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Tourists don't know where they've been, travelers don't know where they're going.

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Patrick White

Don't Know Where I'm Going

Don't know where I'm going.
Don't care who I am.
No place I need to be.
No face I've got to see.
Don't care if I'm loved.
Don't care if I'm not.
What arises arises mindlessly.
What business has it with me?
Imagination's just another word for free.
Free, free, free at last
I've let my people go.
I walk without a shadow.
There's nothing about tomorrow
that hasn't already passed
and yesterday's a prophecy
of what isn't waiting to come.
One thing suggests another
and worlds are arrayed before me
like the stillness
of the lost feather of the moon
on running water.
I endure my own weather like the sea.
The lightning strikes itself like a match
to take a look
but there's no one to witness the clarity.
I don't taunt my ghost like a man
who's going to live forever.
If I flower I flower.
If I shine I shine.
Whatever appears
in the black and white mirrors
of the infernal or divine
may or may not be
the meaning of my roots.
My affirmation refutes
what my denial ordains
and the cause doesn't
account for its effects.
I am the perfection of all my defects
so enlightenment and ignorance
are two waves of the same awareness in me.
The fool and the sage speak with the same voice.
Desire beatifies my heretics
like lies I've told to the stars
but their election was never a choice
and my wounds don't seek the truth
in the afterlife of my scars.
The old man does not say I am old
nor I am young, the youth.
Autumn is not older than spring
and spring isn't apprenticed to fall.
I can hear my own footsteps
coming down the hall like time
to meet me after all these years of looking
through everyone else's eyes
but even when I take my face off
at the end of the day
like a tired sky
and point to the stars the light concealed
my self-portrait is always a disguise.
And nothing is revealed.

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Patrick White

If You Worry About Where You're Going

If you worry about where you're going
before you go, you're not worthy of the road yet.
If you're not having some black-hearted fun
with your worst nightmares, because they're
just as surrealistically absurd as the bliss
of your most recurring dreams are, how
are you ever going to avoid taking yourself literally?
If you're not crazy enough to wander
through a cemetery saturated with the moon
in the early hours of the morning, trying
to organize a choir of singing gravestones,
how are you ever going to recover a voice of your own?
That dowdy wren you let go of when you first discovered swans?

If you ever want to sweep across the lava plains of the moon
in a rush of emotion of a homecoming ocean,
but you can't feel the tide in a single dropp of water,
you haven't cried enough yet to drown in your own sorrows
and see everybody's life flash before your eyes
as you go down in retrospect, wiser than bubbles
in the way you descend like feathers trying to smile.
O, it's hard here, isn't it. Isn't it brutal at times?
All your beautiful teeth knocked out against a concrete curb?
Inoperable cancer. The savage inexplicability
of the death of children it would be sacrilege
to even think there was an acceptable answer
to appease the loss, to satiate the grief. And I know stones
I've turned over I wished for years I hadn't, things I've seen
that make me wish I'd never been born with eyes,
that have rendered my nemetic courage dysfunctional,
estranged from the Pleiadic radiance of my seeing
as if it were a black farce on tour in Taurus.

But if you want to shine like the fire of a pioneer star
in the clear light of the void, as I keep reminding myself
like a mantra over and over and over again,
you're going to light up the intensity of hell
as readily as you do the cruel immensity of heaven
when it terrifies you with joy. Be a brave boy, I say to myself,
resolved to live all the lives of the Tarot Pack
and then go looking for the cards the Sufis say are missing,
just to say and smile at the end of time, if only to myself,
yes, I played all the stations of my life
as if they were the winning hand of an inveterate gambler
calling my own bluff in an unbeatable casino.
Seven come eleven, I've rolled my prophetic skulls
up against the wall like a printer in inky coveralls
in the back alley delivery entrance of a cosmic newpaper
on its lunch hour, throwing snake-eyes around
like the fang marks of a prison tat turning to Braille.

