be punished, like all
The
rest, who dare to overreach
With
arrogance in their humility –
Praise,
bless, curse in these times of tribulation
We
move fast in times of tribulation...
Energy
of slaves
However,
there is more to come
In
Poland they had it too
In
Palestine and Israel
The
war wages on the fastest
Where
the mighty and the hellbent
Are
the first to curse and be blessed.
My
shadow shows the time of day
And
we should never more forget
That
there is a time to play
A
time to rise and set.
And
in your prayers that haunt me
I
ask you to be king
To
fight to be the men
In
your ghostly offering.
The
Killers
Somebody
killed a cat, no
Somebody
killed the rain
I
think it was the reign of terror
No,
that was only Spain
Where
they had the mass conversions
And
the slaughtering of goats
Someone
trained a pilgrim, once
To
feed them holy oats.
I
know not where I come from
Or
how I’m seated here
I
only know I’ve died once
And
that was not only out of fear.
I
praise the host who haunts me
For
their immaculate conceptions
But
playing we were wrecked once by infinite deceptions.
I
used to pitch top houses
Cross
fields and down the lanes
Now
I pitch to muscles
To
the gut from what was once the lane.
I
pitch love to the heart
Which
I used to think was dead
But
now I got it in art
From
what was once only the head.
I
used to dream in images
Which
I thought were only in my mind
Now
I know its universal
And
I think I’ve fallen behind.
But
I’ll speed up rather quickly
From
the sixes to the fives
I
thank my God, I write here
I
give thanks that I’m alive.
Clay
Vessel
This
fights still wages
For
my soul
For
whatever is in
This
Buddha bowl
Bona
fide
Faith
supreme
Lovers
kill
And
people dream
Stuck
on thoughts
Of
peace and war
The
story goes
As
it did before
The
white shall move
The
black shall stay
And
in the end
We’re
remodelled clay
And
if you’re nice
You’re
sure to lose
And
if you evil
You’ll
drown in booze
There’s
nothing left to lose.
-- All text, photography, and drawings,
JD Kruger, Owner, GLP4.
