| I want to give my thanks to everyone for everything,
|
| and as a token of my appreciation,
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| I want to offer back to you all my good and bad habits
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| as magnificent priceless jewels,
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| wish-fulfilling gems satisfying everything you need and want,
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| thank you, thank you, thank you,
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| thanks.
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| May every drug I ever took
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| come back and get you high,
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| may every glass of vodka and wine I’ve drunk
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| come back and make you feel really good,
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| numbing your nerve ends
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| allowing the natural clarity of your mind to flow free,
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| may all the suicides be songs of aspiration,
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| thanks that bad news is always true,
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| may all the chocolate I ever eaten
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| come back rushing through your bloodstream
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| and make you feel happy,
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| thanks for allowing me to be a poet
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| a noble effort, doomed, but the only choice.
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| I want to thank you for your kindness and praise,
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| thanks for celebrating me,
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| thanks for the resounding applause,
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| I want to thank you for taking everything for yourself
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| and giving nothing back,
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| you were always only self-serving,
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| thanks for exploiting my big ego
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| and making me a star for your own benefit,
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| thanks that you never paid me,
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| thanks for all the sleaze,
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| thanks for being mean and rude
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| and smiling at my face,
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| I am happy that you robbed me,
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| I am happy that you lied
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| I am happy that you helped me,
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| thanks, grazie, merci beaucoup.
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| May you smoke a joint with William,
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| and spend intimate time with his mind,
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| more profound than any book he wrote,
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| I give enormous thanks to all my lovers,
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| beautiful men with brilliant minds,
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| great artists,
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| Bob, Jasper, Ugo,
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| may they come here now
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| and make love to you,
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| and may my many other lovers
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| of totally great sex,
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| countless lovers
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| of boundless fabulous sex
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| countless lovers of boundless fabulous sex
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| countless lovers of boundless
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| fabulous sex
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| in the golden age
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| of promiscuity
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| may they all come here now,
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| and make love to you,
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| if you want,
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| may each of them
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| hold each of you in their arms
|
| balling
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| to your hearts
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| delight.
|
| balling to your hearts
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| delight
|
| balling to
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| your hearts delight
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| balling to your hearts delight.
|
| May all the people who are dead
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| Allen, Brion, Lita, Jack,
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| and I do not miss any of you
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| I don’t miss any of them,
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| no nostalgia,
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| it was wonderful we loved each other
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| but I don’t want any of them back,
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| now, if any of you
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| are attracted to any of them,
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| may they come back from the dead,
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| and do whatever is your pleasure,
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| may they multiply,
|
| and be the slaves
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| of whomever wants them,
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| fulfilling your every wish and desire,
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| (but you won’t want them as masters,
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| as they’re demons),
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| may Andy come here
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| fall in love with you
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| and make each of you a superstar,
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| everyone can have
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| Andy.
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| everyone can
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| have Andy.
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| everyone can have Andy,
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| everyone can have an Andy.
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| Huge hugs to the friends who betrayed me,
|
| every friend became an enemy,
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| sooner or later,
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| I am delighted you are vacuum cleaners
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| sucking everything into your dirt bags,
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| you are none other than a reflection of my mind.
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| Thanks for the depression problem
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| and feeling like suicide
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| everyday of my life,
|
| and now that I’m seventy,
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| I am happily almost there.
|
| Twenty billion years ago,
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| in the primordial wisdom soup
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| beyond comprehension and indescribable,
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| something without substance moved slightly,
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| and became something imperceptible,
|
| moved again and became something invisible,
|
| moved again and produced a particle and particles,
|
| moved again and became a quark,
|
| again and became quarks,
|
| moved again and again and became protons and neutrons,
|
| and the twelve dimensions of space,
|
| tiny fire balls of primordial energy
|
| bits tossed back and forth
|
| in a game of catch between particles,
|
| transmitting electromagnetic light
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| and going fast, 40 million times a second,
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| where the pebble hits the water,
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| that is where the trouble began,
|
| something without substance became something with substance,
|
| why did it happen?
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| because something substance less
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| had a feeling of missing out on something,
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| not
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| getting it
|
| was not getting it
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| not getting it,
|
| not getting it,
|
| imperceptibly not having something
|
| when there was nothing to have,
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| clinging to a notion of reality;
|
| from the primordially endless potential,
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| to modern day reality,
|
| twenty billion years later,
|
| has produced me,
|
| gave birth to me and my stupid grasping mind,
|
| made me and you and my grasping mind.
|
| May Rinpoche and all the great Tibetan teachers who loved me,
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| come back and love you more,
|
| hold you in their wisdom hearts,
|
| bathe you in all-pervasive compassion,
|
| give you pith instructions,
|
| and may you with the diligence of Olympic athletes
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| do meditation practice,
|
| and may you with direct confidence
|
| realize the true nature of mind.
|
| America, thanks for the neglect,
|
| I did it without you,
|
| let us celebrate poetic justice,
|
| you and I never were,
|
| never tried to do anything,
|
| and never succeeded,
|
| I want to thank you for introducing me to
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| the face of the naked mind,
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| thanx 4 nothing. |