If you haven't blooded your sword by falling on it yet,
and hemorrhaged by a river wild blue irises, just to add
a little Zen beauty to your death in life experience,
if you haven't felt love slash its nadir across your wrist
and worn it like the talismanic bracelet of an unmentored initiate,
how are you ever going to transit zenith
as if you were crossing the threshold
of that thirteenth house of the zodiac
you raftered with your bones to accommodate your heart,
to cherish your own ashes like the mystery
of the afterlives you had to live through
until you burned like a star that had learned
the art of shining is the art of inexhaustibly letting go?

More doubt in our joy than in our pain, if
you don't learn to ignore your certainty to the point
you disappear into the abyss of an expanding universe,
giving no second thought to whether you exist or not,
with no nostalgic attachment hovering over your emptiness
like the halo of a black hole, how are you
ever going to evolve the mystic green thumb you need
to root sunflowers in the darkness like neighbouring galaxies?
How are you ever going to adapt to the things you cherish
if you can't endure the transformations that come with them?
If you skip the cocoon and go straight to the butterfly,
all you've really done is traded your birds in for a kite
that doesn't know how to sit or sing on the power lines
it's entangled in, nor how to negotiate the wind with wings.
You may glimpse the unattainable, yes, like a moth
at a closed window, wondering what it must be like
to be annihilated in a candle like an old love poem,
but the vision's not sustainable as a way of life of your own
until you've set fire to your own antennae like wicks
that are not consumed by the flame, or extinguished in the rain.

Spiritual diamonds don't forget where they came from,
their perishable beginnings, and though they can shine
like water and rainbows, their clarity smeared
by the chromatic aberrations of their colour-blind telescopes,
they haven't forgotten how to burn like bituminous coal
in a basement furnace, or melt the intensity of their emotions
like a glass river making its way to the sea or how to use
a meteoric explosion as a way of sowing adamantine insights
like seed stars in an immaculate ocean of enlightened awareness,
the life-mask of the inconceivable assuming form
to express itself as an event in time that outgrows itself
transcendentally without a revolution or message for anyone
but itself, thereby ensuring, given our inquisitorial nature,
that everything from stars to rocks to apple trees to humans,
overhears it as a revelation of angelic gossip
waxing the long after-hour halls of a demonic institution
that was founded synarthritically on the cornerstones of our skulls.

Zen might be the taste of tea. But if you'd rather spice the water,
do it with all the flavours of life, dip an eclipse
in the full moon of your cup now and again,
and let the darkness work its cure upon you like a spell
deeply steeped in your imagination like a school bell.
Attend to your shadows, not as a theft of flowers,
or the clone of a brighter garden you've lost your way back to,
but as mute voices with a grammar all of their own
deep enough to show you the stars you wish upon
from the bottom up of a well with fireflies caught in its throat
it articulates like chimney sparks, even at noon,
or when the black sun shines at midnight
through a clearing in the tree-line of the starfields.

The snake that takes your life grows wings
and turns into the bird and the dragon that uplifts it
with oxymoronic lyrics of fire and rain that are as real
as any symbolic gesture that plays suggestively with your heart
in the cauldrons and fountains of being
that elaborate you as you are, slack water in a mirror
that neither ebbs nor neaps, as the tides reverse direction
like a heartbeat or the flow of your breath.
This mysterious third extreme in between life and death
where everything you sought among the mountain peaks
finds you at the moment of your withdrawal
from your circuitous passage through the valley of longing.
And in every emotive thought, the serpentine wavelength
of the immensity of the transcendent silence
overwhelms you with the intimate impersonality
of its approach to you in every risky step you take toward it.

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Do You Know Where You're Going To?

1 - Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life's been showing you
Where are you going to?
Do you know?

2 - Do you get what you're hoping for?
When you look behind you there's no open doors
What are you hoping for?
Do you know?

