Mystic Poet 

THE LOOK OF LOVE, a painting / a poem Past dreams, past hope and fear, The Lord doth wait; I find you here! The strings of your Heart are tuned just so, Not too tight and not too slow, Your life, of service and of love, Colours kisses from above, I...

THE LOOK OF LOVE, a painting / a poem

Past dreams, past hope and fear,

The Lord doth wait; I find you here!

The strings of your Heart are tuned just so,

Not too tight and not too slow,

Your life, of service and of love,

Colours kisses from above,

I love your art: your eyes I see …

Sparkle madly, there for me,

I love your stroke; I love your play …

In the middle … … . of the day!

Sometimes your play takes subtler hues,

Sometimes, I know you’ll never lose,

Your stroke, your strike … poetry in motion …

My friend awaits upon an ocean,

In other days, I’ll think of you,

And tears will come, and kisses too!

THE MYSTIC POET, Monday  {April 3, 2017}

a.k.a.: So Much More!  ❤,d.eWE

Painting + Poem = UNFINISHED PAINTING! 03/09/2017 Thursday Morning, {5:55 A.M.} a.k.a.: “We Are {Maybe} Less Than Dust In The Wind!” a.k.a.: “THE FINAL OFFERING!” a.k.a.: “”All Is Vanity; All Is Vanity; All … Is … Vanity! And, Did I Mention: ALL IS...

Painting + Poem = 

UNFINISHED PAINTING!  03/09/2017  Thursday Morning, {5:55 A.M.}

a.k.a.: “We Are {Maybe} Less Than Dust In The Wind!”


a.k.a.: “”All Is Vanity; All Is Vanity; All … Is … Vanity!  And, Did I Mention: ALL IS VANITY?1″

a.k.a.: “If There’s Nothing Else To Write Or Do, What’s The Point? A: To Feel As Good As Possible In Prison!”

In THE END, Do your best!  Whatever that might mean!

And I do think we can’t do less; The Best? Is All I’ve “seen!”

Some End?  That we, as humans, No Matter How Profound …

Are just insane (pause) … . and to nothing, finally bound!

Upanishads?  Bible Stories?  are all suppressing “meds!”

Simply musings … of insane … sincere, but silly, heads.

Consider ALL the gurus, masters … call them ALL: “PROFOUNDS!?”

They-all have one in-common thing: They put us through “The Rounds!”

The Buddha said: “There is No Truth!”  And this poem falls as well,

But I would offer Rose (Richard) and Watts (Alan) and Alpert (Ram Dass), NOT TO SELL!

All these “mystics” wold NOT charge, a single penny or TWO,

Their insights for the Zen and Hindi!?  Signposts!  Nothing new?!

All concluded, mirth or humor was a good old scheme,

Here’s a compilation, pretty short, their final cream:


There is no Heaven, like John Lennon seemed to kind of know!

Their “fine positions” or opinions, I doubt will ever crash …

And all concluded: WE’RE NOT REAL!  and they did not take cash!

If not eternal … when you finally … get “beyond” your dreams,

You will just return (pause) to God or Void … it seems!

No things to do / no destination / Perhaps a “fatal trip?!”

Which brings us back … JUST DO YOUR BEST, you’re lesser than a blip!

Insanely strive?  IF YOU WISH!  My Friends, I love you so …

Just insane talk and thoughts of smoke … WE HAVE NO PLACE TO GO!


Postscript: I’ll maybe keep on writing, Poems or stories or stuff, But Facebook, striving to advise, I think I’ve had enough … I’ll maybe keep on “tapping,” The Good Ol’ Fashioned Way, But I think that I’ve “seen” too much, Bye, Facebook!  So Long, J …,d.eWE,d.eWE,d.eWE

These are Trey, before … and … after … it happened!  


Entitled: PURPLE RAIN a.k.a.: Trey Is No Longer Gray!

He had a dream of purple rain,

It’s so much more now … to explain:

When he awoke, his life had changed!

All things purple … now arranged!

His dad’s name now? Name was: RED

And mom was then so BLUE instead.

So, Purple was his middle name, 

And all relations, just the same!

They all wore clothes, ate purple stew,

Even toilets – that same hue!

Before, he knew of toilets … white …

But now … all purple …oughta sight!

His hair’s new color …yes, it’s true …  

And even then, his eyes weren’t blue!

When Trey was sick … and snot came out,

‘Twas only purple … but … please don’t pout!

Purple might describe each day …

BUT … it was better than the gray!

THE MYSTIC POET, March 1st 2 0 1 7  … “Kickin’ it off!”,d.eWE

Another poem … this one entitled: “THE DEEPLY CARING POEM!” With apologies to everyone and everything … Dedicated to and inspired by M! a.k.a.: “In Search Of A Care Package!” a.k.a.: “My Stomach Is Upset - What Me Worry?!” a.k.a.: “IF I Were In The...

Another poem … this one entitled: 


 With apologies to everyone and everything …

Dedicated to and inspired by M!

a.k.a.: “In Search Of A Care Package!”

a.k.a.: “My Stomach Is Upset – What Me Worry?!”

a.k.a.: “IF I Were In The Middle Of The Ocean And I Had Just One Wish … I Would Wish To Be An Island!”  


