A long, long time ago, I can still remember when,
Junk food made me smile,
And I knew if had my chance,
That I could make my fatness dance,
And maybe I was happy for a while.

But McDonald's made me shiver,
With every burger they'd deliver,
Bad news on their doorstep,
I couldn't take one more step.

I can't remember if I cried,
When  I passed size twenty-five,
But something touched me deep inside,
The day I knocked back obesity fries,
CHORUS.
So, bye, bye McDonald's French fries,
Drove my  chevy away from McDonald's,
didn't have a bevy,
I said goodbye to whiskey and rye,
Singing no more apple pies,
That's the end of obesity fries.....

Did you  go to McDonald's biomes?
Did you know you're  changing your genomes?
Eating all those pesticides?
Now do believe they love you, guys?
Might as well eat dead flies!
And can you change evolution in real time?

Well, I know you're addicted to them,
You'll need more than treadmills in the gym,
Now can't even put on your shoes,
Man, you'll dig the obesity blues,

CHORUS.

I was an obese teenage bronco buck.
Driving to McDonald's in a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day I ate landfill in those French fries...

I started singing bye, bye obesity fries,
Drove my chevy, had no bevies,
And the burgers were dry,
This is the day I knock back French fries.

CHORUS.
I met a girl who sang the blues,
She'd passed turning size twenty-two,
I asked her if she ate junk food too,
She just smiled and drove away,
I drove down to the store no more,
Where I ate additives years before,
But the junk food store didn't care anyway...

CHORUS
CHORUS....

it wasn’t chaotic.
it was calm and serene,
like the ocean.
the soft pitter patter
of the rain on the roof,
and the cool air it brought.
it was a sip
of freshly brewed coffee,
natural with no additives,
whatsoever.
the gut feeling
of knowing where home was.
and that is how
you came into my life.


the star that shines the brightest
amongst the pitch black sky.
it’s the white cloud that outshines
all the gray and gloomy ones.
the perfect fit of the last piece
to the unfinished puzzle.
it's the warm, fuzzy feeling
of getting into bed
early on a Friday night.
and that is how it was
when I started loving you.


it’s like a deeply cut wound,
one that’s inundating
with crimson colored blood,
having a tinge of maroon.
it induces pain
with every inbreathe
and exhalation.
it manages to have
the appearance of a scar,
yet it still feels so fresh
like a bruise.
and that is how it felt
when you left.


it was filled with haze
and suffocation.
the uncontrollable fast paced beat
of your heart.
Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile,
one that is hardly understood
by majority of the world.
a bite of dark chocolate,
bitter and sweet.
and this is my survival.

The purity is mysterious
Questionable at best
Subjective additives aiding the escape from a benign reality. 
Harsh sedatives cloud my body
Instant relief from the mundane
It's flame burns in my veins
This beast, is becoming difficult to tame
Beat it or fall prey, it's really all the same.

It's June, 1967.
Nature, still lying through
Parsley green teeth,
Breathes the last of spring,
Hints early summer warmth,
Pre-July's cicada whine,
August's heat and wind.

Crops, still tender green
Quiver beneath a humid sky,
Under a glowing sun.

Bicycles amuse our early lust
To soar untraveled ground,
Entering lazy summer's ennui,
We scan a hawk riding drafts
On the edge of our hill.

Dust, drifting up the graveled road,
Five miles below us,
Piques our interest,
Causes the dog to raise his head.
He ***** an ear
Toward a sound we cannot hear.

We hear gravel slapping rocker panels
Before the traveler's roof rises into view,
Catch our breath as the engine slows,
Start running for the house.

A stranger's arrived,
A traveling salesman,
Better than an aunt
Only stopping in for tea
And woman talk.

Dad keeps his welding helmet down,
Repairing broken things.
The hired man inhales his cigarette,
Acts disinterested.

My memories linger on the past....

Salesmen brought the latest farming gadgets:
Additives for fuel and oil,
Battery life extenders,
Grain elevators and fencing tools,
Produce and livestock products,
Lightning rods and roofing,
Chrome-edged cultivator shovels,
Insurance for everything:
Fire, water, wind, hail.