Once we were standing still in time
Chasing the fantasies
That filled our minds
You knew how I loved you
But my spirit was free
Laughing at the questions
That you once asked of me

Repeat 1

Now looking back at all we've planned
We let so many dreams
Just slip through our hands
Why must we wait so long?
Before we see
How sad the answers
To those questions can be

Repeat 1

Repeat 2

Do you know?

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Theme From Mahogany (Do You Know Where You're Going To)

Do you know where your going to
Do you like the things that live's been showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know
Do you gain what you're hoping for
When you look behind you there's no open door
What are you hoping for
Do you know
Once we where standing still in time
Chassing the fantasy's that fild our mind
You knew how I loved you but my spirit was free
Laughing at the questions that you once asked of me
Do you know where your going to
Do you like the things that live's been showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know
Now lookin' back on all we planned
We let so many dreams just slip through our hands
Why must we wait so long before we see
How sad the answers to our those questions can be
Do you know where your going to
Do you like the things that live's been showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know
Do you gain what you're hoping for
When you look behind you there's no open door
What are you hoping for
Do you know
DO YOU KNOW

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Where We Are Going

There are times in our life
We don't know where we are going
Till we get there
And when we do
Even we are surprised a
At what we have accomplished

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Where Am I Going

Where am I going
From where have I been
The road is so lonely
No people I have seen
My old friends
Have all gone far away
To find their fortunes
In cities they say
Their memories still haunt me
Every step that I take
I’m left wondering what my future might make

The dreams of being famous
Fade like the setting sun
The fortunes that enticed me
Entice me no more
All that I wish is for my youth to return
Back to my childhood, my home by the sea
To the friends I once knew and games that we played


1 Jan 1996

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Where Are You Going

I dont know where Im going
But I do know where Ive been
I wonder if Im growing
Forever chasing wind
Ive got to keep on moving
Destination still unknown
The more I keep on looking
The more I feel so alone
Chorus:
I never ask you where youre going, so dont ask me
Where are you going?
Not everybody knows where theyre supposed to be
Where are you going?
So if youll please point me in the right vicinity
Where are you going?
I never ask you where youre going, so dont ask me
Im not so good so far
Fell off the beaten track
cause sometimes we go forward
Must take two steps back
Chorus
(solo)
Chorus

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Where are you going little girl?

the wooden boat
on one end the little girl with her paddle
a little longer than her frail body
then her mother and her younger sister
under a yellow umbrella against the sun

i can feel her firm tiny hands that hold the paddle
stab the river and stir to make this murkiness
she holds it on clear directions she struggles to push
the water to move the boat
as the sun scorches her brown skin

shiny and thin and yet so unfrightened
i am asking the philosophical question

to you elvi where are they going?
and you where are you going too?

do not answer me with the name of a place
it is the usual answer, tell me more about what i do not know

the one that stirs the river that one that pushes the boat
the one that must make the mother fold her umbrella
the one that must make the little girl stop her paddling

the answer that exhausts all options
the one that must make us shift our paradigms

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Do You Know Where You Are Going To

Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to? do you know?
Do you get what you're hoping for?
When you look behind you there's no open door
What are you hoping for?
Do you know?
Once we were standing still in time
Chasing the fantasies that filled our minds
You knew i loved you, but my spirit was free
Laughing at the question that you once ask me
Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to? do you know?
Now, looking back in all we pass
We've let so many dreams just slip through our hands
Why must we wait so long before we see
How sad the answers to those questions can be?
Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to? do you know?
Do you get what you're hoping for?
When you look behind you there's no open door
What are you hoping for? do you know?

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Do You Know Where You're Going

Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to?
Do you know?
Do you get what you're hoping for?
When you look behind you there's no open door
What are you hoping for?
Do you know?
Once we were standing still in time
Chasing the fantasies that filled our minds
You knew how I loved you, but my spirit was free
Laughing at the questions that you once asked of me
Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to?
Do you know?
Now looking back at all we've had
We let so many dreams just slip through our hands
Why must we wait so long before we see
How sad the answers to those questions can be?
Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to?
Do you know?
Do you get what you're hoping for?
When you look behind you there's no open door
What are you hoping for?
Do you know?

