Buddy Wakefield's Blog, page 96

To What End?

November 20, 2015

In A New Earth Eckhart Tolle says that we are the noisiest humans in history.



Some things do not need to be fact-checked.

I Left You A Voice Message

November 19, 2015

Tumblehome

November 17, 2015

So flippin’ excited to see my family and do a set this Saturday

November 21st at Alley Theatre for the 5th Annual

Bayou City Poetry Grand Slam, 615 Texas Avenue, Houston, TX, 7pm

TICKETS

Los Feliz

November 15, 2015

Remove screen from window: check.

Daylight Under the Bed

November 12, 2015

I wrote a new piece called Missoula Got Ugly

while I was still on the world tour and at wits end.

I fiddled with it, changed the name to Daylight Under the Bed

and submitted it to Pouch. Here it is for the first time:

Missoula Got Ugly

November 12, 2015

I wrote a new piece called Missoula Got Ugly

while I was still on the world tour and at wits end. I fiddled with it, changed the name to Daylight Under the Bed and submitted it to Pouch. Here it is for the first time: http://pouchmag.com/issue4.html

NEXT LIFE SOUNDTRACK

November 10, 2015

I’m gonna read this piece tomorrow night at the event below

because I sure like performing it but never did much to get it out there.

If you’re in L.A. you should come. The line-up is holy f… fireworks.

 

NEXT LIFE SOUNDTRACK

Having pumped our panic buttons and pedal metal

down the throats of freeways

then crashed

like heavy glass ashtrays

into our own homes

broadside

with department store force

and a gas can,

distended stomachs and God’s holes…

Having shown off our momentum for yawning

as a clever way

to denigrate deeds of kindness…

Having created

enough minimum wage faith

to distract orphans from the exit rows

then thrown holding pattern parties in their honor

only to present each other

with our own names

on gold plaques

bolted to a fountain of toll booths used

to get dressed up up

in our go go go and gone uninterrupted

by the signs that serve to encourage calming down…

It is good to know

I have finally been loosening my grip

on the expectation that our thumbs

will necessarily oppose each other in the next life.

There is a next life.

And it is my understanding

we will not necessarily be binge-drinking bros

wearing Greek lamp shades

paying for friendships

based on how pornographic our breath smells.

I will not necessarily find myself

rationalizing with computer gamers

and overly polite customer service robots

about how much life is lost

on alternative realities

or how much violence peaceful consumers cause.

The results of our language cannot be programmed.

There is no proper way to hide the rampage

with whom we have been banking.

There are no words

thick enough to conceal the transparencies

in these stories we have crafted

out of loopholes and nothin’ but net.

The next life is being offered to us daily

via live streaming satellite

by entitled white rabbits and tragedy addicts

dragging their fingernail

file cabinets

across records of the damage my nerves have done.

Inglorious preachers of a sensational game.

Sensations and games

are at the root

of why we are walking so inefficiently,

warped 45’s with credit card swagger

charging up a sad sad path

like Ray Charles singing Seven Spanish Angels

to the bottom of the barrel in broad daylight.

Stop congregating in the valley

just because an echo

sounds good

when it agrees with itself.

A trajectory of misery –

at this point –

seems intentional.

We have all the information

we need

to see clearly.

We are no longer toddlers

on the landscape

of consciousness.

It is no longer cute

to crap ourselves.

Get the sticky off your buns

and roll with me.

Brush the hair from your eyes

and comb over.

Stop paying the dentist for a night guard

if it’s still allowing your jaw

to pulverize the truth.

The truth is:

We feel fine. Right now.

We are a point of complete, not a soundtrack

to the next life. The future

gets no say

in who we are. Thank you

for laughing at the joke several lines ago

about sticky buns.

That was sweet. This is nuts. Listen…

Having listened

to the parentheses of passive aggression

and made far too much bracket in response,

incriminating ourselves

as sucker punches and suckerfish,

soaker hoses and preying on

the dead weight

of fashion-forward food for overpopulation…

Having inflicted the most amount of pleasure

with the least harm done

then called it progress…

I am still, without fail, eligible to remind us

that there is a reason the future

gets so agitated by our advances.

We are not built to barge ahead of ourselves

in false fast-forward on a flat fifth wheel

made out of spokespeople for progress

who fly off the handle

whenever anyone taps the breaks.

Throw it in park.

Gauge the pressure.

Renunciation is not a frigid concept.

It is okay

to abandon the tackle practice

of having and crashing and

having and crashing

through this circuit board of carrier pigeons

carrying torch carriers

over an orchestra of strung-out sixteenth notes

composed with a matchstick

that struck out and broke off but did not

burn up. If the future

keeps finding us

in these uncomfortable positions

they might mistake us for honest

before it’s actually true.

How honest is it

that we drink

until we are dehydrated?

If my throat turns to carbonated leather

and you hang me

like a lucky foot from the rearview mirror

while barreling down the freeway,

toll booth after toll booth,

in a heavy glass ash tray,

wondering

how the hell freeways got to be so

goddamn expensive,

remember this: The White Rabbit

is said to be a symbol

of human beings

who are pompous and belittling

toward anything they deem less valuable

than themselves, yet

they grovel to accommodate

anyone from whom they stand to gain.

To what end

are you gaining?

I’m not speaking

to our governments.

I’m speaking

to the way we govern ourselves.

Make your stopwatch

live up to its name.

We are not late

for an important date.

We have simply shown up

too early

for the next life

and forgot to knock, forgot

that the future

doesn’t want us to arrive.

It knows that if we do, it dies.

As if people on stilts really need you to offer them more gravity.

A line drive of pilot lights guided through a single tambourine

November 7, 2015

Two Jim Hodges installations over a million meditators in Thailand.

I’m new, and I don’t know what else to say.

also, the Strongest Hurricane Ever recorded

November 6, 2015

Recently back from being off the grid and was

surprised to discover some things, late to the table as I may be:

– Trader Joe’s has apparently released limitless bags of Honey Roasted Cocoa & Chili

Peanuts & Almonds with Roasted Salted Pecans for sale [wipes tears].

– NASA saw some wondrous thing fly out of a black hole for the first time ever.

– Ann Coulter assumed the name Nicole Arbour and tried to become a comedian.

– Found out I’m gonna be in this streamed show next week with some of my favorites:



Glad to be back, mostly.

Hummingbird Glass

October 22, 2015

Headed off the grid to Joshua Tree

and Vipassana.

Back in action early November.

Until then, I leave you with this…