Pisces new moon low
brings end to dreamy season
leaving wistful glow
Categories
New Moon Energy
Tag: feeling
Categories
Question 9
From where does the sorrow come? 10.22.21
Categories
Precipitation
Spring rain washes ‘way
last year’s odd residuals
feelings that won’t stay
A collection of skulls & such –
Death & Impermanence in ink & watercolour
I will definitely die. There is no way to prevent my body from finally decaying. Day by day, moment by moment, my life is slipping away. I have no idea when I will die; the time of death is completely uncertain. Many young people die before their parents, some die the moment they are born – there is no certainty in this world. Furthermore, there are so many causes of untimely death. The lives of many strong and healthy people are destroyed by accidents. There is no guarantee that I will not die today.
Geshe Kelsang Gyatso, The New Meditation Handbook
Categories
Break the Chain
I no longer wish to meet those
who make me regret my virtue
of course, I can’t excuse my own forfeit of mind
and I never would regret virtuous intention
even when challenged!
Instead, I see clearly that in samsara
there exists no real happiness, no good reputation
no wealth, no status, no good condition
not only failure, misery, and criticism
not only lowly status and painful position
but always departing from what we love
and too often meeting what we hate!
So if i have any regret, it’s saved
for actions throwing me lower than the grave
then I purify completely in three more steps
with reliance, opponent force and firm promise
never again laying claim to hateful mind
never again to drink addictive poisons
never again to grasp, to crave
never again to begin again
the beginningless cycle of suffering
this lifetime I break the chain!
I will die without regret
having used every momently wisely
a cause-creator, achieving true happiness
To feel too deeply
and to be unable to feel
are my two greatest sufferings
and to grasp at the feelings
as inherently existent
my greatest ignorance, their source
Categories
confusing conditions
built to be broken
& cracked down to dust
born to be suffered
offend and break trust
invented to abscond
tried to be trashed
told to fuck off
& thrashed for a laugh
samsara’s play buckles
pulls out all the stops
the audience participation
wallops a good punch
nonsense and dream world
collide innocent
how do awful things ripen?
can we prevent one torment?
it hurts so we harden
it pricks so we hack
all beauty to pieces
even though it doesn’t last
on its own
what pride can be held
in accomplishing the same
as time does with no effort
robbing us of each name
revenge becomes pointless
as our hearts become stone
I press, we must realize our mind
‘cause I can’t take this pain
all apparent losses
grief felt again and again
all relationships tarnish
all chaos lets loose
I thought this time was different
and so volunteered for the noose
but from this redundant perspective
it’s so easy to see
I was built to be broken
& caged to be freed
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
Categories
Spring Renewal, an endless cycle
I can feel time slowly slipping through my fingers
frictionless to hold a second for a second moment
before falling through the ether into near nothingness
imprinted on continuum
a seed carried life to life
until conditions are right
to ripen the fruit on an unsuspecting self
— I am sorry
But how can it be helped?
I cannot squeeze this self into another
instead I chip away at delusions
from the inside out
destroying deluded doubt
and always at play
never a day spent away from refuge
and still I fight a deluge
of intense suffering
always threatening
to drown a silly me
how can it be
at war with three
extract My poisons, please!
Oh doctor of holy medicine,
I am a sick being
full of rotten feeling
still misunderstanding compassion
still giving with miserly ration
still confused at apparent separation
what can I do
I sit and contemplate emptiness
I feel like less and less
I can impress others
I merely offend
with no ability to comprehend
how meaningless it all is
without a pure intention
to worry about such brief condition
when I could be creating
a beautiful future feeling
and care for other instead
please, mend my broken head
Please, mend my broken heart
so that I may finally start
to love, to give happiness
and understand what comes does part
although appearing, no longer relating
to mistaken imputation
and while all expectations break
and friends do talk and fuck and fake
until the joy becomes real
and pain is permanently healed
may my pure virtue be revealed
through blessings be shared
and eventually may I care
only for other, selflessly
give me such pure appearance
so with happiness, I’ll dance
and, just perhaps,
give pure love chance after chance
Categories
Question 3
Where do you feel the music?
07.03.20
The Halfwit Writer 