I’m forced to walk where my feet go
I’m forced to wonder on what I know
I’m forced to move by winds of mind
I’m forced to suffer, for I’ve been unkind
Category: Poetry
Categories
confusing conditions
built to be broken
& cracked down to dust
born to be suffered
offend and break trust
invented to abscond
tried to be trashed
told to fuck off
& thrashed for a laugh
samsara’s play buckles
pulls out all the stops
the audience participation
wallops a good punch
nonsense and dream world
collide innocent
how do awful things ripen?
can we prevent one torment?
it hurts so we harden
it pricks so we hack
all beauty to pieces
even though it doesn’t last
on its own
what pride can be held
in accomplishing the same
as time does with no effort
robbing us of each name
revenge becomes pointless
as our hearts become stone
I press, we must realize our mind
‘cause I can’t take this pain
all apparent losses
grief felt again and again
all relationships tarnish
all chaos lets loose
I thought this time was different
and so volunteered for the noose
but from this redundant perspective
it’s so easy to see
I was built to be broken
& caged to be freed
Categories
Subtle Encouragement
There are no words
for the irrational feelings
of the gross human heart
(gross as in not subtle, nor very subtle,
referring to body, although I didn’t think
I was subtle either)
the body is filled with such putrid substances
36 impure I think
it really doesn’t matter the number
two is too many
and we share ours like it’s love
There are no words
for the irrational feelings
of the gross human heart
so I can make expressive sounds
but they express no sense
(so I’m not going to try)
everything I’ve done so far
now seems so meaningless
if I cannot stop being mean…
for some reason the familiarity
is that of breathing, self-cherishing
it ruins my life continuously
while shamelessly claiming my importance
as number one…
you’d think I’d spot the rub…
But it’s a poisonous devil, desirous
attachment, uncontrolled desire
a hook, a leash, a pleasure garden
growing harvests of pure deceit,
in all my suffering, in all my lives
you’ve hurt and harmed me
and still, I strive
love me, don’t leave me
impossible wishes
a one-way street from,
and a door half-open that
must open or swing shut
Each action, not over, plants its seed
later arising, believed,
this appearance of inherent existence
incorrectly conceived
and permanently perceived
prevents us from achieving
such peaceful states of mind
patient acceptance
compassion, loving kindness
rolling with the punches
flexible with time
healing from hole punches
or cruel one-night hoaxes
so personal at the time
we see ourself as a pinpoint in time!
How utterly boring!
And how painful the suffering!
find a right and find a wrong
do more of one and less of the other
and that’s a great start
because at the end, at death
we get an answer,
for which we may work our whole life
to make it a happy one
free from the most evil joke
of our unforgetting world
we never forget our pleasures
but we’re ever forgetting they’re turning to pain
even when the anguish hits immediately:
A REFILL PLEASE!
So I wish to volunteer so courageously!
may all negativity ripen upon me
and how about instead, spontaneously
all my cause for happiness and love
upon those
countless migrators absent freedom
let’s live free from uncontrolled agony
cleverly disguised as ecstacy
a snake in the garden that slurs
Eat of this tree
it’s why we see things mistakenly
it’s why they tasted the earth, curiously
and – subtle though it was –
the taste appeared so sweet!
how easy now to crave strange meat
our flesh is not enough for long,
so be prepared to watch the cumming
turn to going – if you do wish to cum that badly …
36 disgusting substances or more!
take it from me,
the subtle is less messy and less troublesome
if you’re the type that prefers childish fun
I highly recommend a different plane
it’s all mistaken anyway…
focus on good causes, attainments
My grandpa would say,
just try your best
Categories
For You, Alone
This path is for you, alone
and lonely though it seems
that’s just mistaken awareness
that perceives inherent dreams
For though no self is separate
as ordinary we can’t conceive
the pure joy of our existence
what we gain, all beings achieve
It is said
they tasted the earth
and found it sweet
and that was the birth
of attachment to the food we eat
Attachment to the forms we see
to sounds we hear, scents we smell
to the tactile sensations felt
the gods betrayed us, every one
to attach a pleasurable feeling
to a non-existent tongue
Attachment, hatred
suffering, madness
all parts of the mind
love, compassion
equanimity, gladness
in only virtue will you find
everlasting happiness
My first attempt at producing a sestina.
My normal methodology for creation is spontaneous overflow of emotion (the excess is disgusting) or free verse, which feels channeled from other sources: spontaneously remembered, rendered incorrectly, perverted, and copied from other great artists, no doubt.
It also seemed more appropriate to select an engaging and more intentional subject matter since the poem is so contrived (in this case); I do not usually set out to write a poem. A poem will find me when it wants writing. However, I do enjoy the dance-like and musical qualities of rhythm & repetition. How many of Buddha’s 84,000 teachings did I manage to include here in this silly display of some of the stages of the path?
Enjoy!
Renunciation, a sestina
I have carefully taken out each hook
and the wounds bled for many a long day
and my clothes remained obviously stained
an unpleasurable display, gifts of samsara
and what should bloom in place of pain?
But another chain! We have no freedom!
Ah! But one must define this freedom
or how will we recognize release from the hook?
Do we know what it’s like to not feel pain?
How should we strive to create a happier day?
How miserable the mind that produces samsara!
addicted to deceptive conceptions, stained
With contaminated eyes, our vision stained
creates evil hallucinations, no freedom
and so we find it hard to escape samsara
our familiarity keeps us bound, as a hook
forcing our steady practice day after day
we should understand this to escape this pain
How difficult to bear witness to all beings’ pain
and accept responsibility for this mind that’s stained
How can I stand to fight me even one more day?