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Do You Know Where You're Going To

Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to?
Do you know?
Do you get what you're hoping for?
When you look behind you, there's no open doors
What are you hoping for?
Do you know?
Once we were standing still in time
Chasing the fantasies that filled our minds
You knew how I loved you but my spirit was free
Laughing at the questions that you once asked of me
Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to?
Do you know?
Now looking back on all we've planned
We let so many dreams slip through our hands
Why must we wait so long before we see?
How sad the answers to those questions can be
Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?
Where are you going to?
Do you know?
Do you get what you're hoping for?
When you look behind you, there's no open doors
What are you hoping for?
Do you know, baby?
Mm-mm
Mm-mm-mm
Ooh

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Don't Tell Me Mind Is Going Away

DON'T TELL ME MIND IS GOING AWAY

Don't tell me mind is going away
I know it is here and I want it to stay
If it somehow leaves me by surprise
I rather wish I'd completely died.

Don't tell me mind is going away
I want it to carry me to the grave
We'll lie down there together and sleep
I and my mind in unrivaled peace

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Where Am I Going

Where am I going
Have I gone to far
Have I lost my mind
Where are my eyes
Oh have I seen to much
Have I lost my touch
Losing directions from growing infections
Poisoned desires of reaping life so young
What will I be like
When my head is bear
And my legs are weak
Will I be strong or barely keep alive
When Im thirty-five
Reaching dimentions that shatter conventions
Leads me to fear that Im growing old too soon
With every step and every breath
Its farther from youth and closer to death
And that things Ive realized
Now beckon me to shut my eyes
And I will grow to the age of maybe eighty years
In such little time
With this venturous mind
What am I saying
Dont I know myself from experience
Ill never change
Nor cease to sail the sky
Till the day I die
Ill come to conclusion with fear or illusion
Ill live how I feel
Cause no matter how fast or how slow
Youth will go

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Where Am I Going

(cy coleman / dorothy fields)
Where am I going?
And what will I find?
Whats in this grab-bag
That I call my mind?
What am I doing
Alone on the shelf?
Aint it a shame
But no-ones to blame but myself
Which way is clear
When youve lost your way
Year after year
Do I keep falling in love
For just the kick of it?
Staggering through
The thin and thick of it
Hating each old
And tired trick of it
Know what I am
Im good and sick of it
Where am I going?
Why do I care?
Run where its foul
Or run where its fair
No matter where I run
I meet myself there
Looking inside me
What do I see?
Anger and hope and doubt
What am I all about?
And where am I going?
You tell me
When youve lost your way
Year after year
Do I keep falling in love
For just the kick of it?
Staggering through
The thin and thick of it
Hating each old
And tired trick of it
Know what I am
Im good and sick of it
Where am I going?
Why do I care?
Run to the bronx
Or washington square
No matter where I run
I meet myself there
Looking inside me
What do I see?
Anger and hope and doubt
What am I all about?
And where am I going?
Where am I going?
Where?
Tell me where?

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Why Are You Here, Where Are You Going?

My friend, why are you here and do you know where you are going?
And if you do know where you're going, what's your heart's longing?

Are you a Christian who is eager to go home to see The Lord's face?
Or are you so conformed to the world you'd rather stay in this place?

Dear friend, do you want to or do you live on flowery beds of ease?
Or does life itself sometimes cause you to dropp down on your knees?

Have you ever become discouraged and wanted to pack up and leave?
Or do the things that happen in your life move you to truly believe?

Do you believe you are an insignificant part of hopeless evolution?
Or do you know you're an important part of a designed institution?

When it's all over, do you have a soul that will enter eternal life?
Or will you just be buried to rot away after you die of much strife?

You are here by procreation; this of course is not a deep revelation.
The deeper issue is God's Grace and Salvation or eternal damnation.

