Category: Poetry

Categories
Good Fortune Poetry

Antidote

I do not want vacations
I do not want jewels
I don’t mind bouquets of flowers
but someone must take them out
when they begin to rot and stink
          and I am busy spending ink

I don’t want riches
I don’t want gold
I don’t mind pearls
but that’s because they’re a symbol of purity
       – at least that’s what I’m told
I don’t want to hoard for when I’m old

I don’t want too much trouble
I’ll just take enough
to prepare me, make me stronger
for when things inevitably get tough

I don’t want to be a mark
I don’t want to be a thief
I don’t want to receive more
          than my share of beef

I don’t want my own car
I don’t want my own house
I don’t want to own pets
  or really anything else!

It may sound a little lazy
it may even sound lame
   but I’ll take a peaceful life
unburdened by such wanton things

It’s all really perverse –
      this cruel misunderstanding
of how reality exists
         manically apart and magnetically banding

I do not want the wool
pulled over my eyes
I do not want to ignore
the suffering, the cries

I wish to be free from it all
and collect only the treasure of Dharma
for there is no practice too small
and all experiences are karma

I do not want vacations
I do not want jewels
I desire no relationship
I no longer suffer fools
with all my mind in refuge
every moment, every day
it’s incredible how quickly
the three poisons fade away

Categories
Poetry

Spring Renewal, an endless cycle

I can feel time slowly slipping through my fingers
frictionless to hold a second for a second moment
before falling through the ether into near nothingness
imprinted on continuum
a seed carried life to life
until conditions are right
to ripen the fruit on an unsuspecting self
   — I am sorry

   But how can it be helped?
I cannot squeeze this self into another
instead I chip away at delusions
from the inside out
destroying deluded doubt
and always at play
never a day spent away from refuge
and still I fight a deluge
of intense suffering
always threatening
to drown a silly me
how can it be
at war with three
extract My poisons, please!

Oh doctor of holy medicine,
I am a sick being
full of rotten feeling
still misunderstanding compassion
still giving with miserly ration
still confused at apparent separation
what can I do
I sit and contemplate emptiness
I feel like less and less
I can impress others
I merely offend
with no ability to comprehend
how meaningless it all is
without a pure intention
to worry about such brief condition
when I could be creating
a beautiful future feeling
and care for other instead
please, mend my broken head

Please, mend my broken heart
so that I may finally start
to love, to give happiness
and understand what comes does part
although appearing, no longer relating
to mistaken imputation
and while all expectations break
and friends do talk and fuck and fake
until the joy becomes real
and pain is permanently healed
may my pure virtue be revealed
through blessings be shared
and eventually may I care
only for other, selflessly
give me such pure appearance
so with happiness, I’ll dance
and, just perhaps,
give pure love chance after chance

Categories
Poetry Saturday Expressions

Imagination | Session 20

Imagination is a funny thing
Can be a vile thing
A wildling, can motivate
Or desecrate
With or without the evidence
Mind makes its own proof
Mind draws me in attachment
Then makes me act aloof
Imagination is a lonely thing
Appearing individual and separate
Travels as though disparate
Never in one place
Ever pervading space
Remembering those I’ve met
Ever scheming, making bets
Ever brushing against yours
Yet pretending we’re all bores
How can we rely upon such a beast?
For it’s our untuned vehicle
Rattles over bumps and around curves
Unoiled, rusted, nearly busted
Soft, moth-eaten, torn-fabric seats
Our minds have been used and abused
We’re so confused, and we’re always
Giving our power to those who prey
Who eat away all day to get their fill
Upon the lonelies,
the innocents, the broken
Those who have not awoken
Those whose hearts have turned to clay
Moldable, opposable yet breakable
When dry and old and grey
May my mind not go that way
Imagination is a funny thing
A lovely thing
Can make you sing,
When you fill yourself with love and understanding
Gives you courage to jump
Lets you float before landing
And how can we access this happy mind alone?
One that helps others
Defends against crones
Simple as this
Control your mind
Or someone else will

Categories
Philosophy Poetry

Your Karma

A seed planted
Virtuously
Grows fruits of happiness

A seed planted
Non virtuously
Grows fruits of suffering

Tldr: karma’s a bitch

💋

Categories
Poetry

magic of mind

believe in magic
  believe in love
    believe that life is a gift above
       all else believe that happiness is real
not to be attained, but
        merely discovered
pull back the cover, the visage of misery
for underneath,   already there
   is joy,   and peace,   and fearlessness
magical and pure
   suffering’s cure
           such allure
 & haute couture
     we make a dress of bliss
a lightweight garb
   heavenly feeling, free of attachment
free of hatred
          free of ignorance
   created with equanimity and compassion
rainbow fabric of delight
not temporary, but everlasting
     not truly existent, 
     but purified, transformed and increased!
what sorcery is this!
     not wizardry of external means
     but a realization of mind
             my mind, your mind
     pouring water into water
     mixed inseparable
may I be free from delusions
  may I fortify my magic
    may I never wreak havoc
        (more than I already have)
      may I only give Dharma,
        material help, fearlessness and love
          may I be a treasure from above
ultimately,         at last I find
         a magician’s alchemy
   is mind over matter
         for all matter is mind

Categories
Poetry

The White Rose

note: poem conceptualized & written in 2020

Petals fall from
the white rose
encased but ignored
left on loop
but no one is there
to watch the rewind
meaning it’s hollow
not empty
still, like
rats’ feet over broken glass
no more to start or
stop a revolution or war.