Here we go (pause) Once Again! (pause) Grab some paper (pause) Grab a pen (pause) Should I care? (pause) If I drown? (p) Seems so certain (p) Why the frown? … .

And, NOW, for the body of this-here poem:

Should I care (pause)

If I die? (pause)

Bound to happen? (pause)

OrNot? (pause)

Le Sigh! (pause)

Does appear (p) Control ain’t here!  Should I care? (p) Always near! (p)  Should I care (p) If you love (p) Me?-I can’t (p) Force the Dove! (p) I don’t care (p) For our screams! (p) Controlling me? (p) In your beams! (p) Apparent efforts (p) To Control (p) What you like (p) On patrol! (p) Can’t I do (p) what I like? (p) If it doesn’t (p) Break my bike? (p) If it doesn’t (p) Cause some hurt? (p) I don’t care (p) for your yurt! (p) Yet, I think (p) All we do (p) MustHurt “others” (p) I won’t sue! (p) Seems my actions (p) Or their lack (p) Always hurts (p) Something, Jack! (p) I don’t care (p) For uncertain (p) Seems inherent (p) In this curtain (p) Try to do (p) The-best with strife! (p) ButWho can stand (p) A nagging life? (p) I think I care (p) If there’s focus (p) At the time (p) Hocus pocus!? (p) If I didn’t (p) Could I do? (p) This, I think! (p) What of you? (p) Now, for instance (p) I must care (p) For this poem (p) Or I’d tear (p) Up this paper (p) Lose the pen (p) Don’t I care? (p) For what I am ? (p) I don’t like (p) All this screaming (p) ButDon’t I care (p) when I’m beaming ? (p) With some anger (p) And upset? (p) I must care (p) This, I’ll bet! (p) I don’t care (p) To upset be (p) At my life (p) Or you or me!(p) But don’t I care )(p) About it, when (p) I go bonkers (p) Once again? (p) What you do (p) IsItOverThere? (p) I’ve tried to alter (p) Do YOU care? (p) Whate’er you want (p) separate be? (p) Should I care? (p) Controlling me! (p) Why care NOW? (p) If quite beyond (p) My ability (p) To use my wand ? (p) Who am I? (p) And who are you ? (p) Who’s in charge? (p) I have no clue! (p) What is true (p) And what is not? (p) Seems beyond (p) What I’m taught! (p) Life right here (p) Seems topsy-turvy (p) Twisting – turning – awf’lly curvy (p) When I fall (p) Into the sea (p) How the waves (p) Buffet me! (p) I’m a wave (p) Upon your mind (p) And intentions (p) Still I find (p) Your intention (p) Is it one? (p) With my being ? (p) Oh, what fun! (p) I don’t care (p) And I do (p) Sweet Confusion! (p) I LOVE YOU! ❤,d.cGw


OK?! In bed or out, with smile or pout, we all just want the same, For just one soul, To say they know, That we are quite insane! Despite it all, They will still call, And tell us that they like: The way we look, The way we smell, And they won’t take...


In bed or out,

with smile or pout,

we all just want the same,

For just one soul,

To say they know,

That we are quite insane!

Despite it all,

They will still call,

And tell us that they like:

The way we look,

The way we smell,

And they won’t take a hike!

because, despite our this and that,

We’re good for one more lay: 

“With pee or poo and this is you

I love it anyway! 

October 9, 2016.,d.cWw

100 Ways I Figured That You Can Kill Yourself

{dedicated to my hero, Alan Watts}

Hi, I am J Samuel Davis. Why my father Samuel gave me that name, I guess I will never know; he said that he was inspired to do it because he knew some lawyers that just had an initial as their first name and he thought it would be a good idea for his son to be a lawyer!  Of course, the lawyers he knew probably had a “regular” name like John or Richard or Simon, and, thus, they ended up with corresponding names like: J. Lawrence Tyler, R. Clarence McKenna and S. Porter Stanley, respectively.  My given name, on the other hand, has no real name that the “J” represents! Why?  I have no idea, and, as has been suggested to me, the question “Why” is ridiculous because, in this realm of existence, no one really knows the answer of why anything happens or why it exists.  All we APPEAR able to do is to speculate … endlessly, from the beginning of our apparent existence until, apparently, that existence is terminated.  There is just what happens, apparently, and it is all apparently beyond our control. Of course, we appear to be able to believe our speculations about aspects of our existence, even to the point that those speculations provide us with a “peace of mind” that seems to be able to justify our existences and what we do to prolong them. I live in far West Texas … a place called Alpine, Texas, in an unusual, barbarous, cocky country called the United State of America.  This country, and the people inhabiting it, is known for the persecution of a culture called the American Indians, until guilt overcame the populous and the Indians were allowed to reassert their cultural values, the importation of people from Africa to work as slaves, until guilt overcame the slave holders, or their neighbors, and those slaves were “freed” and provided with the means to “take over” the country, via political control, physical superiority and other means, “scientific” and medical “innovations,” designed to “improve” the condition of the humans and their environment, ultimately leading to apparent destruction of everything, and a host of other anomalies, including something called “fast food,” which is a man-made substance, incorporating chemical substances that render these materials extremely tasty . . and, as many assert, largely toxic and ultimately destructive and mutative of everything they encounter, leading, ultimately, to the taint-ation  of all that used to be “natural” food.