Pitches came without exception:

"Top o' the morning! Looks like you're busy.
Don't want to take your time."

"Looks like you could use some welding rod,
And I have something new for you to try."

"Have you used chromium additive in you livestock salt?
Guaranteed to put on weight and protect from bovine
Tuberculosis!"

"Say, have you heard about the effectiveness of a new
Insecticide called DDT? I've got a sample gallon here
For you to try. Works better than Malathion!"

Dad, eventually intrigued, began the slow dance
Of dickering, haggling over this thing or that.
Most salesmen, closing in for a ****,
Hadn't grappled with my father.

At noon, deals still in the air,
My mother called the men,
And we all trudged in to wash,
Waiting in line at the tub,
Scrubbing with powdered Tide
To remove the grime and grease,
Drying on the darkening towel,
Finding a seat at the table.

The salesmen expected the meal
As though it were their right,
A standing invitation:
Stop in at noon,
Make your pitch,
Sit at table,
Close the deal after.

We boys sat and listened
To man talk.
Eyes wide, we marveled
At gadgets,
Wondered at Dad's parleying,
Winced at the deals he drove,
Commiserated with squirming salesmen
Surely made destitute by Dad's hard bargaining.

In retrospect,
I know the game was played
On two sides,
That the battery additives
Bought for five dollars a packet,
Even with the two Dad finagled free,
Cost about five dollars for everything,
Returned forty-five and change
To the smirking, full-bellied salesman
Who left a cloud of dust on his way
To supper a few miles down the road.

I am the Individual Isness incarnated in this body.
I am not the body.
I have travelled through many lifetimes in many bodies.
always learning learning learning.
I have developed nous from my experiences only.
I WILL NOT EVER-
accept a mind in my head.
accept any conditioned identity as being  me.
cede control over my brain centres to any mind or groupmind
that exists anywhere..
I WILL NOT EVER--
cede control over my brain centres to any conditioned identity or
group conditioned identity that exists anywhere.
or accept that any other but me,the Individual Isness, using my brain centres,using my brain the way I,the Individual Isness,want to and can do
to be in charge of the brain centres in the head of this body that I,the Isness,am incarnated in.
I WILL NOT EVER--
be prey to opinion-formers and experts and  pie charts and
focus groups and surveys.
be manipulated by PR men and women in shiny suits.
see Edward Bernays book--Propaganda.
be manipulated by GroupMinds into thinking  their way.
be taken in by brutal security forces posing as "guardians of peace.
respect in any way any member of any military forces anywhere
no matter how fancy the uniforms or excuses for ****** they wear.
I do not respect these parasites anywhere as they are nothing more than paid mercenary murderers on behalf of various Oligarchies..
see Jaques Ellul's book--Propaganda.
I WILL NOT EVER--
take any dangerous addictive cancer causing drugs
such as Alcohol and Tobacco primarily--
food additives...
No one has ever died from any cannabis product.
or from LSD or Mesccaline or Psylocybin.
believe in any so-called "god" or "goddess".
believe in any so-called "prophet" of any so-called "god"or "goddess".
accept any so-called "holy" book as valid or truthful
or valuable in any way except as
emergency papers to roll a grass joint
or to wipe my **** on.
be taken in by depraved words and concepts in any of these so-called "holy "books that have led to endless wars and still ongoing terrorism and atrocities in the name of one bloodthirsty "god" or "goddess".
I WILL NOT EVER--
accept anything as reality unless I can see clearly that
it is beyond duality.
accept any Conditioned Identity as me.
For I am the Isness which is a small but equal,individual,
autonomous and independant part of the essence of the Isness of the Universe--!.
which is not a "soul" or Atman or spirit
or any other religious concoction.
I WILL NOT EVER---
accept Mind as a necessary evil
accept GroupMind as a necessary evil.
I WILL NOT EVER ---
eat junk food of any kind.
drink tap water anywhere except in direst emergency.
eat white sugar or any other pure carbohydrate.
be a hypocritical moralising vegetarian.
become stoopid through bowing and scraping
and stooping at stupas.
I will be just a Self realised man living on a big ball in space
with a Self Realised woman playing and singing and dancing the Song of Our Lives.

