from happy to sad
so quickly
it never lasts
it never lasts
it never lasts
Categories
Impermanence
Tag: attachment
Categories
a week before the fall
a slothful orb ascends,
slowly across the southern sky
already missing its peak
it shirks responsibility,
no longer a light above by nine a.m.
in the yard, clocked shadows hold morning’s chill
while, with a furnace blast, blazing warmth is cast
lethally, from an expiring sun’s face
what a time of year
one of dread and fascination
a reverse magic of the spring takes place
dishearteningly unbelievable
everything once vital and green
withers away, as flames to ash
full bushes decay under still-blue skies
crosshatched with chem trails
autumn’s appearance should sting less
with each year of expectation
but the knife travels the same scar,
ripping the tissue open once more
spilling the crinkle of leaves, isolated chirps
icy rainfall spurts
there can be no love in autumn
what — love for a dying thing?
we expect spring’s rebirth in its vein
but it’s different
inconceivably so
as nothing can come back the same
taking its time, different life does grow
I no longer delight in season’s change
a witness to illness arising
and constant pain
raw attachment, unhooked anew,
broken hearts where love once grew
I cannot bear to face the task
of reliving seasons, to watch them pass
as all things slip like time in glass
my cageless prison, this life, outlasts
free me before I plunge once more
through autumn’s orange enchanted door
cold aversion ripening
grasping at inherent things
I know it’s wrong, so little worse
than self-cherishing
my ugly curse
may I be free before the fall
— just one more week
to see it all
correctly
In each life
we walk away
from one another
thinking this life will be different
we tried it again
and now
we walk away
from one another
a different name
a different place
a different time
if the karma remains
unpurified
again we’ll try
again we’ll try
Categories
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
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
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
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
needle my heart
thread me with hurt
keep me just alive
feel the cold anger
turn to hot sorrow
as I fight to survive
pull back bitten nails
pin me with pain
and pleasure derive
it’s torturer’s art
to keep us apart
and this love deprive
Categories
My Tears
My Tears*
I’m crying all the time now.
I cried all over the street when I left Jack’s near Montebello Park.
I cried listening to Heart.
I cried looking at the winter leaves strewn across the yard, I cried at the sadness
of the now-ignored trees.
Happiness exists I feel it.
I cried for anger, I cried for delusions.
The world is addicted to anger.
Joy appearing to be seen, but lost, a mirage.
Overflowing tears of Avalokiteshvara.
January 1, 2025
*a tribute to Allen Ginsberg’s “Tears,” 1956
Dear Past Life Connection,
Don’t get stuck in your head
don’t think
I’d be better off instead…
don’t let the demons get to you
don’t think it’s better if it’s new
I know it doesn’t seem so right
when things get hard & a little tight
but I think good’s worth a little fight
after this dark comes a lot of light
(I promise)
All that I could wish for you
is a cease of suffering, aches, and flu
this love, the wish for happiness so true
and the desire for such joy to remain
with fearlessness, absent any pain
and a healthy, happy, stable mind
a loving heart and neighbours kind
Don’t despair, my humble friend
for we’re at beginning, not the end
do not worry, do not hasten
it’s only our drive, our pulses racing
Let’s enjoy the lust, the draw, the pull
let’s unfasten our will, glass half full
of wisdom, we wish, we want to escape
this prison, ordinary existence, red tape
Somewhere between sex and fear
this passion lies
yet we’re too courageous
so we thrive
against all odds, mistakenly alone
staring reluctantly at our phones
aghast, embarrassed
a hint of cowardice
— shit
Don’t get stuck in your head
we’re better off instead
to enjoy this dance of life
embracing opportunity with strife
I know it doesn’t seem so right
that it should be left to you
but in the interest of tradition
I encourage thou come through
Don’t despair, my falling friend
it’s just the beginning, follow the thread
roll the dice, don’t flip the car
please remember who you really are
It’s worth it
(I promise)
Love,
a distant past lover
The Halfwit Writer 