Imagine being pretty much all alone, for over 3 years, with suicidal idea-tions hundreds of times each day. No medication.  Just sitting with it!  Well, that is what this delightful story is about.  If you ever need ideas on how to “off” yourself, assuming I get past “Chapter 1,” this book is for you!  I should have, perhaps, named the book “LOL.”  Plus, I still get to fall into that state on fairly numerous occasions at this time.  Maybe not as much, but, still, possibly more than you, Gentle Reader, will ever know! Or, I could have entitled this book, “Shalom.”  Perhaps you will understand, if you decide to continue … and read this “blessed/accursed” thing!

Please realize that this writing is simply a therapeutic attempt to “bring the inside to the outside,” as some have said.  I hesitate to allow any of you that are “faint of heart” to indulge in these fantastic horrors.  However, all I can do is suggest that you use your own, best judgment; And I wish you the best … all of you, really.  I hope no one ever has to be in “the place” that promotes this sort of mental imagery UNLESS you have the mechanisms to deal with it without apparently self-destructing.  I view myself, by the way, as, possessing “faintness of heart,” and not just a little … but one Helluva lot.   No one knows what the future holds!  (… or do they?)  Shalom means “Peace!”  Ha!  LOL!


I can only write this down and describe what IS happening RIGHT NOW.  I appear to be at an apparently low point.  I do not believe I am at “the low of low points!”  It is the lowest point I BELIEVE I have ever been at … yet, I feel certain that I will be invited to even lower points, as I have been in the past … lower and lower points, and I somehow imagine that, at some point, doesn’t a really destitute person have to reach the breaking point … and then that is where they kill themselves.  Isn’t that the “way of the psychotic world?”  It is not sadness; that would almost to be acceptable, I think, because, perhaps then, I could cry.  But here, there are no tears.  There IS only hopelessness, helplessness and fear … greater than anything I could have ever imagined when I was young.  I KNOW there is no future, no stability and I am completely manipulated and controlled by something that feels completely beyond me.  I do not believe any of this!  I KNOW it.  What I believe is that, within a relatively short period, I will achieve a state of consciousness where I KNOW that everything will be all right.  It will then be not a believing, but a knowing of that thing; however, what I have just described, is what I believe RIGHT NOW. In this state, not even, really, believing in God or existence itself, I still shout to some God for help.  I imagine I am experiencing exactly the description of how Jesus felt on the cross, declaring, “My father, my father, why have you forsaken me?”  It is absolute; I am lost and alone and I have no hope.  Period.  I will continue to try to eat, think and complete the day, hoping for the most rapid ending, BELIEVING that tomorrow, perhaps, will bring a temporary reversal.  I believe, as has been the case countless times before … apparently, that, within a few hours, I will be so certain that everything will be fine, that I will KNOW THAT (i.e.: That everything WILL be just fine!) … and this will be without doubt, and I will even act confident and cocky, believing that I REALLY CAN be stable and hopeful and that life truly has meaning.  Yet I will also reflect, in that moment, that the hopelessness that I feel now has returned over and over, with certainty and power, as it impacts this apparent me right now.  Somehow, in that confident state, I will just KNOW that it (i.e.: hopelessness) can never happen again because I will be SO CONFIDENT of it!

SKIP AHEAD A FEW HOURS … or … BACK A FEW HOURS!  … or … for God’s sake (yuk, yuk) … forget about time!

My life NOW has no meaning, I wish to be dead only and I am sorry that I was ever born, ever brought into this existence.  I will try to eat something and come back to this writing, a few hours from no …NOW is apparently 3:55 P.M., with ABSOLUTE HOPELESSNESS, ABSOLUTE ABANDONMENT, and it is apparently …Saturday, June 6, 2015.

It is 7:56 A.M., Sunday, June 7, 2015, and I am compelled to write this.  It makes no difference.  I can not answer the “Why” of why I am writing this. Two things occur to me: a song lyric from the rock group Queen: “Nothing really matters … at all,” and the quote from the Christian Bible: “All is vanity.”

Let’s see.  I was able to sleep, at least to close my eyes and descend into what was seeming unconsciousness.  I now feel enough energy to get up and move around in somewhat of an easy fashion.  I really do not want to write this exactly, yet I do.  I really do not know what to do with the time that is given me.  I really do not WANT to eat or get on Facebook or do artwork or write or be in existence.  I would prefer to be dead because I have no hope for anything of any value in some apparent future; thus, why continue … right?!  I do not know why the world is the way it is.  I do not know why people are “out there,” doing what they are doing, thinking what they are thinking, except they are all conditioned to be doing what they are doing, as I am.  They perceive relative value in their lives, based on their conditioning and they derive satisfaction from continuing on and they are not prepared or willing to “die,” either because they fear what that state represents or they fear the pain of it or they are conditioned to avoid it … I do not know. I am not sure I care, or that I even want to ask these questions of “Why,” because I feel certain there are no real answers … just speculations, as I have written.