How can I believe the existence of joyful freedom?
How can I have the strength to tear out this hook?
Perhaps a bit longer, I will bear the agony of samsara…
This is addictive quality of samsara
hellish to hold us addicts of our pain
a snare that strangles, we must un-hook
what virtue could purify these conceptions stained?
we need a vast collection of merit for freedom
and increased faith in our spiritual guide day after day
Only he guides us out, faithful step, day-by-day
we must grasp this rare chance to leave the prison of samsara
we are now protected on our journey to freedom
he has shown us how to transform our pain
into pure motivation for ordinary beings, equally stained
cherishing others, I continue to remove each hook
With pure effort each day, we’ll completely purify our pain
detroying samsara and our conceptions, stained
attaining freedom forever from attachment’s unbearable hook
Categories
A note from the caterpillar
The caterpillar is nice to visit
… in a way
He smokes his pipe
and blows his opinions
in your face
whether or not you’ve asked for it
But how much more you enjoy Alice
pretty and naive, a human even
quiet and observant, stupid even
(What would it be like?)
The girl and ‘pillar
both approach the end of a cycle transitioning, evolving
but one appears an ugly ascension
better left ignored
the other’s gracelessness is hidden
within, ignored
I am not Alice, a girl
secretive or demanding
wishing for non-blond understanding
I have never been lured
by a white rabbit or a rabbit hole
afternoon naps are not really my thing
and I’m awakening from my daydreams
I am the caterpillar
before it’s eaten by the bird
never to say a butterfly word or whisper
no kisses, no gratuity, no drinks
only brief passers pausing
for wisdom, absurd
or for entertainment to enlightenment
as I age to a disgraceful degree, resisting
before acknowledging
I’ll never fly
I’ll never be seen as
Alice
the caterpillar says goodbye
sympathy is
I see your suffering, and I relate
empathy is
I see your suffering, and I wish to relate
compassion is
I see your suffering and I wish you to be free from it
bodhichitta is
I cannot bear to see your suffering, so I will become enlightened to free you from it
Most of what we speak & seek
is causes for – and sympathy;
but how much better would life be,
if we abandoned victim mentality?
Why is sorrow such a strange addiction,
so familiar to my mind?
I cannot be free from misery;
it’s all I’ve known and all I’ll find!
— such an easy thing to cry
believing escape from suffering a lie
unknowing there’s a firm way out
for those with patient, faithful eyes,
for those who abandon deluded doubt
— What imagination is this!
what strength it takes to change one’s sight
no material quest could yield such result
for in samsara one cannot do right
— What can one do!
rely upon blessings & elevate intention
remain natural while wishing to help; think:
Oh! What would it really be like
to be happy and kind spontaneously
to face all problems with joyful mind
with strength and courage to defeat all foes
while maintaining love and compassion, I’ll find
it easy for blessings to arise, received and bestowed
I’ll help all living beings with ease and with grace
I’ll abandon delusion, because fearless I face
the appearances that rise and fall –
hallucinations, like dreams –
understanding reality, from mind,
is never as seems
because I’m grasping, anxious, clinging
my stories are hard to let go
I should instead rewrite myself the hero
great responsibility mine, undeniably so
How could I cope with this level of fame?
in anonymity, no one knowing my name
in correct paths I follow
but I must impute
I’m no longer a victim, no longer the brute
seeing myself the lowest of all,
through infinite timelines, I recall
the artist’s drive to wield the sword
settling instead for
ink seldom seen and music sometimes heard
limited proud intention
to right the wrongs and mend men’s minds
still what more can I do but mimic
in appreciation of writers of Blake’s kind
I render copied letter into copied word
Tyger, Tyger burning bright
surprised to find you here tonight
easy confidence, phat face
curly locks, so out of place
twinkle, twinkle, of thyne eye
what is your fearful symmetry?
absent, as one pupil enlarged
brightly burning in furnace forged
what is they breath? thy breast? thy might?
so like a woman in the night!
odd & absent-minded maid
back to cold burner, you do fade
he speaks to her with bleary eye
long-winded and past-wounded
he longs for sympathy, to cry
nearly, he is refusèd
she listens with a weary ear
she’s heard it all before
her heart is hardened, scarred by fear
his hurt she can ignore
what good is sympathy to folks
with pain and broken heart
it is compassion that fixes our flaws
so simple is our part
from compassion comes love
and it’s easy to flourish
exchange self with others
with a quick change of intention
to complete all actions with ease
we develop bodhichitta motivation
with familiarity come all habits
spontaneous, effortless
removing delusions from our mind
we soon derive meaning
from the very thing that was,
from our side, meaningless
develop and meditate upon
correct intention
pray for wisdom
sympathy is
I see your suffering, and I relate
empathy is
I see your suffering, and I wish to relate
compassion is
I see your suffering and I wish you to be free from it
bodhichitta is
I cannot bear to see your suffering, so I will become enlightened to free you from it
Categories
Late October
I love hearing the trees talk
sometimes the high branches speak
and the low branches listen
sometimes the east whispers to the west which gives silence in response
sometimes they all chatter at once
I lie in the sun, watching, listening
I dread the coming winter’s quiet
absent leafy voices,
instead violent creaks
disturb the silence, as do
small explosions,
breaking branches, piercing snow
crunching, snapping
deadened, hollowed,
muffled, no water flows
I wish that it would not come soon
but winter’s here in just one moon
Categories
Impermanence
from happy to sad
so quickly
it never lasts
it never lasts
it never lasts
The Halfwit Writer 