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
Tag: ignorance
Categories
Impermanence
from happy to sad
so quickly
it never lasts
it never lasts
it never lasts
Categories
Remain ordinary?
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
Categories
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
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
Antidote
I do not want vacations
I do not want jewels
I don’t mind bouquets of flowers
but someone must take them out
when they begin to rot and stink
and I am busy spending ink
I don’t want riches
I don’t want gold
I don’t mind pearls
but that’s because they’re a symbol of purity
– at least that’s what I’m told
I don’t want to hoard for when I’m old
I don’t want too much trouble
I’ll just take enough
to prepare me, make me stronger
for when things inevitably get tough
I don’t want to be a mark
I don’t want to be a thief
I don’t want to receive more
than my share of beef
I don’t want my own car
I don’t want my own house
I don’t want to own pets
or really anything else!
It may sound a little lazy
it may even sound lame
but I’ll take a peaceful life
unburdened by such wanton things
It’s all really perverse –
this cruel misunderstanding
of how reality exists
manically apart and magnetically banding
I do not want the wool
pulled over my eyes
I do not want to ignore
the suffering, the cries
I wish to be free from it all
and collect only the treasure of Dharma
for there is no practice too small
and all experiences are karma
I do not want vacations
I do not want jewels
I desire no relationship
I no longer suffer fools
with all my mind in refuge
every moment, every day
it’s incredible how quickly
the three poisons fade away
Categories
Imagination | Session 20
Imagination is a funny thing
Can be a vile thing
A wildling, can motivate
Or desecrate
With or without the evidence
Mind makes its own proof
Mind draws me in attachment
Then makes me act aloof
Imagination is a lonely thing
Appearing individual and separate
Travels as though disparate
Never in one place
Ever pervading space
Remembering those I’ve met
Ever scheming, making bets
Ever brushing against yours
Yet pretending we’re all bores
How can we rely upon such a beast?
For it’s our untuned vehicle
Rattles over bumps and around curves
Unoiled, rusted, nearly busted
Soft, moth-eaten, torn-fabric seats
Our minds have been used and abused
We’re so confused, and we’re always
Giving our power to those who prey
Who eat away all day to get their fill
Upon the lonelies,
the innocents, the broken
Those who have not awoken
Those whose hearts have turned to clay
Moldable, opposable yet breakable
When dry and old and grey
May my mind not go that way
Imagination is a funny thing
A lovely thing
Can make you sing,
When you fill yourself with love and understanding
Gives you courage to jump
Lets you float before landing
And how can we access this happy mind alone?
One that helps others
Defends against crones
Simple as this
Control your mind
Or someone else will
Categories
she didn’t wake up
she was looking for love
in all the wrong places
lighting a cigarette
outside the empty bar
buys her own drinks
what’s she waiting for?
Enlightenment?
she trots off into the night,
dragging her smoke-ring-halo
absent lamp light, fog rimmed
starlit trails
observed by her full moon gaze –
but does she exist without witness?
she was looking for love
eyes wide shut
snaked-eyed-luck
coffee breath and memories
of last year’s shitty fuck
did I cum?
skating down an icy street
pleasantly, legally high
wishing to die
she escapes on by
narrowly avoiding being struck
ignores the honks
oversized jacket, wonky look
she reaches inside for her last dart
it falls from shakey fingers, on ice, wet, breaking
and if that isn’t the straw
as she falls to her knees
and pleads with the dream,
— her own mind of course —
please release me
wake up
wake up
Categories
loathsome whispers
the voices whisper
people loathe you
the voices snicker
alone alone alone
a false chant
separate separate separate
a real deluded rant
awful awful awful
in four-four time, or sometimes three
you can’t count anymore!
I used to play the violin
and you can’t read anymore!
the voices tell half-truths
and you believe us!
the voices are half-believed, half-won already
you’ve lost, give up
a nasty thought, a remorseful tale
we are the guards!
I’d rather be the hammer than the nail
your mind’s in jail!
I’d plan escape, but where to run
we’re just beginning our fun!
for the mind will follow, as shadows after the sun
stop with the rhymes, already!
the voices whisper
people loathe you
the voices snicker
alone alone alone
a false chant
separate separate separate
a real deluded rant
fearful fearful fearful
with the ability to abandon
no no no!
I expel the poison, the voices
so long good bye adieu
and freedom pursue
footnote: if you’re going through hell, keep going
footnote 2: to love, to cherish, to be patient, to be kind, to be virtuous, to remember all is mind, this will get you through
Categories
objectification
(alternative title: Self-Assessment)
I think my leg would make a nice lamp
soft, supple, curved, and round
a good squeeeeeeze
if you look me up from down
squish in the right place –
and in the wrong
in front, a bright and lumpy face
from behind, like every other PAWG
near-perfect ass – not too phat in size
nicely shaped when I fold in half
showing off some thick-ass thighs
and big-ass ribs
an hour glass shape
with small-ass tits
deceiving, yes
disappointing, almost entirely
but most aren’t interested
in being surprised or disappointed
and so I’m left here unanointed
unbaptized but virginal – ah! a wish!
almost believable, but deceitful kiss
when every swing returns a miss
except for the three, a perfect strike-out
who pitched to me? and filled me with doubt?
I think my arm would make a nice branch
muscular, freckled, smooth, and strong
nice to tooooooouch
to whom does it belong?
what soul could search and find
a truly existent body
independent of a truly existent mind?
no one!
could it be a limb to build a nest?
could it be a place of eternal rest?
could these arms wrap you up
and hold you firm?
or tickle-torture until you squirm?
and would you understand
such impermanent nature?
or is your reliance political,
predisposed to legislature?
squeeeeeeze instead
evaluate
and don’t forget
your mind creates
and ever empties your plate
but also fills you up
objectify this human creation
dismantle parts with imagination
for the whole is empty but of name
and our mind is non-separate
we’re almost the same
let last words be of virtue, love
a wish for other’s happiness
and though I fit you like a glove
we play this silly game of chess
you read these words,
you leave them here,
we’re left confused
filled up with fear
and then I pray and dance about
and use this body, to move, to shout
and once again I live so free
to end all fears and misery
all I’ve got’s one disbelief
– how could it be only me?
The Halfwit Writer 