In this state, I guess, I feel the need to just keep doing something, to continue to go along with what I consider to be “the whims” of the people around me because, I guess, they are so certain of the certainty and value of their existences that they would impose them on me.  I THINK my preference, which I feel certain I do not have, is that I might ask them to offer me what they call here “euthanasia,” but that option does not appear available right now.  Perhaps I would not opt for it in this state I am in right now; perhaps that is because of my conditioning, being taught about the “sanctity” of life or the value of life, which I have so often vainly clung to.  However, in the state I was in yesterday afternoon, given the severity of the mental anguish, death then, as I recall, was a compelling desire, to end the suffering, which I am told is my own doing, and, therefore, I should be able to overcome that condition.  This, of course, I think, and I am REALLY not sure, is the speculation of those who are conditioned to BELIEVE what they do about suffering and, I think, have found what they BELIEVE is real value and enough “peace of mind,” or contentment, in their lives, which justifies continuation, not just for them, but for everyone and everything in their lives that they believe holds the fabric of their existence together.  Well, the fabric of my existence, to me, seems to be irreparably torn or disintegrated (perhaps it always was torn, but I was conditioned to look away by burying the obvious vileness of my existence in some unconscious pockets of my “psyche,” wherever or whatever that is).

I anticipate that the day will progress, and I will continue to live “under protest.”  I BELIEVE that I will begin to “feel better,” yet I BELIEVE that is just feeling different, a different mood, more accepting of what is happening around me, etc.  At some point, I imagine I will begin to BELIEVE that I have a future in art or writing or beginning legal work again, but I think I can say here that I KNOW that whatever thoughts or speculations occur to me, however my mood might change to support those speculations, that it will all come crashing down like the proverbial “house of cards,” because I think I KNOW or REALLY BELIEVE that that is all this existence represents. It is all, as Buddhists are said to say, impermanent … illusory . . . it is, as in the Pinocchio story, a carnival, where all “innocents” are ushered into a ride infested environment, replete with candied apples and cotton candy, and the apparently once untainted organisms are converted into what the all the carnival barker are … jackasses, ready then to go into the world as “functional” automatons, prepared to do the bidding of whatever cultural their significant others are already immersed in.  And, if the immersion does not take place with sufficient completeness to assure relative “peace of mind,” the hapless victim(s) must then be further conditioned, either by, in this Brave New World, mind-altering drugs, more powerful methods of indoctrination, called cults or psychological counseling or any kind of intense, indoctrinating counseling or imprisonment, especially in the United State of America, because any deviation from very narrow parameters must be swiftly dealt with.  These consequences, I BELIEVE, are what I have been trying to hide from these last several years, because I seem to KNOW that I have no place in this existence, in this arrangement, especially given the mood swings I encounter, which, to others, certainly appears to just be mental aberrations or a game that I am playing.  And, perhaps, I have no idea … really … perhaps it IS just a game I am playing, BUT … it certainly FEELS real!  Perhaps it is such a good game, that the game is now playing me. I certainly look back on my life and believe that, as in my youth, where I thought “things were OK,” it was just because I had been so conditioned or had so conditioned myself or both that things were OK, that I absolutely believed it and was perfectly willing to just go along with everything and everybody BELIEVING that things were kind of sort of all right in the world and there was a benevolent God in “the heavens,” and the government was on the up-and-up, or, at least, the party of my choice or, at the very least, the justice system, that would prevent “bad” elements from invading the sanctity of my existence and that of my family, who all loved me very much and wanted only “the best” for me … which, of course, amounted to something called “family values,” the things that gave me such comfort when I was growing up, having Sunday dinners with my grandparents and playing in the backyard with my family and friends and masturbating to exhaustion!

Now, given enough despondency, … .  the only God I am kind of aware of is … the “Force” of life that animates everything around me that appears to be alive and functioning. Everyone is a manifestation of that God, and, therefore, that God can give me a big hug and tell me he or she loves me one day and can then tell me to “hit the road, Jack,” later in the day or tomorrow.  It is the same God, manifesting in someone cursing me or cutting my head off or medicating me until I can no longer write these words and then putting me in an institution for observation, until there is sufficient justification to believe I will be docile enough not to cause anyone too much concern, as long as, the moment I begin to panic or begin “clear-headed” enough to feel compelled to write words like these, I can be “dosed” again sufficiently to bring me “back” to a “better” state, the state where I will not write such words or think such thoughts, where I can simply declare that the world is not such a bad place, or everyone has their problems, or all that happens is “God’s will,” and there are many wonderful things we can do here (in the carnival or cabaret of life} to make our lives valuable and safe and “this is no dream, this is no carnival, we are free and we have free will and life, existence, is really worth living and eradicating cancer is a very good thing, because that terrible disease causes so much suffering, and we can fight those things that tend to erode our happiness and the happiness of those “we love.”

