not as open as i used to be
to the universal energy
closing myself physically
limits me emotionally
as the body ages
shut downs come in stages
and it seems outrageous
i would let it happen
when i know
how the energy flows
as posture turns inward
energy stops flowing
everything is shut out
the body stops growing
and the mind stops knowing
how the wind is blowing
everything is showing
energy is glowing
but the eyes start closing
as posture turns inward
and the eyes stop seeing
everything's connected
the senses stop feeling
all the energy
that flows through everything
endlessly repeating
a cosmic heart beating
past infinity
and eternity
right through you and me...
but i am not as aware of it momentarily...
for i am not as open as i used to be...
and to be continued...
at least hopefully
everybody has one, even if we never know,
everybody has one, we can think it doesn't show,
but it shows and shows and shows
and even if we never know...
who is your moriarty?...
who is your nemesis,
the spy who loved you...
the victim of your poison kiss,
the one who owned you...
the one for whom you sold your soul,
who is your moriarty?...
the only one who can make you whole...
and you think got over it,
you got over it like the sail gets over the wind,
you got over it, way over it,
like the saint who says he never sinned,
you got over it, so way over it,
like the white man loved the indians,
you got over it, easy over it,
like the answer to when life begins...
so sure,
we're all so sure,
we disagree,
we all agree we disagree,
the ways of the people are gone
and we all carry on...
the ways of the people are gone,
and we all carry on...
until the end of time,
that was the promise of your rhyme...
until the end of time,
you don't have to remember,
it's your history...
until the end of time,
that was the method of the crime...
until the end of time,
the truth is there for posterity,
for eternity,
for all to see
who can see...
everybody has one,
the secret we never tell,
everybody has one,
even if it doesn't sell,
it still sells and sells and sells
and even if we never tell...
who is your moriarty?...
who is your babylon,
the love of your love...
the one you never understood,
but always wanted...
the one to whom you gave your all,
who is your moriarty?...
the only one who can make you fall...
the one you would die for,
the one you live for,
the reason you carry on,
the one who haunts you,
the one who taunts you,
even when all hope is gone,
the one you run to
when you dream of love
in the middle of the night,
the one who killed you,
the one who saves you,
the one you want to be your light...
your moriarty...
the one who greys the black and white...
your moriarty...
the voice you want to hear say
your last good night...
even though nobody beats the beatles
as if cuteness was not a crime
a friend asked me once upon a time
do hornets like donuts?
what what's that, i said
gathering my head
sniffing about like
a hound
do hornets like donuts?
that's what she said
whatever could have been
going through her head
do hornets like donuts?
let's hope they do
at least more than me
koo koo ka chooo
do hornets like donuts...
do hornets like donuts?
do hornets like, donuts?
do hornets like donuts?
that is so Seuss
a thought in a noose
daring to hang
around
this is not Seuss
with meter too loose
daring to mock
a sound
what is this then
a poem of zen?
about what it's not
to be found
if hornets like donuts
then wasps might resign
to dine with an ant
on a mound
and somebody else asked does it astound?
as if the animaniacs themselves
were not profound
