clarity – The Halfwit Writer

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!

Feels good, man (but for how long)

I shall call it
           changing suffering
                   forevermore
                   for that is what it is

Every twinkle little star
    every snowflake near and far
                sparkling against sky or ground
     morning dewdrops all around

I once considered beautiful gifts
wondrous signs too commonly missed

But, no – I now see
                  (not for the first time)
        fool’s gold
                    not easily offered back
        a meaningless pocket weight,
                  (now I must buy a belt)

How can I contend with such suffering?

In temporary pleasures and joys,
effortlessly, we’re robbed
even if of mere time

     inescapable imputation
     immovable mountain
     sickness, aging, death

I cannot evade you
so why am I running?
Why do I not surrender?

The terrifying jaws of death
protected only by an inner circle,
a very subtle layer

(Let’s unblock the chakras
before it’s too late)

(I hope it’s not too late)

You know, the story of the ring was this

     emptiness, bliss
     there all along,
     delusion appearing great,
                      feels too strong
     yet empty     empty
                      all along

(Of what?)

(Empty of what?)

That’s the question,
the non-existent rub

(still yearning for the out)

So just existing in this tub

Trading suffering

Not for the first nor last time
        does such (dis)satisfaction
                           (edit upon the moment, day)
        depend upon my mind
and never these infernal conditions
                                manifest by mind

It’s my mind
changing suffering, such!
nature of samsara’s temporary kind

                       So will be relief
when clarity appears to replace
                        this muddled mess –
direct realization: emptiness
            with pure intention
and, please, before death!