Tag: addiction

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

Tags addiction, attachment, canadian lit, caricature, downtown, elements, fiction, homeless, ignorance, life, love, poem, Poetry, samsara, short story, smoking, suffering, verse

Poetry Saturday Expressions

f*cked | Session 19

If I cannot have pleasure
free from all pain
while enjoying samsara’s treasure

I must be addicted to pleasure
and addicted to suffering
in absolute equal measure

Tags addiction, attachment, creative writing, fucked, happiness, pain, Philosophy, pleasure, poem, Poetry, Saturday Expressions, suffering

Poetry

Warped Regression

I am wretched
spastic in time
visions zoom and swoop
I am not alleviated of guilt
I am a burden of my own burdening

Knocked to the hard ground
concrete bloodied
pieces of knuckles, jaws
scattered about
detritus of a coming war
spastic in time
visions sink, exhaled
a finale, last breath
I am not alleviated of guilt
I will not profess my own burdening

Seamless lips, faulted
refusing to admit witness
slammed with responsibility
reaping, weeping, false confession
but a word, treason, is not spoken
and the clouds do not lift
visions sink, heavy, inhaled
as poison, saddled, trained
a whistle blows, heard for miles
you know it’s gone —
a train of burden

You ought to have seen this coming
       hisses a Voice outta dark
          whispers like old wheels
       grinding to a halt on a rusted track
                      (obligation bearing back)

And if I did?
         words evaporated, arisen from
           a vibrating box,
         moved by mind

And remain ignorantly attached?
But why!
— surprise in the Voice

silence

Addiction to the merry-go-round
of burden,
the colours, the depths of pain
    the highs of   lows
the energy, vibrating
       words,   vibrating
     endowed with mind-meaning
   and mind-made-up

The Voice can see what
         lack of service lacks
and   stops.   shocked —
            disappears, abandoning

Please! I laugh
Please! I laugh
and laugh

Tags abstract, addiction, attachment, creative writing, emptiness, energy, futility, good vibrations, ignorance, karma, meaning, mind made reality, nonsense, poem, Poetry, service, slaughterhouse-five, suffering, writing

Firescape Fridays

Self Irony | FF 22

The real tragic flaw in Shakespeare’s tragic protagonists is that the characters are not privy (in the full ripening of dramatic irony) to the fact that they are but players, actors, and they need not take their roles seriously at all — maybe just change characters completely and shed the oncoming doom.

However, like us, the players remain asleep to this key, this unlocking of their full potential — limited by imagination alone. (Moreover, the roles themselves are adored, the carefully crafted egos, skilfully induced immortality in temporary personas.)

And so, they are led — usually by the rope of attachment — to their doom, typically destroying others along the way.

God, I love a good tragedy.

#OthelloFan #Macbeth

So many lessons. So many illustrations. Especially self-destruction through self-preservation.

Are we not the same?