Petals fall from
the white roses
marking graves of fallen
soldiers who tell their
story of glory after death
words spill from a curator’s lips
or a historian’s pen tip
tales of heroism
what brutality
fighting for peace, wisdom, clarity
against another mind to somehow
find it within one’s own.

War has been on my mind
as it so often is when
I find myself waiting in fatal quiet
reality augmented by the furtive hive mind
observing and denying
battles now fought
in sedated silence
behind television screens
behind cell phone screens
the ones woven through
our own digits
stiffened and stuck to
lite brite pointillism.

White roses bloom
in my smoke-filled room
red petals litter the floor
grey petals fall from the ceiling
ashes in graves and washed on shore
and what does it matter now
hope is a word said
       nevermore
hope is a word bathed in doubt
so trade for belief and see
wish for a deep faith to be
the peace already in you
the love already in me

I heard an opinion
like the white rose, inoffensive
neither right nor wrong
simply an idea
made tangible by
a horrific co-creation
of present reality
present time an
indian-given gift
an offensive slur
cancelled at the last
moment      – free speech no more.

Forgetting that     to offend
is a mind-made act
    a self-made attack
complete control given
to the red queen
whose only goal
is to hang the noose
about your neck
and wring the pennies
from your purse
yet it’s just      the dream
that is your curse.

Now prick your finger
on the white rose’s thorn
made empty in parts
by how you define
your relations with
the world you find
outside your front door
for all is your mind
      and          our history written
from one point of view
always makes ignorant
all but a few

Categories
Poetry

she didn’t wake up

she was looking for love
      in all the wrong places
lighting a cigarette
       outside the empty bar
     buys her own drinks
       what’s she waiting for?
                      Enlightenment?
she trots off into the night,
      dragging her smoke-ring-halo
    absent lamp light, fog rimmed
starlit trails
     observed by her full moon gaze –
   but does she exist without witness?
she was looking for love
      eyes wide shut
             snaked-eyed-luck
coffee breath and memories
  of last year’s shitty fuck
                   did I cum?
skating down an icy street
       pleasantly, legally high
                     wishing to die
            she escapes on by
narrowly avoiding being struck
               ignores the honks
            oversized jacket, wonky look
   she reaches inside for her last dart
it falls from shakey fingers, on ice, wet, breaking
           and if that isn’t the straw
         as she falls to her knees
       and pleads with the dream,
               — her own mind of course —
                                please release me
wake up
wake up

Categories
Poetry

loathsome whispers

the voices whisper
        people loathe you
the voices snicker
        alone alone alone
a false chant
        separate separate separate
a real deluded rant
        awful awful awful
in four-four time, or sometimes three
        you can’t count anymore!
I used to play the violin
        and you can’t read anymore!
the voices tell half-truths
        and you believe us!
the voices are half-believed, half-won already
        you’ve lost, give up
a nasty thought, a remorseful tale
        we are the guards!
I’d rather be the hammer than the nail
        your mind’s in jail!
I’d plan escape, but where to run
        we’re just beginning our fun!
for the mind will follow, as shadows after the sun
        stop with the rhymes, already!
the voices whisper
        people loathe you
the voices snicker
        alone alone alone
a false chant
        separate separate separate
a real deluded rant
        fearful fearful fearful
with the ability to abandon
        no  no   no!
I expel the poison, the voices
        so long   good bye   adieu

and freedom pursue

footnote: if you’re going through hell, keep going

footnote 2: to love, to cherish, to be patient, to be kind, to be virtuous, to remember all is mind, this will get you through

Categories
Poetry

Levity

can I hold your interest?

                   captivate you?

a butterfly,          aimless in a breeze

          or a moth,  suicidal to a flame

I only live to entertain

            are you not entertained?

how we exist

               appears only in name

I only stay to go insane

             are you not the same?

Categories
Poetry

divination

I am the speaker of the poem
     divine entity
            beauty, grace
      flowing robes and lovely face
   sent from heaven unto this place
pure imagination
     I am water streaming,
   a silent river, sans creepy songs
absent dark tunnels
I, a speaker, fantasy
I, fucking magical
I, ever unseparate from an I
    a true personality
        untrue
glistening, golden, unafraid
       tattooed
cling and clung and am clinging to
       lacking inherent-existence-goo
       a samsaric stew
       a real fuck-you
I, a speaker, falsely accused
       lacking permanent subsistence
       a temporary view
       constantly made anew
I, changing perspective
         a bit see-through
         emptiness-clue
         with good ideas I then undo
I, ever introspective
         meditative
         on the swift escape route out
         I’m wishing you’ll come to
I, the speaker of this poem
          invention imagining the spoken you
    inception in the meta sense
        write it in the present tense
          I haven’t really any plans
     except to collapse into this poem
   when your eyes are diverted
to some other interest, next deserted
from whose side do I exist?
I, the speaker of this poem?
        divine entity
beautiful, strong
                  stunning, intelligent
             rarely wrong
         who from your mind
             came    and soon     
                  from your mind
                                           gone