NOW … for my “EFT offering!”  I have been doing EFT, where you supposedly help yourself to emotionally “get better,” by touching places on your body to help remove energy blocks, “bad” emotions and feeling that prevent you from feeling life is truly valuable.  Tap until they go away … or until you pass out.  It is a form of something called “hypnosis,” or “mesmerism,” which I BELIEVE is what all forms of conditioning represent.  Even “getting a good’ job” is a form of hypnosis, to establish for yourself something of worth and value in yourself, to make you feel that you have a place in the world and can function, feeling fulfilled.  Or having a child and forming a family.  Wholesome, desirable things, that fill us with warm, fuzziness … that can perpetuate the feeling of relative well-being we need to not begin questioning our existence, compelling us to write things like this or going to “an ashram” in India or compelling us to go to Guatemala to help give “the unfortunate, backward natives” “proper” medical and dental care, so they can become so addicted to those procedures that they are, therefore, unable to moderately function without the necessity of seeking medical advice and intervention and treatment, which, of course, appears to be into what most all of us “here in the West,” were born INTO, being as we were mostly born in hospitals and, initially, pumped full of drugs, even while in the womb.

Now, then, the question: Where do we go from here? This is one I have been asking for what I BELIEVE has been too many years now.   And, I have concluded, there is no answer.  Yet, I am convinced that my parents, well-meaning as they might be, believe it is either: compel yourself to get off the pity pot and get out there and start experiencing the world again and take advantage of your opportunities and get over yourself . . . or find some relief at the bottom of any of an infinite variety or pill bottles or in the office of very sophisticated analysts or spiritual counseling, and, then, reintroduce yourself back into “society,” or just try to be calm and just sit there because we always want you to have “a safe place” where you can rest your head.  Of course, now, Jesus Christ, assuming such a fellow or gal ever existed, said, “I have no place to rest my head.”  Not that I am any more Jesus than anyone else, including inmates in the state penitentiary, but these are just the sorts of things that appear to occur to me, and I have no idea where they are coming from, why I should write them down, or anything else.  Life is, for lack of a “better” term … very distressing, no, INFINITELY DISTRESSING, and I have no idea where to go from here, nor have I really ever … know … I BELIEVE, although time and time again I have BELIEVED that I knew where to go.  However, in retrospect, the direction of where to go or how to proceed appears to have always been provided by a combination of family values, based, largely on religious and cultural indoctrination, and my own interpretation, or speculation, of how those BELIEFS might be applied in my life. And over and over again I have run into a proverbial “brick wall,” on which is written: “Ha, ha, stupid … you have fouled up again … you believed that you could find ‘peace of mind’ by proceeding in this direction.  Once more you have failed to find any ultimate value in or answers about ‘life,’ so, hit your head against this wall for a while, and, then, turn around and proceed in some other direction, where you will find another brick wall … and another … and another … ha, ha … EVERYBODY HAS THEIR PROBLEMS, and you are no more important than anyone else … and you just need to ‘get with the program!’  Your are an idealistic idiot … . ”  LOL!

So now I have to do something, I guess. This the 7th day of June 2015.  I have written this, describing my apparent condition right now.  Yesterday afternoon, when I wrote the words you might have read “somewhere ages and ages hence,” I recall writing that I was ABSOLUTELY HOPELESS, HELPLESS AND FEARFUL, or something close to that.  Now, I am in what I believe is a similar state of mind, but now with some apparently functional energy … enough rope, you might say, to hang myself.  So what do I do now?  Keeping eating, keep doing EFT “tapping,” force myself or find myself compelled for wanting to avoid boredom to get on Facebook, check my e-mails, ATTEMPT to begin a life or doing artwork or writing things or, maybe, starting up an activist group to fight cancer, or the medical abuses concerning cancer treatment or Jihad-ist beheadings?!  All you have to decide is what you are going to do with the time you have “been given.” Gandalf, from “Lord of the Rings!”  However, my apparent functionality to do any of those things will I BELIEVE I KNOW, I know, will be essentially terminated for some period of time in a few hours.  What would you do?  That is perhaps the most stupid question someone like me could ask under these conditions because, as is apparent, I have been asking that question since I was young.  And, based on the combination of the answer(s) I received and how I decided to apply that information, I have been brought to this apparently impossible, debilitating, suffering state . .. which, as I said I have been told, is all my own doing … and, even now, I am told, from time to time, that I must decide what to do next BASED ON MY OWN BEST JUDGMENTS, which I look at and perceive as being entirely inadequate to navigate an existence which appears to have no way of navigation because it appears we are stuck in the middle of where we do not know where we are at or what we are doing … and the only option apparently open to us is to, in this impossible state, BELIEVE in something that can give us “peace of mind,” or a false sense of security … because here, it appears to me (Do I know?  I DO NOT KNOW!), if we do not find ourselves brainwashed to overlook any of these terrible speculations I am presenting, we must be effectively silenced, so as not to affect the general population with any hysteric doubts about the value and worth of this apparent existence.

