Jamaican me crazy.

Are you in the need of
PSYCHIC and SPIRITUAL HELP?

THE
GRADUATE SCHOOL
of
M E T A P H Y S I C A L
SEWER AND DRAIN SERVICE
Presents
LOWERING YOUR KUNDALINI ENERGY
(An Endarkment Workshop)
Featuring FRED MERTZ-BODHISSATVA

EXPERIENCE AN INSTANT LOWERING OF YOUR KUNDALINI!
In this workshop we will share each other's Voids, Abysses and Emptinesses.
INSINCERITY: SHARPEN YOU POWERS OF DECEPTION AND PERFECT
YOUR ABILITY TO APPEAR TO BE LISTENING WHEN YOU'RE ACTUALLY
NOT!

FOR ONE-HALF HOUR EACH DAY WE WILL FEEL SORRY FOR OURSELVES,
AND FOR ANOTHER WE WILL COMPLAIN SEPARATELY AND IN GROUPS!
LEARN TO CLOSE YOUR THIRD EYE!

THE RIGID BLOCK EXERCISE- Maximizing tension and inducing it in others.

FRAGMENTATION THERAPY: LETTING GO OF OUR OBSESSIONS WITH
"WHOLENESS*

LEARN HOW TO GET OFF CENTER AND STAY THERE!

Each day of the workshop we will experience "skeleton out of the closet hour" and
"welcome to my nightmare" in which you will discover specific techniques for
frightening friends and relatives.

HOW TO INVADE ANOTHER'S SPACE!!

For one hour daily we will collectively "bark" the word TRUTH in order to come to a
realization of its relative nature.

TEXT: I'm OK, You're NOT!

Fred Mertz-Bodhisattva experienced the lowering of his Kundalini during the Nixon
administration and has since served as Tentrick Consultant to the Boy Scouts of
America.

rama jama aum hammer

hands in pockets
and
floating through space
stars fell on Alabama
hit me upside
the head

funk is a factory

James Brown is a robot
tripping on the depth of the sun
swinging on karma vines
as mad soapbox robots pour
out butterflies wet and ringing
god damn Mr. Brown
let the suits see the truth in uhhh
whatever you got
we got to get to funkin
on that old rainbow juice
androids in hot pants
down on that boogie between worlds
buzzheavy feathered hat fools
moving in on dimensions wild
we tender robots gots to dance
like holy machines flowering
howling under them jungle rains
as shamans of mindless electricity
bang out this joy
this jam
grooving on godless
just a bleep bloop bleep
cause we got soul

Love,
Rev. MoonPie

change changes change

through the I Ching lens
softly a song
lamentations of steadfastness
silvery stone idols childishly
clinging to iron mountains
insensitive to bristling earth
spinning eyes of fire up
before a gourd of ash
resonating the native fear
hoarding warm-blooded
skins of tears against time
under rabid furs of wit
in gathered lost age lakes
in moist dark vaults
waiting
always waiting
for reflection eternal

but a sympathetic glow
warps the glass beneath
the song of change is soft
and softer still
and heard twice as clear

Love,
Rev. MoonPie

trance trench dance

entrance
the gypsy with no eyes
the beat of dark vegetable matter
breaking up into rings of energy
thus the ceremony begins
thus voodoo is child
crawling up trees
kicking down fruit with bare feet
tossing heavenly body chicken bones
into the soft exactness of now
this trance of clarity
prophecy doesn't need to say
it's just a bum in nobody's world
a raw meat priest
making no claims on the future
as psychedelic trails of movement
brush stillness in electric wisps
a humble hollow bag of tricks
a casual expansion of prayer
praying for ignorance and rain
no one can say what the future holds
when the grip is loose
and there is laughter
way up in the tree of life

Love,
Rev. MoonPie

warmthageddon

paint those apocalypse ruby red
kiss starlight grasses dancing
on cosmic spoken tongues
fairy tails wag for you
their soft cool flutes curling
round the humid poetess
who chants with brilliant spit
an evolution cleansed
begging for merciful awareness
weeping for spirit and bone

these mysteries are gifts
laid before the mother of night
where flowing tissue drums
and wee stars sing
where we speak in eschatongues
because time is on fire
these droning spell-laced winds
arousing the end within
clear white flames swelling
in waves beneath the lush craft
of forest's sympathetic canopy

through such gentle elixir
a bristling narrative stirs
temples open their dripping mouths
and magick vomits into the dark
love is fucking nigh
breathing illume fractal space
bearing children on
the other side of night
the feather
the dark sun
and the holy grift
we are the ancient ones
smiling on our deathbed

Zen Win