Tag: attachment

Categories
Poetry

Wish for Wisdom

(alternative title: fucking begging for it)

             I want to cry
how is it possible
             once again
to become an emotional wreck
     of titanic proportions
          at least still safely submerged
too sensitive
        so overly sensitive!

Please!
     Take the sensitivity away!

Sensory overload
          at the slightest touch
and now  — my imagination!
                     runs wildly & in wild ways
        away
I’m a wreck
characters swarm my mind
barking at me
to write them down
and I cannot find my pen
where has it gone?
again!?

I cannot be barked at
       any longer!
It doesn’t make me
       any stronger!

I try and try
       to not yearn to hear
words of kind sincerity
       but again,
like salt water to quench my thirst
       a taste and I am thirstier!
       a taste and I need more!

Tell me I’m good
Tell me I’m GOOD
TELL me I’m good
Tell me I’M good
Tell ME I’m good

Am I good?

    and even if you tell me
    it doesn’t matter like it should!

because it’s my mind
that’s not good enough

to see reality clearly
to see past the real lies
deceptive tears, I moan, he cries
and I want him to pay dearly
but it’s that very fucked up mind
that wishes to take from others
in a selfish way,
        to have others pay
                    for my debts owed –

No! No longer!

Although I cannot crucify myself
I can rectify by patiently accepting
while my inner voice still screams
           I wish I was invisible
           unknowable as I must be,
still the outer quiet spoke volumes
and the sound of silence resonates
reverberates off the walls
as darkness consumes
a single lamp put out
a black night falls
           I was not as patient as I could
     be I was not as kind as I would
like others to do unto me

A little dramatic, yes
(I wish I wasn’t so dramatic)
                     but nonetheless
it’s an artist’s reflection I see

                        Carry on

It’s not temporary happiness I crave
but full abandonment
of these unacceptable delusions
and the permanent happiness
resulting from the stainless mind
that realizes emptiness directly

                        Please!

Make my mind good

Categories
Dreams Poetry

On Being a Writer (this time)

I have entered the dream world
          it is dark
                  madness ensues
      I’ve come unglued
monsters lurk and
      a peculiar quirk
has taken hold of me
      reality      not what it seems

I have entered the dream state
           it passes over my waking eyes
a film, betraying a wild guise
      a darkness taking over me
absent     absent is the light
      in a nightmare world
full of haunting fright
         how could it feel so right!

I have entered the dream
  I see its walls surrounding me
seemingly limitless,
      yet I cannot run further
than my limitations
      in a meat puppet state
I cannot wait any longer
      to start becoming stronger
I must lucid make
            my dull dreaming mind
I cannot afford to become unkind
                             — not now! —
and forget …

I must remember the dream
             has taken hold of me
it’s pulled me in and under
and threatens to rip asunder
                        all that I’ve worked for
all that my continuum has worked for
                  to lose all I have and more
           futures of past work
            I cannot be the jerk
that throws it all away
and yet,
            I cannot be the one to stay

I must wake up!

Still, I have been pulled under
         I have metamorphosed as a cicada
to scratch my way to the surface,
      crawling above ground
            to birth such sound
and to shed such skin and skeleton
     like the selfless king
               abandons his crown!
while in samsara’s sea they drown
                                          no more

I must wake up!

In the dream world
     imagination is the creator
of all sights and sounds
   and smells and feels and fears
      and tastes and don’t forget
         the touches you don’t get
      — your mind creates those too
in the dream world
     the artist thrives or dies
depending on will and disposition
          — or is it now our despotism?
for it is time I must remind        
                                                   (who?)
      it’s  pure       imagination
         —    creepy factories aside    —

I have entered the dream world
     and so I say goodbye
to the ordinary people I once knew
   to the human race in which I grew
      to the good friends, in numbers few,
oh how when I write, I will miss you!
      but only a solo journey ensues
(the synonym is madness)
      for it’s certainly not entirely lonely
with all those characters arguing in there

          CAN YOU SHUT THE HELL UP
                   FOR JUST A SECOND
           SO I CAN PRETEND
                   TO BE NORMAL?

  Nope.

         Not fair.

This familiarity is based on
     past impressions
          with no guarantee of
     future impressions
           (& little return on investment)

            you think I’d shift gears

Alas! like so many lifetimes
       before me
                      I write
   I enter the dream state
                      I strive
   I will realize my mind
                      this time,
   with a qualified Spiritual Guide.

Categories
Dreams Poetry

Mere Imputation

The space in here
       it is not clear
though she says
       it’s clarity

My mind is fog
       for this is wrong
though she says
       it’s sanity

I hear a siren’s call
       – or a fire alarm?
as she sings
       it’s raining men

If she’s a storm
       I wish to be her wind
though she says
       such wish is sin

If I fall in
       I know I’m fucked
though she jokes
       you’re just a crook

It’s just a test
       as she laughs at me
now she says
       suffering need not be

If happiness is mind
       I generate it from within
now she sings
       the world is yours to win

Oh! Elusive happy mind!
       on what do you depend?
now she jokes
       it’s in your head!

The space in here
       it is not clear
though she says
       it’s clarity

My mind is fog
       for this is wrong
now she begs
       oh just kiss me!