Where do we go from here?  I imagine someone reading this, that is “stable,” ha, ha, in the world, hoping they remain in that ignorant state (Ignorance is bliss., I guess)  … can read this crap … and then say, “Well, I am surely glad I have such a firm ‘faith” in my beliefs . . . thus, this really does not affect me! That ‘boy’ certainly has some problems. I hope he gets ‘better.’  He might try my philosophy or religion or life-style or world view because it certainly has worked for me … maybe he just needs to get ‘better’ food, more fresh air, sunshine … but, definitely, a different attitude about things … an attitude … like mine!“

Radical hypnosis … if what you were exposed to early on does not take hold sufficiently to pacify the “demons” of doubt and uncertainly and questioning when you are in your impressionable youth, the means of rendering you functional later on, even WITHOUT physical or psychological “problems,” are liable to be difficult, if not impossible, in the extreme.  “BUT, Children of the Corn, vee have vays of dealing with these sorts of things!”  Adolf Hitler . . or Geroge W. Bush {a.k.a.: Don Chaney} … or mommy and daddy … or Dr. Strangelove!

I am in a state of panic and terror right now, as I write this uselessness.  Later in the day, I believe (it is 9:20 A.M. now) I BELIEVE … I will have a somewhat different mood and may not be in such panic and terror.  However, I think I can say I KNOW that, within another f – – – – – g few hours, I will be suicidal and essentially immobile, sitting by myself, a shaking, quivering, fearful mass, as I was yesterday afternoon and have been so many, many times in the past … in a state that is indescribable, really, that I could never, ever have imagined myself ever to have been in when I was in my glorious youth, attending high school, playing basketball with my cousin Billy, or going fishing with my dad.  Where do we go from here?  I still … even after all this time … I still WISH I KNEW, I guess! … or I imagine that I would like to “know,” imagining that would somehow end this eternal night!  BUT . . it does NOT end …that is my declaration and my truth.  Ha, ha!  LOL!  I guess I believe there is no place to go.  You simply are where you are at, doing whatever it is you are ALLOWED to do, so to speak.  For, it certainly appears, whatever is writing this, whatever is experiencing all this terror and concern, has no real idea of what is really going on or why, if that is even a question that can ever be asked sanely … Do NOT expect it to be answered, Sports Fans!  

Why am I writing this?  Because I am … writing this . .  that is all I get.   I do not want to be here … I do not really want to be writing this … I am just spending time … feeling compelled … to do something, while spending time.  Some part of me just wants to “fit in.”  Is there some value to uncovering the shroud of beliefs that keeps everyone in a state of relative peace and satisfaction?  Is there any value when I really do not KNOW that what I am saying has any more truth in it than any other beliefs.  From time to time, it appears, other people (not that I am in “their leagues”) have proposed radical departures from everything else!  Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism, for instance, who, approached by an angel in his vision, asked which was the one true religion or way of life, and was told that “they are all an abomination!”  Well, I BELIEVE that Joseph then set out to perpetuate just another abomination, then. But are any of these religions or ideologies or philosophies really abominations?  Aren’t they all just efforts apparently by humans to give themselves a little peace of mind, give themselves a little false hope … or the most real hope they might be able to muster … so their existences have purpose or meaning?  Without that, without something to prop up this human existence, wouldn’t there just be mass hysteria and suicide?  And would that be so bad?  I have no idea!  If I could really destroy humanity and all the structure it has erected … and return everything to the instinctual whim of nature and the animals … would I do it?  I think I might … because I BELIEVE that everything human “kind” has tried to do, in the name of making things “better” has only led to where things are now … which is what I BELIEVE to be an absolutely terrible state of things, not deserving of being perpetuated in any sense!  For it appears to … make no sense! 

God, the life force, however, I BELIEVE … is completely neutral.  “It” just creates and destroys, in a so-called “intelligent,” non-thinking fashion … it is as unaffected by beheadings as it is by bar mitzvahs … or beer busts … or births.  It is just apparently operating … apparently … imagining all of this … somehow … just experiencing . . . existing and non-existing … all at the same time … and at no time at all … in a “perfect” state of rest … or non-rest … and any speculation about what is occurring … or not occurring … is completely irrelevant to its existence … non-existence … .  Do you, perhaps, imagine where this is going?  It is leading, apparently . .. inevitably … into another brick wall, right!?  And, I suppose, if I write anything more in this story, this is what my dad, or manager, would call The Preface! I guess I will scroll up to the top, therefore, and label it as such!


CHAPTER 1 (Hanging From The Backyard Tree)