www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk

Drum Gold
Is my tobacco
It has character
And I had a girl once
Who liked Cutters Choice
And I told her it had more additives
And that it burnt hotter
And that Drum Gold had more character
And we spent nights exploring each other's bodies
And smoking Drum Gold
Which she adopted
But that ended
Like all good things
And I've forgotten a lot of those spent nights
And now she smokes Golden Virginia

Am I not your cup of tea?
Did I add a teaspoon too much insanity?
Does your mouth twist at the taste of me?
Am I not your cup of tea?

Or do I fit you perfectly?
When you see the crazy,
Do you drink deeply?
Am I your perfect cup of tea?

Am I far too bitter?
Can you even taste the sweet?
Did I add too much hurt,
To be your perfect cup of tea?

Or maybe you take your tea black.
Maybe I'm just right.
Maybe you sip and savor
Maybe I'm just the right kind.

Am I not your cup of tea?
Did I steep too much of me?
Were the additives too sweet
To be your perfect cup of tea?

Her Heartbeats defining my expenses
Dominating what I can hear
Water being marketed
With special additives

Lost in this world
Where getting by
Involves selling my soul
The devil having the upper hand

And I sold myself
To be relatively unknown
Within a known circle

up at your regularly scheduled night sky patrol,
the colorful clock says 2:47 and
dark skies confirm which 2:47 it is,
for flecks of blackened peppery light exude at this hour,
a time period for former lovers, those old writes enfolded, enveloped,
hiding an active poem volcano spewing bare feet words in clouds of
kidskin soft velveteen cumulus, fleece-comforting slippers of poems

there are half started poems waiting, more than one, triplets in fact,
waiting to be born in the time of pandemic, thinking quietly,
will they emerge healthy and living and grow up to be adults
contributing to society, additives to the engine oil of human living

but the old familiar, dissatisfaction with quality control leaves them
unfinished, poet lurches from dead roses head hanging, a new blues,
disease as an economic and societal differentiation, that you hope,
believe, poems that in due course, all will emerge, for better or for worse,

poetry birthed in the time of pandemic

the city of new york, where I was birthed and will die, a city of
tall buildings, tall tales, short attention spans there is but one nighttime moving automobile observed in a city that never sleeps but now hides blanketed in weariness of trepidation of what are the

well known unknown possibilities in the time of pandemic

and you wonder in this new, different quietude if poems can be born
with birth defects and survive, breathing on a ventilator till they can
breathe by their own lungs, or were they perma-infected on a supermarket trip, a walk by the East River, a pizza delivery man, even

if inspired by a decade-lover, next, in bed, in the time of pandemic

waving to grandchildren in their second story window, you on the street, keeping them safe from you, a modern Auschwitz train station where they separated, the we-useless out, children and their parents, safe in a barbed wire atmosphere, a demarcated world, where some billion of brimming droplets of tears are stillborn

stillborn poems, or perhaps just poems-in-waiting, to still be

born in a time of pandemic


3:29am Sunday March 22, Twenty Twenty
New York City, the epicenter, crossroads

my mother tells me
that love can be found at the bottom of a cup of coffee,
and i believe her.

she calls it her "elixir",
drinks half a *** by herself
with french vanilla creamer.
calls me my father's daughter for being unable
to stomach the taste of cream and sugar.

my mother likes her coffee sweet.
i drink mine without additives,
half burnt from sitting in the *** for an hour.
i swirl the dark brew at the bottom of my cup
before giving up
on taking the last sip.

the last sip of coffee makes me gag.

my mother tells me
that love can be found at the bottom of a cup of coffee,
and i believe her.

