Tag: grasping

Impermanence

from happy to sad

so quickly

it never lasts

Tags attachment, bi polar, craving, delusions, depression, grasping, happiness, ignorance, Impermanence, karma, middle way, non wisdom, reflection, samsara, this too shall pass, wisdom

Poetry

The earth movers are
moving, rolling, crawling,
pushing and prodding,
chewing and producing,
reforming earth, not new
a spherical cycle
we cannot seem to undo
because there’s no beginning
as if time isn’t true
no start to these effects
no one to lay cause-mic blame with —
              — Is there no first?

If an action is not performed
its result cannot be experienced
yet, we have results upon results
                     that we do not want
or right wishes ripen at wrong times —
— How did we get so messed up?

Meeting instructions time and again
only to turn to worldly things instead —

–What for?
     The status? The stress? The money? The dress? The food? The car? All the gold and the stars? The sun and the moon and that catchy tune? This silly girl? That handsome guy? To hunt the deer? To swat the fly? To fuck that guy? To steal that heart? To flaunt your glory? To meet and part? To taste the spoils? To lose at war? To break most promises? To endure and endure?

What for!

Is it everything you wanted to find?
Is it a wonder to know
                      it’s all from your mind?

the pain and the laughter,
       all the dreamlike appearance

the senses and delights
               the agony and fights

we hurt our own feelings
we stab our own backs
we rob our own purses
our own courage lacks

when will we learn
to break a silly curse
we need only three words
   –why do they hurt?

It’s my responsibility

No, not of this time
not of this place
not of this name
and not of this face

But causes created aeons ago
ripen around me, blow by hard blow
some happy, some sad
some angry, some blue
some maddening disasters
some friends I once knew
for so long without wisdom
I watched in horror, despair
             Oh! What can I do?

No better than an earth mover
moving, rolling, crawling,
fulfilling my own wishes,
pushing and prodding,
swallowing and producing,
making new dirt, not new
a spherical cycle
we cannot seem to undo
because there’s no beginning
as if time isn’t true
no start to these causes
that produce these effects
so with patient acceptance
I now practice with perfect intention
with a pure, faithful, trained mind
remembering dreamlike appearance
to see emptiness directly
                   with clear wisdom eyes

Tags Buddhist writer, Canadian, dharma, dharma practice, grasping, happiness, ignorance, meaningful life, patience, poem, Poetry, profound clarity, renunciation, three jewels, wisdom, wisdom realizing emptiness

Poetry

Sensational Assault

shining jewel clusters
        break open the escarpment
like precious stones waiting to be mined
        brilliant leafy treasure
             blasts of magnificent colour
                  explode across the rocky grandstand
             backdrop to the season’s splendor
        its once generous green given way
        to greedy autumn’s foliage display

absent emeralds
        stolen by nature’s alchemy
   redeemed for rubies, garnets
                            amber, gold
        the greatest illusion
              of    tempered grandeur
        before the bitter cold

it should be forbidden
        that beauty unfolds
        so lithely in loveliness
                before its death
dappled luster’s ugliness
                only revealed up close
moths have chewed endlessly
        leafy veins, now begging bowls
blackened edges encase
                               slug-gobbled holes
not unlike the singed suffering
        of cigarette-burned abuse

maple’s steepled points
                   waxed and dried
crunchy now upon crisp earth
        hard to understand its worth
        its place in time,
        once life, once food
        now dead, now dearth

and oh the scents! I cannot forget
     the dampened clay and rotting fern
        sickly sweet suckles long dried up
a sun-baked bog with willowed dregs
the sunflowered smells twist into sound
scritch-scratching of squirrel toes in trees
chipmunks squeak, thin branches break
                           acorns land in leaves
a buzz of daubers, wasps and bees
        harmonized with the last cicada song
too soon the symphony will cease
               and tarsi tickles won’t be found
not for so long!            so if you please…

I beg for just a bit of time
        to exhaust under this dying sun
        that scalds with will to kill all life
        that incinerates the weak and blind
leave me alone to work my mind
        and feel the last blaze of the year
        striving not to shed a tear
        striving not to feel false fear
that knights permanence on temporary conditions

I will be strong        and wise
        and remain loving, kind
though winter has its eternal quality
        once here, ne’er gone
                still… it must go eventually
                we’ll see…

just let me loaf in this season’s sun
        to soak in such sensational torture –
                   intense, so brief, so fun –
                        ending soon,
                        hardly begun

Tags autumn, canadian author, Canadian poetry, changing seasons, creative writing, fall, forest, grasping, ignorance, nature, poem, Poetry, seasons, seasons change, senses, writing

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

Tags attachment, autumn, creative writing, discrimination, emptiness, enlightenment, fall, feeling, freedom, grasping, ignorance, loss, nature, poem, Poetry, reality, realization, seasons, seasons change, time

Poetry

Another Bloody Craving (ABC)

Post author By K. Samways
Post date November 26, 2024
No Comments on Another Bloody Craving (ABC)

(alternative title: The ABCs of Growing Up)

Thirst coming in clutch
comes on too strong
the energy’s too much
lasts far too long
yet never’s enough

I once yearned
for a spot of light
until I learned
some like to fight
such fortune earned

I bent backward
I yielded growth
I bent forward
I broke my oath,
agony endured

Fabricated not firm
appearance dreamlike
so in dream pain squirm
in fog we hike
confused we burn

One time, way back
I felt this way
so out of whack
the sky was gray
her love was lack

Now this heart resists
cracked and dejected
while slow time persists
this heart again rejected
knowing the risks

I don’t plan to push
of course, I’ll pray
I don’t plan to rush
as hasty visions fade away
you’ll catch me blush

At last to end on happy note
may my mind be clear
may my face emote
may I hold all beings dear
and refuge close
and may I be free

Buddhism Philosophy Poetry

What is man?

Man
ignorant being
lucky opportunity
nearly impossible to find
how stupid to throw it away

Is man stupid?

Man argues about
what to be called
how to be perceived
as if possible to control
externally!

Man abandons his own mind
aids his own demise
has every chance at happiness
but cannot wait
for temporary satisfaction to subside
before another yearning must arise
chase chase chase die!

Just watch!

What is man?

A near-beast, I am
though, for the first time
seeing the trap
I have the instructions
a treasure route, escape map
as man, as woman
it matters not!

Only that we try
and we do try!
to grasp this
nearly impossible to find
lucky opportunity
non-ignorant being
man

Tags be offended, Buddhism, context, creative writing, emptiness, grasping, human, human nature, humanity, identity, ignorance, inherent existence, karma, man, philosphy, poem, Poetry, reality, rebirth, reputation, woman

Buddhism Philosophy Poetry

Consistently Mistaken

I thought when I received, I would be grateful.

I wasn’t.

I thought to be pursued would be fun, a real romp.

It wasn’t.

I thought to be beheld as beautiful could give me confidence, know my beauty.

It didn’t.

I thought to be loved to could open my heart, make me love.

It couldn’t.

I thought when tested, I would pass.

I didn’t.

“We will only engage in pure spiritual practice if we have definitely understood that we have a precious human life and we have to use it now. We can die today. It’s possible.”
Gen-la Kunsang, Kadampa Podcast