Categories
Poetry

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

Categories
Poetry

way out within

there is a portal
escape route out
             no need to scream
             no need to shout

is it above us?
or is it below?
             it cannot be without
             it is within we go

and when we discover
the truth that lies therein
             that all is mind, is empty
             pure and free of sin

only happiness resides
in our pure, loving core
             only a kind, peaceful
             consciousness, forevermore

(the question is,
             do you want it?)

Categories
Poetry Saturday Expressions

What now? | Session 18

If it was never fixed,
    it can’t be rebroken

yet it’s shattered now completely

while I am made whole

I have been repurposed
                   utterly renewed

now I know
         freedom,     not heartache,
         ensues

amazing – I waited
                   so patiently —
. . .
         okay, no
                    I begged
I literally got on my knees and pleaded

(humiliating really)

for C L O S U R E

I practically pulled my own teeth for it

(I simply stole a toothbrush instead)

I was intoxicated by the lust for a bitter end –

while being denied it again and again

knowing it’s going to come
inevitably

so I begged for early release

the buildup was incredible
intense at times

(filled with that crazed yearning)

but, as it so often is, then withheld

so when the climax didn’t come

time went by and trepidation

S t R e t c H e d

to a numbed oblivion, almost
forgotten – then rediscovered and

(as I was waiting for, begging for)

followed by the instant explosion,

so incredibly quick we call brief into question

a lit fuse to a pinch of dynamite

I waited for the punch! And it never came

it merely sizzled
                 a spark, lacking flame
                                  and while I wish

so strongly, I could say,       you too
were just a sizzle to me

instead I just admit you were a strong second

(sorry, never a first)

and of course such thirst for you

has permanently ended

no hurt            no difficult goodbye

no hard feelings

             just sweet, sweet relief

what now?

Enlightenment

Categories
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?

Categories
Buddhism Poetry

Time Tempts Belief

hard to believe
Time, hardly passed
          and a mark, already here
nearly two years
          and a different mind
has appeared, so many times over

nearly two years ago
you claimed me
unsteady, unstable,
          toxic and cold
now, not two years passed
and I’m too goddamned
          stable and heart-of-gold fast,
too nice for any old soul
          how goddamned depressing
                    for this romantic dolt

time after time, rejected
for incredible conventional reason
understanding it’s karmic creation
                    — nothing personal of course
while feeling deeply personal
a reality of my own making
just the swiftest vehicle
                    my own preference for
navigating Niagara roads

still hard to accept sometimes
          it’s the life I needed, I chose
thank you, my kind Spiritual Guide,
for ripening such conditions —
from which I could never hide
and one day will appreciate
          more than my present self knows

Categories
Buddhism Poetry

Such Silly Suffering

Why do I feel so sad 
to release my suffering?

I know its source! And still!
I cling like stickseed 

burred burdens born
impossible to remove

without wisdom realizing
the true nature of all things

impermanent
not existing inherently

so what does that mean
when I cling so

to this suffering
inborn familiarity

infinite lifetimes old
makes 21 day habits

impossibly young
and still, we must

abide by these present
physical laws in order

to attain the higher 
understandings and escape

of ultimate Enlightenment
for the benefit of

all living beings
the only way to make

any meaning of my
present suffering

Categories
Buddhism Philosophy Poetry

The Deserter’s Confession

To desert – to leave someone, especially lacking 

Desert – a dry place barren or lacking of water, and therefore life, typically characterized by sand or rocky substrate  


Have I deserted others? I have been repenting for abandonment – all while running from those in need, in this very life.

I have grown attached to comfortable conditions and yet things are changing. Although I know the years bear varied fruits, I still expect a consistency inconsistent with samsara, and now I am frustrated and my wishes are unfulfilled!

What can I possibly do to bear the burdens and great sufferings of this life but go for refuge to the Three Jewels – the only glimmer of gold available to protect my mind until I reach full Enlightenment. I will always be vulnerable to the illusion-like elements, believing them to be inherently existent and external to my mind! Ha! A joke and a lie grasped at by a self-cherishing, ignorant mind. 

Please, Buddha! Ripen a Dharma Jewel in my mind that I may no longer abide in such senseless suffering knowing that I create causes, I purify negativity, I grow merit in abundance, especially by remaining ever mindful and alert to the delusions that arise continuously in my mind, nonstop, as I breathe. To fight against this endless deluge, a magnificent current, is only possible through blessings (a miracle indeed)!

Praise to Buddha, the neverending source of happiness guiding all my steps, so that I may always keep a happy mind and so I might attain Enlightenment for the benefit of all living beings! How wonderful I have this precious opportunity. I will not take it for granted and I will not waste time wishing things would be easier or faster. What benefit is that to me when my primary goal is to end samsara permanently? I will be patient. I will wait quietly. I will not seek revenge. I will take responsibility for my negative karma. I will act as a Bodhisattva, now, in the present, even as I’m becoming one. I will bring the future result into the present which is simply happiness – for whatever arises is bliss and emptiness and we’ll wake up laughing, seeing it was here all along. 

And after all, how far off can we really be?

All we have to do is give up grasping at this dream. 

I will desert the dream. 

I renounce samsara.

But I will not abandon living beings. I will come back to help all others. For my goal is not, nor ever, solitary peace.

No matter how much I think I may enjoy the quiet.

I will not live in the desert.

Categories
Poetry

Delayed Gratification

I have promised patience
in exchange for a kingdom of happiness

I have promised patience
in exchange for an appearance of love

I have promised patience
in exchange for unattached enjoyments

I have promised patience
for you, so we can complete the path together

So I wait, like a princess in her tower
with patience, my Buddha nature I empower

I promised patience, and I wait for you
with faith unwavering, my heart is true.

Categories
Buddhism Poetry

Constant Craving

I want to be
someone who loves you

with no demands
with no expectations
with no history of delusion

I want to be
the pure love always within you

yet still,
I cherish only myself

I want you to see me
I want you to love me

because of this
damned self-grasping

And then I laugh remembering
we is just a dream

Categories
Buddhism Meditation Poetry

cramped in the tub

I am in the tub

I am dissatisfied
this tub has taken me nowhere
I’ve been round this way before

it ended with suffering

slit wrists in the clawfoot
or just the bath water ran cold

It ended with suffering
and I wanted escape

from the tub

*

I can’t out-damn-spot my misery

I can’t wash away the pain

purification doesn’t exactly work that way —
unless we carefully imagine it does (in four steps)

but who has the mindfulness for that?

not I, as I search for meaning in this worthless pleasure

careful not to throw out the baby with the bath water

I transform this all-too-addictive
suffering through wisdom, and will
tuck this teaching

into the continuum as I tuck myself
into bed

careful not to slip as I stand and step

out of the tub