We were exposed to the fresh air,
No air conditioning or filtered air,
Fewer allergies, less asthma, better health

We played outside, in the dirt and mud,
No television, computers or video games,
More resistance to common illness,

We did not eat processed foods,
No artificial chemicals, food additives
Mom had to bake bread, cook from scratch

Mom raised the children and was at home,
Mom, swatted us when we needed discipline,
Most of all Mom was there to Love us

Life was slower then, more predictable
We waited for Dad to get home,
Then we sat at a table, to eat supper, as a family

Chewing words, this one's sweet, look a sentence, more to eat

Crunching nouns, I love the sounds

Grinding pronouns into grounds

My favorite words are adjectives, like herbs they're flavor additives

Conjunctions help to bind the meal

Verbs now helping chew with zeal

Not sure I can articulate how much I love what I just ate!

It's not hard
To find people
Who party
Like it's still 1991
There will always
Be the girls
Who get
Decked out
Get drunk
And pick fights
Guys who flirt
With your skin
On the dance floor
Who take you
To their place
Showing you
Something
You've never known
There will always
Be additives
That make you
Have a great night
Or send you crashing
Without any hope
Of holding on
People take the ride
And it spits them
Out like chewed up
Sunflower carcasses
To live is to be
Free, they say
You give a bird
Too much fly room
And he'll wear
Out his wings
You can dream
About the ***
You'll have
And the girls you'll
never meet
But after all of
The drinking
The smoking
The good time
You still go home
And you still lay in
Your bed
And you still get up
In the morning
With a hangover
And you still feel
Like you are the
Only person
Like you
And you still
Want to be able
To sit around
Without having to
Think about
How lonely you
Really are
Even though
Every night,
You felt like
You were
A exploding
Star

Before you read this poem
make sure you wear a helmet, goggles  
knee-pads, elbow pads, shin guards,
breast plates, mouth guards, and apply your
gauze and tape.  These words are fat-free, extra
calcium enriched, reduced sodium,
plentiful source of vitamin C,
comes in diet and caffeine free.  The surgeon general says
don't read for more than 15 minutes without
blinking.  Keep this out of the reach
of children, contents under pressure and extremely flammable
and keep out of direct sunlight while losing
your taste is a minor side effect.  
Organic, no additives or preservatives
and absolutely no trans fats or glucose whatsoever.
Store between 65 and 68 degrees Fahrenheit in a
poor lit area.  Push down and turn to open while
contents are extremely hot.  Do not take with water and
eat a tablespoon of salt and in the unlikely event of
stomach bleeding place the oxygen mask around
your face before assisting children or others around you.
You’ll be held down, told how to think if you’re
below the influence and turning your brains into scrambled
chicken abortions.  This may complicate pregnancy while putting
holes in your intestines and most importantly death may
happen for the first time user. In case of death see your doctor immediately

what is it
to be human
to uphold justice and the land
to live to be   the earth  a flower bed
as in love of chivalry
to be the positive force of nature
to live to rule within a force called humanity
where does the time go oh life so busy
so full the desire for love as living
a life performed to stand up to survival
and know the nectar the pollen given for the living
a brain the will of a sixth sense
more strength then muscle to solve
the needs the meetup round a bouts chance encounters
mates family friends acquaintances of survival
to think and perform with the blessings of humanity
a survival system to live eternity in nature
We the flowers of all Earth species blooming
living and dying as their existence ritualizes    
a mona lisa smile an *****
like a turtle to a hare   to carry on
defiantly smiling holding firm
pacifist-ism awaiting
while a snake-tongue flickering **** retentive greed
waiting on the Star sun the green new deal
lets put all people shapes sizes to work now
the order of greening the economy !!!!
gives you the right to a job at a living wage
the guarantees of society
an economy that runs on flower power
on 100% wind water and sun the sustainable
energy-efficient public utilities and transportation system
all energy runs clean and renewable
it means we feed people a sustainable organic
created food system which is local plant based food
We stop pollution by greening energy
transition to green economy enormous health care
savings switching from sick-care medicine to health care
world clean energy and real food no additives
that collects and kills you    
this the evolution      gjmars 7/7/15

This is how the kids write poetry.
Line by line,
Word by word,
Just to get a letter on a handwritten page.
They scrawl out symbols and make some pretty pictures in their mind,
Fill it with preservatives, additives, and starches,
Maybe an occasional crocodile tear,
But like robots, with mostly artificial intellect;
They lack heart.