Got to Samaria And What Did I See? (Part I.)


Got to Samaria

And what did I see?


Just piles and piles

Of vanity!


Got to Samaria

And what did I say?


“They trample the 

heads of the poor,”


That’s what I said,


“into the dust


and shove the meek 

out of the way.” 




Predictability is so damn predictable.

But maybe I can say that now only

because I’ve had a karmic breakdown.


I’ve had a lot of time to think. 

About smiting and righteousness


and the rich and their sandals

in the faces of the poor

and all that business.


Like the sands of the desert 

I go on and on. 


Like the rocks I just roll on. 

Finite, sure. I suppose. 


Yet so endless as to be nearly so. 

Yet on and on some things don’t change. 


Some of those conclusions not

from agricultural metaphors.


Still, you don’t run a horse on solid rock. 

Still you don’t plow the sea with oxen. 


Some things are constant. 

Things like change. 

Brother Heraclitus is 

always right on that one. 


Everything remains vanity. 

Brother Queholet is always right

on that one.Even Brother Buddha’s 

trying to extinguish vanity is . . . well . . .

a bad snuff film.


You get the idea. 



P.S. I’ve had so many lives. And I’ve never yet seen the Big Guy (or Big Gal). 


Gives ya pause, ya know? Made me a Kabbalist at least, you know? 


But who has time to read all that, with so many fruits to ripen?


“Is there a G-d?” has never been the meaningful question, IMHO. 


Gods are everywhere: Pride. Ego.  Mercedes.  Fiat. 









There’s too many gods. 

Make ya wanna be

an atheist, ya know?


Radical, that. 

Plumb holy. That. 



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