the function
the knowledge
the development
the awakening
human being of the universe.

history
justice
love
god
the method
the concepts
the human alcohol.

the animal
the uniforms
the fact
the substance.

the good ones
the false people
the ventilator
the safe rotation predetermined by the universe.

a fish
a whale
the surface
the circuit
the number.

the good people
the pure
the unspiritual instruction.

the zombie
the jesus
the birth of the papa of the sky
our new age of the inoperative man.

the enormous game
the audio one
the marks of the attraction.

the truth
the servant
the attention with perspective
the instrument of the development
the eyes of the humanity.

the commerce of god
the god of the mind
god is the alcohol
the scare of the age.

(PDF version)

I’ve posted some preview material on my web site at rickbelden.com/new_book, including an excerpt from the introduction and some of the poems that appear in the book.

I’m also making preview copies of the complete manuscript available to those who’d like an early look. Please see rickbelden.com/new_book for information about getting a preview copy.

he went to work every day in the new moon werewolf factory
which specialized in producing mechanical men
prone to blown gasket meltdowns.

living with dynamite dick was like
eating a barbed wire sandwich
while soaking in an acid bath hot tub
during a thunderbolt crossfire.

his mouth was a non-stop blasphemy festival.

he was a walking argument with god
and his obstinance was rewarded
with numerous lightning rod enemas.

dynamite dick fell in love with a french kiss steamroller
and used his powers of hostility to turn her into an angry farm girl.

he ordered a standup fistfight
but found himself in a tunnel vision break dance
and wound up in the wish list penalty box
with a bad case of
overload hammerlocks.

dynamite dick was raised by a family of feuding tomahawks
and grew up to be an angry ax.

his childhood was a frozen tar pit full of bellowing dinosaurs
who wanted out and ate anyone who tried to lend a hand.

now dynamite dick works on his prostate scrapbook
and seeks safety in numbness.

his life was a raw deal
and he knew it
and he passed that raw deal on
to everyone he could
every chance he got.

(PDF version)

I’m a spiritual child who grows up
being told + shown that
god is just a sunday morning pain in the ass
waiting for me to screw up
so he can rip my life to shreds.

I’m a passionate child who grows up
being told + shown that
feelings are unacceptable + dangerous
to myself + others.

I’m a creative child who grows up
being told + shown that
adults don’t have time to be creative.

I’m an honest child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m always supposed to tell the truth but
it’s usually safer + more acceptable to lie.

I’m an independent child who grows up
being told + shown that
going my own way leads to rejection + disaster.

I’m an intuitive child who grows up
being told + shown that
I need a logical justification for
everything I do say + feel.

I’m a smiling child who grows up
being told + shown that
laughter is the best medicine but
happy people usually get punished somehow.

I’m an energetic child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m not doing enough because I’m lazy.

I’m a gifted child who grows up
being told + shown that
my contributions aren’t very important in this world.

I’m a curious child who grows up
being told + shown that
self-awareness endangers the family
so I’d better not question things too much.

I’m a patient child who grows up
being told + shown that
there’s not enough time
I’m going too slow
everyone’s tired of waiting for me.

I’m a bright child who grows up
being told + shown that
the brain is where it’s at but
people who make a living with their brains
are lazy bastards.

I’m a trusting child who grows up
being told + shown that
I don’t deserve to be trusted + trust
opens the door to abuse.

I’m a hopeful child who grows up
being told + shown that
life is a series of unhappy events + disasters
so don’t expect too much.

I’m an innocent child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m a bad boy + I oughta be ashamed of myself.

I’m an open-hearted child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’ll never be good enough
I’ll never be loved enough
I’ll never be man enough.

I’m a sad frightened
lonely needy
raging hurting child.

(PDF version)

spirituality is a vibrant awakening consciousness
a deep and present awareness of ourselves
of everyone and everything around us
it’s knowing that our words and our actions matter
even when no one hears and no one sees
it’s listening to the heart and the mind and the body
to moon stars sun and trees
to wind fire rain and earth
to animals and plants
to dreams and daydreams
to grief and anger and hunger and sex
to all of the feelings we’ve been told not to have
and all of the thoughts we’ve been taught not to think
in the right balance
in the right time.

spirituality demands critical thinking
it requires curiosity
a desire to know what’s real
a willingness to strip off conditioned patterns of perception and habit and belief
layer by layer
regardless of personal cost
because otherwise
truth and truthfulness are lost.

spirituality is facing the mysteries of life and death
without hiding from questions that cannot be answered
and without the comfort of tall tales passed down through a million dark nights
it’s knowing that we are not alone
because we’re all here together
and it’s all up to us
together.

(PDF version)

god is a school bus full of strangers
a sixty on the test
a dad who’s always pissed
a mom with scar tissue.

god is a prison guard with rheumatic fever
a flying squirrel in a cage
a deformed colt in a field
a member of the john birch society.

god still lives with his parents
he fights with his brother over pigs
drives a milk truck on saturday to make ends meet
makes me wear an athletic supporter
watches hee-haw and listens to country music
on the radio.

god has a workshop in the basement
he picks the dump and smokes white owls
takes his teeth out when he eats
makes me cry in front of the whole class
stands in our driveway and tells my dad
he’s no good.

god wants to punish me for something I didn’t do.