Take my birth name: J Samuel Davis.  What does the “J” stand for?  I do not know; I really do not.  Therefore, perhaps, whatever I say it means.  It could be John … or, what my mom decided to “name”  me … Jay … or … Jesus (perhaps I am His reincarnation … yea, sure, what did I dream the next night).  Of course, what about Judas … and maybe Judas and Jesus are/were the same “person!”  Anyway, who cares?  So, maybe I’m Judas … Now there is a name.  In my “farm raised” religion, the worst name of all.  The one who, in Dante’s “Inferno” is trapped with “Satan” in the lowest ring of Hell!  Encrusted in ice … forever . . . to punish him for, perhaps, the worst crime in history … “betraying” the Only Begotten Son of God, which, arguably, ALL of us do EVERYday!  So, Sports Fans, are you ready for The Divine to encrust y’all in a sheet of ice?  Ha, ha … it was not enough that goofy old Judas, the poor sod, committed suicide (perhaps the unpardonable sin) by hanging himself … from a tree. Jesus hung “from a tree,” or a cross, made of tree wood, so . . . how fitting … that this miserable person of whom Jesus said, “It would have been better if he had never been born,” allowing “Satan” to enter into him via a piece of sanctified bread, for the purpose of compelling him to betray “the master.”  The same Judas who, in the movie “Dracula 2000,” with high praise for Gerard Butler’s portrayal, got to hang … and hang again … and then burn up unto oblivion … as a detestable “vampire.”  Judas, what a guy … as my ex-brother-in-law has often referred to me: “What a guy!”  When BIG BOB, my ex-brother-in-law, who believes everyone needs lots of good ol’ “Jungian counseling,” tells me “what a guy” I am, I have pretty much always shuttered with a terrible feeling, like he was condemning me, somehow, to that lowest ring of Hell … I do not even know why, but it is as if he was “putting a curse” upon me … similar to my little sister, who has commented that she imagines me as the hapless antagonistic in the terrible movie “Thinner,” where a man, cursed by a gypsy he unfortunately “disrespected” somehow, starts losing weight, getting thinner and thinner, until . .  well, you can just read a summary on Wikipedia … a curse, then, upon me, the one who has always been so anxious about medical procedures, treatment options and the A.M.A., one of many of our sacrosanct cultural institutions, the bedrock upon which America civilization has “flourished,” especially this past century; after all, doctors seem to “flourish,” and many of them are on many of the same drugs they prescribe for their “patients” and willingly undergo many of the same operations they perform on their patients.  What an interesting state of affairs!  

So, imagine Judas on the tree … who, I bet, even if anxiety medication had been offered back then, and I am assuming anything of that biblical story is actually real, would have resisted the offer of a little red or blue pill.  Those Morpheus-like, Jewish officials he apparently conspired with, before he executed himself …I imagine them, like our kindly doctors, offering a little pain relief (30 pieces of mind-altering “stuff,” the gold standard of mental and physical pain relief!)  … for eradication of your every physical discomfort and … the “smoothing out” of any extreme mental anguish.  

I mean, imagine Judas at your own peril, whatever the Hell that means!  Perhaps his memory means different things to you, Gentle Reader, depending upon the circle of Hell you are in … assuming you think you are in Hell or not.  Can a person believe they are not in Hell because they have been so conditioned or blinded to the “reality” of their situation that they can see what others might see as Hell as a perfectly fine little place because that is their conditioned “reality,” and aren’t all realities here really just conditioned apparent realities, based upon the belief systems that have been so apparently, so judiciously implanted in our fertile, bewildered little minds?  Now, there is a great trick … and, as mentioned, would certainly support the idea that “ignorance is bliss.”  

Ignorance … is it not preferable to Hell? Perhaps so, which might certainly suggest that reading this piece … or, especially, writing it (of course, once it is recognized to be able to be written, it is TOO LATE … isn’t it?) is not a very good idea … because, as in the movie “Inception,” seeds of thought, planted, especially in those we “love,” to our consternation, can have really disastrous consequences … or, at least, make us not feel too chipper!

So, why am I so twisted around Judas?  Well, just take my name: J Samuel Davis … birth name . .  May 30, 1956 …Now, watch this … compliments of my fertile little mind: J (Sam) U (el) D A (vi) S …ta da!  Just perfect …in order and All That Jazz!

Now, then, whether I am Judas’ incarnation, if you believe in that ball of crap called reincarnation, which. I mean, if those highly spiritual sages in India believe in that stuff, it MUST be twoo, or not …may be irrelevant.  I really do not believe any more in Hell or reincarnation or anything anymore … at least no more than motherhood and apple pie.  Everything is a blooming story.  Life is not real … never was, never will be … but we are a deluded lot.  However, let me make a suggestion … only a suggestion … do what you want, Sports’ Fans!  MAKE THE BEST YOU CAN OF YOUR LIFE.  TRY NOT TO HURT OR DAMAGE TOO MUCH AROUND YOU. IF YOU CAN … FIND A FRIEND. AND GIVE THEM SOME HUGS AND KISSES … IF YOU STILL HAVE THE ABILITY TO DO THAT … BECAUSE … THAT IS REALLY GREAT.  I MEAN, IF YOU ARE STUCK HERE … LIKE YOU DO NOT FEEL YOU CAN TRULY KILL YOURSELF BECAUSE (IN THE WORDS OF SHAKESPEARE)  “… CONSCIENCE MAKES COWARDS OF US ALL,“ THEN FIND A FRIENDLY DOG, AT LEAST, AND … GIVE IT A KISS.  I THINK I CAN GUARANTEE YOU SOMETHING … AND I CAN NOT GUARANTEE MUCH … IF … IF … YOU CAN, AT LEAST GIVE THE DOG … OR CAT … A KISS, THEN I BET YOU WILL FEEL BETTER … AT LEAST YOU MIGHT FEEL STUPID ENOUGH TO LAUGH AT YOUR PATHETIC, BEAUTIFUL SELF!

