F. Y. Eye

Posted: February 13, 2013 in Uncategorized

I had a serious issue.

It was something, I could not figure out –

how to fix.

I tried and I tried.

Seriously, I tried.

God knows, I tried…


I believed that the answer must, surely, be outside of me,

and thus, I determined – to ask for advice.

Actually, I didn’t really even have to ask.

I watched. I listened.

I looked to see,

if others had happened upon the solution.

At first glance,

quite a few, showed promise.

But as I looked deeper,

I began to see their solutions fail.

Still, they held on to them, grasping, no less.

Curious, said I.

I even stopped at times, to see,

if there was anything I might add,

to help their machinations turn, freely.

I constantly found, while studying the gears,

that the inventor had missed vital pieces,

to keep a steady rhythm’s flow.

I asked Buddha for help. He just sat quietly, on his ass.

I looked to the east, towards Mecca,

and though I did not kneel,

I knew,

if Mohammad were indeed real,

he surely, in his infinite wisdom,

must not be offended by a minute organism,

standing erect on a tiny planet,

in a tiny solar system,

in a tiny galaxy,

twirling through forevermores of black cold,

wondering how to manifest love and light.

But he was a vague illusion,

a mirage in the desert sand,

and as outdated as Arabian knights,

at the dawn of the Jetsons.


Everyone knows:

killing people who kill people makes you a killer..

and does nothing for peace.


I tried to meditate and become one with the force,

so I could speak to Yoda…

but couldn’t break through the HAARP umbrella, above.


I turned on the TV,

and watched the world go to hell,

and havin a party, no less..

So, I changed the channel,

but Ted Turner is everywhere.


I tried watching the news, but

the media spin made me nauseous

reminding me of the fair,

and the news anchors were masked devils,


promising a fast adventure

feeding candy to the easily led.

Next thing you know,

you’re frightened for your life.


I glanced at the drivers next to me,

but they were transfixed by sights and sounds,

busy, wanting stupid drivers to get the hell out of their way.

and too late to give a care.


I asked a priest to hear my confession,

but he was in fear of fire and brimstone (after listening)

and quickly showed me to the door.


I made a mental note, to burn all empty temples down,



I went to class and sat there, amazed,

that my mind had deployed a full garrison of defense

for the hypnotist to get through.

She never stood a chance.


I considered the power of positive thinking,


considering that, Norman Vincent Peale was a

33rd degree Freemason….

…a  satanist.

well, you can imagine,

I was quick to smell, that, which draws a multitude of flies.


The nice gal with the flowers said to send reiki to it… so…

I took Cho-Ku-Rei, Hon-Sha-Ze-Sho-Nen, Sei-Hei-Ki and Zonar-

and tattooed them in my head.

Watch out.


I gave your theories and fantasies a chance to prove themselves true.

Not one of them is here, to stand up and bear witness to the truth,

and although so many object to my judgment, herein,

I found everlasting value in the one that you CONSTANTLY, reject.


The only one I asked, who had a logical answer to share,

explained it all, in blood, sweat and tears.

He did not seek profit for His advice.

Nor, did He pick up the stone.

His tongue was his weapon,

wielded with healing hands,

and though His definition of victory,

came through surrender,

it became obvious to me,

as if, understood by a child,

that selling the simplistic,

to a world of people, addicted to complexity,

would be a near insufferable task, indeed.






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