(PDF version)

I’m in a wild place
squatting naked next to a lake
no other people around
maybe an animal or two
it’s peaceful here
I see my reflection in the water
the face looks cro-magnon
or perhaps neanderthal
but I feel fully conscious
it’s an experience of
wholeness and awe
wonder and peace
maybe my first visit to earth
in a human-like body.

priest

pre-columbian central america
I lead and perform religious rituals
human sacrifice
vivisections
I inflict terrible agonizing physical pain on others
I perform these cruel acts without malice
but also without compassion
motivated by a religious conviction so deep
that it completely disconnects me
from the reality of the suffering I cause.

heretic

europe
middle ages
my head is being held underwater
some religious authority
is attempting to force me to admit something
or perhaps recant or repent some blasphemy
next
I’m in the woods
hung upside down from a tree by my left foot
as punishment
for contradicting the established order
it’s a form of crucifixion.

zealot

europe
1600s
I’m a member of a religious sect that practices self-injury
I drip hot candle wax on my back
I cut myself because the pain “brings me closer to god”
I shove hot pepper up my nose
to make myself sneeze
“to get the devil out”
I allow myself to be mock crucified
when I’m 24 I hang myself “to be with god”
I’m found hanging
from a wooden beam in one of the rooms of the monastery
I am dead
the walls and floors are made of stone.

simpleton

colonial new england
I’m mentally impaired
my neck and hands have been locked in wooden stocks
as punishment for looking at a pretty young girl
my consciousness is primitive
I feel bewildered most of the time
but I find comfort and solace
in a direct experience of nature
standing in a meadow
awes me
calms me
fills me with peace
I have no concept of why I’m being punished
but I have no ill feeling toward anyone about it either.

diplomat

japan
late 1800s
I’m a japanese diplomat
working to open my country to contact with the west
I want to bring the two halves
east and west
together
I want to build a bridge between
old ways and new ways
I hope to be
an ambassador to the future.

assassin

chicago
1920s
a dark alley at night
I’m an enforcer for the mob
a tough guy
a hit man
but this time
someone’s put a hit on me
the nose of a revolver
kisses the skin behind my left ear
someone pulls the trigger
bye bye.

(PDF version)

perhaps we swim with some bigger fish
forms of intelligence far in advance of our own
or maybe just
different
beyond our understanding if not our perception
we may perceive some of them as predatory
we may perceive some of them as benevolent
but no matter how old or powerful they may be
none of them are gods
they’re all instruments of evolution
nothing more
nothing less
just as we are.

(PDF version)

when I look inside I see
dresden and berlin
after the firebombs
tokyo and san francisco
after the big ones
a black and white landscape of rubble and ruin
stretching from horizon to horizon
like a nightmare scene on some faraway planet
abandoned and forgotten by god.

when I look inside I see
a teacher who doesn’t teach
an artist who creates nothing
an explorer who’s afraid to leave the house
a lover with no one to love
a healer with no one to heal
a priest without a god
a body without a soul
a blindfolded boxer lost in the woods
exhausted
throwing punches at nothing.

I came back from the dead into a life that’s not mine
I woke up in a temple that’s been destroyed
I don’t know how I got here or
what to do about it
how do I find my way out of this place
how do I remember who I am.

(PDF version | Video version)

wishing everyone in line ahead of me
would hurry up and keep it short
as I tried to think of anything I’d done that was
so horrible
that I should be required to kneel
in a dark creepy booth
and tell
some spooky faceless stranger behind a screen
all about it
while dad waited out in the car.

for some reason
the requirement to confess wrongdoing
to spooky faceless strangers
in dark creepy booths
didn’t apply to my dad.

despite my best efforts to come up with
an honest list of sins
well
I almost never had anything to say
I mean
I really tried to be a good kid
follow all the rules
get along with everybody
don’t lie
and stay outta trouble
but I knew I wasn’t supposed to walk
into the confessional booth
and say
I hadn’t done anything wrong
the priests had made it very clear
that we were all loaded up with
sins from birth
even little kids like me
so I knew I had to come up with something.

the first few lines were easy
right outta the book
bless me father I have sinned
then
it’s been
(fill in random period of time in weeks months or years)
since my last confession
which would always lead to a bunch of questions from the priest
like
why has it been so long since your last confession
and
how often do you attend mass
followed by some stern rebuking
when I didn’t have the right answers
which I never did
but I knew I wasn’t responsible for any of that
cause I was only a kid
it wasn’t like I could
drive myself to church a couple of times a week
for mass and confession
and I knew I wasn’t supposed to talk with anyone about
what my life was like at home
so I usually made up some stuff I supposedly did wrong
to fill up the rest of the confession time
and get myself out of there in one piece
until the next random confession.

I always figured that making stuff up was
probably a sin too
but it sure felt a lot safer
than going in there with nothing.

(PDF version)