having over-assumed wisdom
having been used for others’ own ends
I am puddled
a fractal coastline
after catastrophe
…
where should I find fault?
Categories
Unilluminated
Tag: emptiness
Categories
A sad song
I am hurting
deeply wounded
to my core
only this time –
it’s not personal
it’s nothing I’ve done or haven’t done
at least not recently
it’s not who I am, rather
it’s who I’ve been
it’s not what I didn’t do
it’s what I’ve done countless times over
self-cherished, ignorant
born into imprints, big boots to fill
innocently believing in myself
not as an enlightened being
but merely inherently existent
(betraying myself)
harmfully, forever non truth
making up our non reality
collectively
O, to escape a cage that has no bars!
Where’s one run? Where’s one go?
we dance and shake and make do
and then – handed instructions,
mapped, a perfect escape route
tested, tried, and true
a happy result, always
I would dare – but alone?
why will no one come with me?
will no one come with me?
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
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
All the conditions
all the instructions
all the sorrows
the pains
the long introductions
you should know suffering
and develop intention
You have all the conditions
all the instructions
all the pleasures
such joys
you should know these are temporary
called changing suffering
and seek the wisdom realizing
emptiness instead
Categories
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!
Categories
A fickle thing
I started to lose interest
where it began, I cannot tell –
was it diseases of delusions?
or the medications as well?
Aversion to sugar
I dislike that sweet —
but a little too tart?
sours my treat
A dash of salt
is too salty still
when I want a
silly snack
Creamy vanilla
or buttered plain
are two with simple
lack
Yet mocha dark
or caramel glazed
are off my beaten
path
So what is it I fancy?
what is it I crave?
and what will satisfy me?
or quick become depraved?
For once a pleasure rises
a pleasure, she must fall
and he who sympathizes with
attachment
is he who loses all
For grasping at an object,
impermanent, illusion best
is ignorance, the birthplace
of delusions, all the rest
So what will satisfy me
external to my mind?
Nothing nothing no thing
for all that is
is named, is mind
Categories
Kinda feels like “going”
It always ends
like a Robert Frost poem
he speaks
in a language she does not understand
she tries,
but he is wizened, suspicious
innocence has no place on a tired vine
bird shit scattered over the fields
wash your produce, she says
and he takes it all wrong
“What’s she on about now
I’m tired of it”
he’s cracking, she’s cracked
yes, when we resign our wills
to others,
when we bend
we believe we will not break
until the ripping point is reached
will another aimless traveler
risk his life to rescue me
or shall I unravel the web
I’m caught in
and escape myself
after all,
there is no independent existence
You search for conventional cause
but come up empty handed
not quite the emptiness you seek
because the suffering is still there
the realness of a wound laid bare
and why not rub salt in it —
we’re out of control anyway
a disappointing dream, yes, sore
red, raw, sinewy once more
the band aid won’t stick
and the solitary peace that binds,
too, won’t stick in spite of such mess
Shariputra’s demon will not
prevent my efforts as a spiritual warrior
even if injured once more
after all, we’re all lunatics in
the madhouse of samsara
arrogant prisoner
trapped
hard to believe it’s not permanent
until we move beyond
conventional cause
you want to be angry,
but on what authority?
what justification could you have
for such delusion?
Thinking of virtue, compassion and love
-how do you forget love?
the simple wish for others to be happy
I am so sorry for you that you
do not know this feeling
a flame carried for all living beings
despite my own suffering
‘cause that’s life
and what say you to that?
that in a moment of weakness
we see it all
and having been forsaken, both,
and both put through hell
and failing miserably
to the lower realms we could descend
if this silly hatred doesn’t end
it’s temporary anyway
do you resist?
Categories
Part of it all
<1>
I want to be
part of it all
not individual and alone
not an add-on, but integral
I want my purity to be yours
and I want to spark the virtue
in all minds, together
like water, taking shape
I want to see
the aggregate of aggregates
“I” am
I want to see the “I” differently
so I am not trickster-trapped
by selfish self-cherishing
grasping the most important “me”
I want to be
the cedar on the rock,
the bark on the trunk,
a drop of water in the earth
a molecule of worth
immeasurable yet meaningful
a part of it all
The Halfwit Writer 