Author: K. Samways

Constant observer. Ad hoc responder.

Poetry

Feels good, man (but for how long)

Post author By K. Samways
Post date March 4, 2024
No Comments on Feels good, man (but for how long)

I shall call it
           changing suffering
                   forevermore
                   for that is what it is

Every twinkle little star
    every snowflake near and far
                sparkling against sky or ground
     morning dewdrops all around

I once considered beautiful gifts
wondrous signs too commonly missed

But, no – I now see
                  (not for the first time)
        fool’s gold
                    not easily offered back
        a meaningless pocket weight,
                  (now I must buy a belt)

How can I contend with such suffering?

In temporary pleasures and joys,
effortlessly, we’re robbed
even if of mere time

     inescapable imputation
     immovable mountain
     sickness, aging, death

I cannot evade you
so why am I running?
Why do I not surrender?

The terrifying jaws of death
protected only by an inner circle,
a very subtle layer

(Let’s unblock the chakras
before it’s too late)

(I hope it’s not too late)

You know, the story of the ring was this

     emptiness, bliss
     there all along,
     delusion appearing great,
                      feels too strong
     yet empty     empty
                      all along

(Of what?)

(Empty of what?)

That’s the question,
the non-existent rub

(still yearning for the out)

So just existing in this tub

Trading suffering

Not for the first nor last time
        does such (dis)satisfaction
                           (edit upon the moment, day)
        depend upon my mind
and never these infernal conditions
                                manifest by mind

It’s my mind
changing suffering, such!
nature of samsara’s temporary kind

                       So will be relief
when clarity appears to replace
                        this muddled mess –
direct realization: emptiness
            with pure intention
and, please, before death!

Tags attachment, changing suffering, clarity, creative writing, emptiness, Impermanence, mind, poem, Poetry, reality, suffering

Poetry

A fickle thing

I started to lose interest
where it began, I cannot tell –
was it diseases of delusions?
or the medications as well?

Aversion to sugar
I dislike that sweet —
but a little too tart?
sours my treat

A dash of salt
is too salty still
when I want a
silly snack

Creamy vanilla
    or buttered plain
        are two with simple
                               lack

Yet mocha dark
       or caramel glazed
              are off my beaten
                                path

So what is it I fancy?
what is it I crave?
and what will satisfy me?
or quick become depraved?

For once a pleasure rises
    a pleasure, she must fall
    and he who sympathizes with
                                attachment
       is he who loses all

For grasping at an object,
impermanent, illusion best
is ignorance, the birthplace
of delusions, all the rest

So what will satisfy me
     external to my mind?
Nothing nothing no   thing
         for all that is
         is named, is mind

Tags art, attachment, books, creative writing, emptiness, endings, fickleness, fiction, Impermanence, karma, love, mind, poem, Poetry, reality, writing

Poetry Saturday Expressions

What now? | Session 18

If it was never fixed,
it can’t be rebroken

yet it’s shattered now completely

while I am made whole

I have been repurposed
utterly renewed

now I know
freedom, not heartache,
ensues

amazing – I waited
                   so patiently —
. . .
         okay, no
                    I begged
I literally got on my knees and pleaded

(humiliating really)

for C L O S U R E

I practically pulled my own teeth for it

(I simply stole a toothbrush instead)

I was intoxicated by the lust for a bitter end –

while being denied it again and again

knowing it’s going to come
inevitably

so I begged for early release

the buildup was incredible
intense at times

(filled with that crazed yearning)

but, as it so often is, then withheld

so when the climax didn’t come

time went by and trepidation

S t R e t c H e d

to a numbed oblivion, almost
forgotten – then rediscovered and

(as I was waiting for, begging for)

followed by the instant explosion,

so incredibly quick we call brief into question

a lit fuse to a pinch of dynamite

I waited for the punch! And it never came

it merely sizzled
a spark, lacking flame
and while I wish

so strongly, I could say, you too
were just a sizzle to me

instead I just admit you were a strong second

(sorry, never a first)

and of course such thirst for you

has permanently ended

no hurt no difficult goodbye

no hard feelings

just sweet, sweet relief

what now?

Enlightenment

Tags attachment, blockage lifted, closure, creative writing, ending, enlightenment, freedom, goodbye, karma, poem, Poetry, Saturday Expressions

Poetry

vacuous oration

              words on words
he flipped the bird
     and entertained
absurdity
       ‘n’ torn
        paper’s frayed
kaleidoscope image
       he is his cage
his father’s father was delayed
       in learning virtue
was the way
       and still today
a family pays

              absurd’s the word
you heard it
       hear it first
              from me
and then find a qualified source
       for I have a message
that demand’s to be bottled and
caught and released
                  that beast, the words on words
you’d rather she’d heard
              thather than the ones you …
wish!!!
              you could amend