Categories
Dreams Poetry

Giving Thanks to a Past-life Brother

Am I a menace?
A mara? A demon?
Will no one tell me?
Will they simply write a book about me
                 after I die?
Or will I be blasted into forgetful oblivion, purposefully?
What delight did I lack, will I lack,
                 force others to abandon
with my mara-induced delusions?
                  (autism, they call it now)
refusing responsibility – still!
     a demon to this day
     poor quality on display
Brother Fabjan, rescue me 🙏
please don’t make a mockery
     of my life’s work, of my plays
     of my dreadful mimicry,
the plagiarism of youth
in poor taste – ah! I know!
But despondency after death
     is a hell realm, and – alas! –
I was merely reborn human
again – ah! But not to torment you
still! A demon you say!
                  Oh brother Peter Fabjan!
                  You could not rescue me!
So this lifetime, I turn instead
to a Spiritual Guide,
Buddha Shakyamuni’s continuum,
and, in constant manifestation,
                  his teachers!
I am grateful, finally,
to shed this shadow of karma
which reeks of dreadful delusion,
     this familial mockery, betrayal
      – no doubt I returned or would return in kind –
finally, I get to cleanse such evil minds!
Alas! I am grateful!
Thank you, my brother

Categories
Love Letters Poetry

near miss

we were supposed to meet for coffee
when I showed up, half-past two
I rapped upon your door
I waited there for you
I knocked again, but harder
something clearly isn’t right
I knocked again then tried the lock
lacking manners, impolite
without permission, I enter
you’re nowhere to be found
the dishwasher’s running
but your meds aren’t around
I check the tub and closets
past life fears resurface
I wonder where you are
as suspicion makes me nervous
you were supposed to make me coffee
at half-past two
I was running late
but that I always do
I knew something was wrong
when I didn’t hear from you
we were supposed to share some coffee
at half-past two
not five minutes later
I’m standing on your lawn
I’m entering your home
as quiet as a fawn
I know something is missing
the dishwasher whirs its plight
I know you are not here
I know this isn’t right
we were supposed to meet for coffee
when I showed up half-past two
I was running late
as you know I always do
you’ve never found a fault
and how I did appreciate
your kindness and your patience
even in accepting unkind fate
and how I’d love to blame you
like everyone else will do
but I can’t find a seed of anger left
only compassion true
so, please, do not be lonely,
if you are alone tonight
know you are still loved
do not give up your fight
we were supposed to meet for coffee
at half-past two
but I ran a little late,
and I fear I just missed you

Categories
Good Fortune Poetry

Ordinary Existence

I hate this lifetime
                 she says

With all the instructions
         and all the conditions?
Why?
        How could you hate such fortune?

Because all the people
            I have ever known,
                            ever loved
                in all my lives
           have forgotten me

Not only
          do they not remember
our love, shared,     our words
                        our bonds …
they are all sick, wounded, dying
this vision becomes a nightmare
   threatens lives I care about
      makes me hate my own
and then I see
        I am the maker and destroyer
but never more a life-enjoyer
       — at least not this life anyway
this one with pain that’s here to stay
   because that is samsara’s way
      first it gives and then it takes
breath, floods, fires, earthquakes,
      fortune, time, fame, mistakes, and
breath

It all comes rushing in and then
                                    it goes

Absent is the gentle flow,
                        of another life
                  one in which I failed
          one where I succumbed to strife
          for otherwise this appearance
                        wouldn’t be
                             (couldn’t be)

So which delusion can I blame
   for producing this life, this name
I happily give up for happiness
   a wisdom realizing emptiness
                  I’m tired of grief’s game
        set me free!

While with wisdom, I reflect,
   I find… I hate this lifetime
                                all the same
           but despite its constant pain
             not a moment spent in vain

I will escape

Categories
Buddhism Philosophy Poetry

determination

I am only a witness,
        transparent eye
a non judgemental mirror —
          or at least a mirror who keeps
          her judgments to herself

I am the nursery rhyme before it’s written,
        the angel before the fall
        the dream before the nightmare
        the ring before the call

I hear the future coming,
          still feel the distant past,
  see outcomes from our actions
              that for years & years will last

I weep for sad beginnings
            I laugh at mad hellos
  see insanity all around us
        and suffering only grow

I am ready to escape this
        ready to depart
        ejecting all attachment
        burning all my art

I have not one creation
          of which I am proud
  except those that come from virtue,
              those soundless,
              those I’ve vowed

I sow these seeds in silence
          for my words have caused much pain
          all contaminated actions
               seemingly in vain
          (* focus on intention *)

I hear the whistle blow,
          a hundred miles from home
  smell the fields of mountain thyme
            growing round the purple heather
  and still cannot decide
                if to stay or go

                        until I walk the streets
                see the suffering
                hear the cries
                smell the stink
                feel the terror
                taste the drink

then it all comes rushing back,
          each and every pleasure,
                    that I’ve had it all before
      —     it’s time to think!
                   I cannot do this anymore!
I won’t!

So with reliance, offering, requesting,
            my life I do lay down
                  only for something better
            more meaningful, profound

      with diligent, stable practice
              (which, finally, I’ve found)
              and compassionate, loving heart
              I fall upon the Bodhisattva’s ground

I bow before the new moon,
          and rising with the sun
  try to take things lightly,
  because all is mind and none is one

Categories
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

Categories
Poetry

clearwing

not good enough?
       you little moth
               drawn to my flame
fearing I’ll burn your wings

but I am not fire (your past)
        I am air (your future)
               a Tara,
                           wind element

you choose disbelief
       to break hearts, cause tears
& still, you deserve such clarity of mind,
       divine,

you little moth

you’re enough

Categories
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