You made no choice to be here friend, but you will before you leave.
And God is not obligated to accept whatever you choose to believe.

Even though Salvation is a gift that God Himself chose to conceive,
He will have no part of you unless His Son you personally receive.

Indeed this is all God's design leading up to an Eternal Institution,
And Rejecting His Love brings condemnation via a powerful delusion.

(05/2003)

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Where Are You Going With This?

Who's side are you on anyway?

'I am on your side!
Now I am in the front.
See me go to the other side.
Now I've got your back.'

Where are you going with this?

'Across the street.
You think I've got all day,
To help you identify...
What's going on out here.
I've got things to do.'

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John Keats

Where Be Ye Going, You Devon Maid?

WHERE be ye going, you Devon maid?
And what have ye there i' the basket?
Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy,
Will ye give me some cream if I ask it?

I love your meads, and I love your flowers,
And I love your junkets mainly,
But 'hind the door, I love kissing more,
O look not so disdainly!

I love your hills, and I love your dales,
And I love your flocks a-bleating;
But O, on the heather to lie together,
With both our hearts a-beating!

I'll put your basket all safe in a nook,
Your shawl I'll hang up on this willow,
And we will sigh in the daisy's eye,
And kiss on a grass-green pillow.

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Where Are You Going To My Love

(hiller/goodison/leslie/day)
I hold your hand and gently touch your hair
Then well walk together hand in hand
The way it used to be
The way you smile and kiss me tenderly
Tears begin to fill my misty eyes
Now you are gone from me
Where are you going to, my love
Will you come back when the sun shines
Anytime you want to come home
Its all right
Where are you going to, my love
Will our love return tomorrow
Anytime you want to call me
Its all right
I hear your voice
Its always haunting me
Everywhere I turn I see you face
But youre never there
Youre all I have,
Youre all Im living for
I cant bear the pain and misery
Please come back to me
Where are you going to, my love
Will you come back when the sun shines
Anytime you want to come home
Its all right
Where are you going to, my love
Will our love return tomorrow
Anytime you want to call me
Its all right

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Where Are We Going?

Restraints were hoisted on at such an early age
Straps were tightened in the class
Scripts by the school sage
Putting out the spark
Left us in the dark
Possibilities shut right down
The cleaver of the uniform was handed down
Treated like a clown
Where are we going
Where are we going
What are we doing
What are we doing
Throwing it away like that
What are you doing
Throwing is away
All that potential
All that potential
Trickling away like that
We will refuse to be your clones or
Work in someones scheme
Let a person find themselves not be part
Of a machine that worships power and wealth
We need our sanity
A day will come when everyone will have
Their due respect
Hate will no longer be a twisted form of love
Where are we going
What are we doing
Throwing it away like that
What are you doing
All that potential
Trickling away like that
Tell me where are we going
What are we doing
Throwing it away like that
What are you doing
All that potential
Trickling away like that

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Where Am I And Where Am I Going

those are not questions now.
and i do not need to answer them.
for you.

where am i, i am here, my hands
owning a set of fingers. fingers that
grope for words. for us.

i like to think
i am groping for
the words of love. for you.
i like to see how a leaf sways
caressed by the wind that
loves it. gently. for us to think about

for a time, being, here.
where am i, i am beside
a big box. a house. i am inside.
this big empty box, where
a loud music is played
and my ears are dying
to be sealed by fate

to deafening indifference
of you. from me. i am here.
saving on words. scribbling
some meanings. for us.

i am in the middle of
an overuse. i am in need
of a recluse. for us. to fuse
again.

some birds tweeting
the sound of departure.
is this the mating season
of the wind and the water
and the river and the sea?

where am i going?
i am going nowhere.
i am staying i am loyal
to this seat

i am warm like
a palm. i am going,
let me tell you honestly,

i am going to make a difference.
for us. we shall never be the same again.

you grip my hand. I escape through the fingers
of my watery self.

as usual, you will see me: a river, and then i am

the sea.

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