[Narrator: *coughs* I hate to bring that up again]

             yet the part demands to be played
and so another family paid
       karma sweet, then karma tart
karma baked in humble pie
       ripens as happiness and
fortunes that fly
       as the reins of wisdom
slap their steeds
       we’ll leave samsara
and all its feasts
       before the bottle rolls on shore
‘fore the greatest battle,
                            raw guts gore
‘fore Dharma is lost forevermore

              for the 11^th is so far away
seeming like an eternity –
       too long to let my family pay
so nonsense verse I offer up
              like empty teacup
                     stainless pot
water boils
              yet is not       hot

for all the teachings yet to come
may each have meaning, every one
and ‘fore this verse starts making sense
              I’ll lose the train of th . . .
                     like I’ve lost cents
a lazy rhyme
              an uneven rhythm
       to trip the orator
              a great let down
       is samsara’s treasure 🤑

he is coming
he is coming
he has come

thank you
thank you
thank you

goodbye

Tags abstract verse, absurd, creative writing, inherited problems, nonsense verse, offering, play, poem, Poetry, reality, samsara

Poetry

learning disability

I refuse to learn

how options appear
and reappear

to be watched
to be played, as they say
as it’s called
as it’s a toy, a game

we buy into, pressing
play, a button, into
plastic, cold and hard into
flesh and piercing mind

reflex, concerto into messiness
miserly caution, mimics, perfects
fake British accent, dying intellect
started to make sense, now derelict

started to take care, yet now neglect
began to change, but now nonsense
imitation meat – for vegans, eggless
but frozen semen – ah, I digress

an eagle’s search, a patriot’s shame
poorly timed speech or heart’s first flame
dying breath meets empty fame

a speech like this
     a poem in rhythm
          a face uncovered
     past life, disgraced

pointless in theme,
     its cadence poor
          rhyme lacks importance
     its topic, a bore

lost life, discovered
     meaningless, in vain
          still I cannot help but hope
they make me solid –
          exist me in name

press play, the button
enter the future shop
click submit when prompted
and buckle up

Tags abstract verse, absurdity, creative writing, nonsense verse, play, poem, Poetry, submit

Poetry

Walk

Walk

It does not matter where your legs take you

Walk

Let the winds move through you

Roam

There are lands to explore even if they’ve been discovered

Rediscover

Move from the material to the imagination

Pace

The rooms in your house & see the cobwebs in the corners

Ignore

The spiders in such places, helpful & harmless

Dust

The webs from your head, because the arachnids that inhabit psychic spaces are venomous

Vomit

The excrement that has no benefit in the stomach of your mind

Stumble

Forward, as a traveler of future lives does not rest

Walk

It does not matter where your legs take you

Move

The inner winds to virtue

Tags creative writing, inner winds, poem, Poetry, purpose, reality, true nature, virtue

Poetry

Lost Life Loss

a memory

it is not mine

upon a log I sit

‘neath the snowy pine

under darkened sky

beside earthen stove

a bitter wind kicks up

in the moonlit grove

the jingle of the horse & sleigh

as it carries him so far away

I cannot weep, I do not cry

a muted heart is breaking

and as the silence lies

a frozen bough is snapping – loud

to crack the quiet

still, expected in the freeze

I do not startle, there is no breeze

no wind at back to impel me

my bones have stiffened here

my mind is anything but clear

as the winter’s solitude

forces delusions rather rude

inner quietude never did follow outer

now it’s simply easier to hear

internal screaming

though the fire burns, continuous

it takes us not

because it cannot reach

what we refuse we got

buried below

alive and dead

some peace & love

blessings bestowed

how are these all stripped from me?

as he plods on down the snowy path

I know he won’t be coming back

so I’m wrecked to watch him leave

though it is not my memory

Tags art, attachment, books, creative writing, death, emotion, feeling, grief, karma, loss, Photography, poem, Poetry, robert frost, snowy path, sorrow, winter, writing

Poetry

Kinda feels like “going”

It always ends

like a Robert Frost poem

he speaks
in a language she does not understand

she tries,
but he is wizened, suspicious

innocence has no place on a tired vine
bird shit scattered over the fields

wash your produce, she says
           and he takes it all wrong
                   “What’s she on about now
                 I’m tired of it”

he’s cracking, she’s cracked

yes, when we resign our wills
to others,
when we bend

we believe we will not break
until the ripping point is reached

will another aimless traveler
risk his life to rescue me

or shall I unravel the web
I’m caught in
and escape myself

after all,
there is no independent existence

Tags coming, creative writing, dream reality, emptiness, ending, feeling, going, independent existence, inherent existence, poem, Poetry, reality, relationship, robert frost, web

Buddhism Poetry

Second Disappointment

You search for conventional cause
but come up empty handed
not quite the emptiness you seek
because the suffering is still there
the realness of a wound laid bare

and why not rub salt in it —
we’re out of control anyway

a disappointing dream, yes, sore
red, raw, sinewy once more
the band aid won’t stick
and the solitary peace that binds,
too, won’t stick in spite of such mess

Shariputra’s demon will not
prevent my efforts as a spiritual warrior
even if injured once more

after all, we’re all lunatics in
the madhouse of samsara
          arrogant prisoner
        trapped
hard to believe it’s not permanent
          until we move beyond
                           conventional cause

you want to be angry,
but on what authority?

what justification could you have
for such delusion?

Thinking of virtue, compassion and love
-how do you forget love?
the simple wish for others to be happy

I am so sorry for you that you
do not know this feeling

a flame carried for all living beings
despite my own suffering
‘cause that’s life

and what say you to that?
that in a moment of weakness
                we see it all
and having been forsaken, both,
             and both put through hell
             and failing miserably
to the lower realms we could descend
              if this silly hatred doesn’t end

it’s temporary anyway

do you resist?