So, I go out to the garage/work room in my Parents’ Big House, and they are gone to the market, or church, or a concert … or to visit Mr. and Mrs. Rusty Herman for tea and crumpets!  I get a rope … I try to remember how to tie a hangman’s noose … I go back outside … I throw the rope over one of the branches of the over-sized pine tree next to The Little House (that tree may crush that house someday … unless I can summon the courage to, ever so gently, cut off some branches), and tie it.  I go into The Little House and get a chair from the meal table … bring it outside …

. . . place the chair on the grass and pine needles, underneath the rope and branch.  I try to step up on the chair, place the rope around my neck … tighten it … and … then try to scoot the chair away from me.  With the chair gone, I am suddenly at the end of my rope!  Whoopee!  

(Actually, I own very little … the rope, of course, belongs to my Dad.)  I gasp a little … before becoming unconscious.  Just before I pass out, I wonder how Mom and Dad will feel when the come back into the backyard … they will look over to the right … and see a dangling body that apparently used to be their animated son, I guess!  Ain’t that a kick!  Ain’t that just terrible?  This life … really needs to be transcended, somehow; doesn’t it!  BUT … I don’t believe in transcendence of any sort either … All is vanity … and … I … am the vainest piece of crap I know!  Smile, though your Heart is breaking!  Love, peace and joy … your friend … J.    a.k.a.: LOL!  🙂   


CHAPTER 2 (Off the Roof & Head First Into the Bed of the Ram Pick-up)


There is a ladder leaning against the patio roof. Dad uses it to get up on the roof, to especially get the air conditioner, the “swamp cooler,” ready for use in the summer.  He cleans out the plastic water conduits and replaces the “hay” filters … at least I think it is something like hay.  It certainly smells good when that cooler is first turned on (and for the next couple days)!

DON’T BE SCARED! A Poem … 4 U … My Dear, take a breath … and we’ll rest, Just know that you have quite the best, Of all means to move forward with Love, Since we’re all well equipped “from above!” You’ve questioned this matter of Heart, And been...

DON’T BE SCARED!  A Poem … 4 U …

My Dear, take a breath … and we’ll rest,

Just know that you have quite the best,

Of all means to move forward with Love,

Since we’re all well equipped “from above!”

You’ve questioned this matter of Heart,

And been simply urged to depart!

Given things that you know,

Shouldn’t ever be so,

You’re led to distrust from the start!

Now, given the matter of guides,

Perhaps you’ve experienced rides,

The “good” minister states:

“Only godliness rates,

And The Spirit with you seldom sides!”

However please contemplate this:

There is nothing received ‘cept a kiss:

You’ve got what You need,

And you don’t have to read …

To determine the things that you miss!

It’s always been here {pause} … 

In your Heart … very near, 

But the World done covered it up!

Yet, with no real sweat,

The shroud’s weak, you can bet,

Just a glance and you’ll find a full cup.

Know that your cup’s filled with joy,

For each little girl and boy,

Don’t you think it’s high time,

That we ended this rhyme, …

Since we have uncovered their ploy?,d.eWE

THE MYSTIC POET.  August 19, 2016   

Restatement:  “The Holy Spirit Is Always With You … and, another way of looking at THE sin against IT, may be to imagine that the only sin is simply following someone else’s urgent, serious advice!  It is no great shakes to respond, by saying: ‘Well, that is an interesting point of view as to what I should do … I shall definitely consider all sensible alternatives!’ Then, proceed with what you are comfortable with … or … just wait!”  The Mystic Poet …


“He who laughs … lasts!”  Anonymous.  

YOU DID SOMETHING TO ME … {and I want you to sit down here, so we can talk about it!} A Poem … THE BLACK BEAR IS SEATED … AT A PICNIC TABLE, NO LESS: I thought you really liked me, but now I know you’re bad, You used to make me happy … but now, YOU...

YOU DID SOMETHING TO ME … {and I want you to sit down here, so we can talk about it!}   A Poem … 


I thought you really liked me, but now I know you’re bad,

You used to make me happy … but now, YOU MADE ME SAD!

You changed a lot, I don’t know why & now I shed a tear . .

And always I would call you … something close to “Dear!”

It really is beyond me … that once you were my Friend,

But now I hope you fry in Hell – and have a bitter end!


There is hunger is your eyes, my Dearest, Kindest Friend,

I don’t think Love’s the culprit …  perhaps you wish my end.

However you interpret … my coy and wily ways,

I never meant to wrong you, perhaps it was a daze!

Perhaps the wrong you think I did was only YOUR reaction … 

To things I do that in the past would not create a faction!

THE MYSTIC POET rides again …08/12, 2016

One day later:  The Black Bear sent a note to Bambi; it read: “I would like to have you for dinner on Thursday … are you available?”  Bambi never responded, deciding, instead, to go to Bear-muda, which is a place, believe it or not, where the only bears might be in zoos!  Our deer Friend lived there to an age unimaginable because there was, really, almost a total absence of stress!,d.eWE

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