Sometimes you just gotta write. To convince yourself that the stuff you think or are able to think up is worth writing down. And to write it down, speak it into a recorder whatever just get it down somehow. Preserve it for future reflection, pride or embarrassment, anything as long as it is preserved. For you and yours are history, living history as of now but soon to be but wind and dust. And you want to be damn dusty don’t you and leave a big pile of effluvia? And ectoplasmic goo? Boo-hoo who knew you flew to the side most difficult because anything normal not quirky is just not for long appealing enough. For you, and all you been through, and all you will go through before its over because, well,
that’s you and at core, it’s always been you and you knew, from age seven or eight or so, right?
But enough about writing. Do some and send it to us. We feel the need to discover, recognize, lend adulation, popularize and assist in many ways. And we expect the same in return from you. If you are willing and able – to let yourself go with us. To where let us discover together and take us all with you on your journey. Everywhere as of now except Sheol or the biblical “land of the dead”. Let us save that for later when dying seems a better proposition, down the road a piece.
It seems I am always answering Zen Master’s questions good enough. So this month or less let us all not write Zen question poems that maybe, just maybe, I can’t answer. Zen poems such as the following:
- What is the sound a nuclear weapon makes exploding if there are no ears to hear it?
- Why is the sound of the sea in seashells?
- Chicken or egg first?
- Why can there not be nothing?
- What is the impact of noiseful silence?
- What is the sound of atrophying gonads?
Will the town I am in be like Roman ruins in thousands of years? And what, Heaven forbid, will happen to my stuff?!! My two stuffed cobras, for instance, what will happen to them? Oh, I hope they go to good homes, and are prominently displayed. Oh Lord Yeah!!!
This time oh boy do we have the poems. Pound for pound, kilo for kilo, these poems are the toughest bastardos out there. These are hard nuts to crack. Sleeper poems ready to wham-mo your psyche sometime, somewhere. Don’t yell out! Don’t scream; “No it can’t happen here!!!” because these pearls cast out swine. That is these gems we are discovering are, unquestionably, priceless in their amplitude of wisdom, word play, and wit. Not to mention the mellifluousness. But don’t take my word for it, explore yourself. Scroll on, read, and get groovy. Boogie on down that poetry road. Or try a short, short story. Type it up and send to us. We need to share your unique. Your very own genius. Write on righteous! And the world needs more like you. Or, well, we’ll be the judge of that if you don’t mind. But to most we say yes. So come with us, and enjoy our ride – straight to Hell!!! Yee-haw Pleasure Island!!!
Oh Lord Yeah!!!
Lord Randall Rogers I