This path is for you, alone
and lonely though it seems
that’s just mistaken awareness
that perceives inherent dreams
For though no self is separate
as ordinary we can’t conceive
the pure joy of our existence
what we gain, all beings achieve
sympathy is
I see your suffering, and I relate
empathy is
I see your suffering, and I wish to relate
compassion is
I see your suffering and I wish you to be free from it
bodhichitta is
I cannot bear to see your suffering, so I will become enlightened to free you from it
Most of what we speak & seek
is causes for – and sympathy;
but how much better would life be,
if we abandoned victim mentality?
Why is sorrow such a strange addiction,
so familiar to my mind?
I cannot be free from misery;
it’s all I’ve known and all I’ll find!
— such an easy thing to cry
believing escape from suffering a lie
unknowing there’s a firm way out
for those with patient, faithful eyes,
for those who abandon deluded doubt
— What imagination is this!
what strength it takes to change one’s sight
no material quest could yield such result
for in samsara one cannot do right
— What can one do!
rely upon blessings & elevate intention
remain natural while wishing to help; think:
Oh! What would it really be like
to be happy and kind spontaneously
to face all problems with joyful mind
with strength and courage to defeat all foes
while maintaining love and compassion, I’ll find
it easy for blessings to arise, received and bestowed
I’ll help all living beings with ease and with grace
I’ll abandon delusion, because fearless I face
the appearances that rise and fall –
hallucinations, like dreams –
understanding reality, from mind,
is never as seems
because I’m grasping, anxious, clinging
my stories are hard to let go
I should instead rewrite myself the hero
great responsibility mine, undeniably so
How could I cope with this level of fame?
in anonymity, no one knowing my name
in correct paths I follow
but I must impute
I’m no longer a victim, no longer the brute
seeing myself the lowest of all,
through infinite timelines, I recall
the artist’s drive to wield the sword
settling instead for
ink seldom seen and music sometimes heard
limited proud intention
to right the wrongs and mend men’s minds
still what more can I do but mimic
in appreciation of writers of Blake’s kind
I render copied letter into copied word
Tyger, Tyger burning bright
surprised to find you here tonight
easy confidence, phat face
curly locks, so out of place
twinkle, twinkle, of thyne eye
what is your fearful symmetry?
absent, as one pupil enlarged
brightly burning in furnace forged
what is they breath? thy breast? thy might?
so like a woman in the night!
odd & absent-minded maid
back to cold burner, you do fade
he speaks to her with bleary eye
long-winded and past-wounded
he longs for sympathy, to cry
nearly, he is refusèd
she listens with a weary ear
she’s heard it all before
her heart is hardened, scarred by fear
his hurt she can ignore
what good is sympathy to folks
with pain and broken heart
it is compassion that fixes our flaws
so simple is our part
from compassion comes love
and it’s easy to flourish
exchange self with others
with a quick change of intention
to complete all actions with ease
we develop bodhichitta motivation
with familiarity come all habits
spontaneous, effortless
removing delusions from our mind
we soon derive meaning
from the very thing that was,
from our side, meaningless
develop and meditate upon
correct intention
pray for wisdom
sympathy is
I see your suffering, and I relate
empathy is
I see your suffering, and I wish to relate
compassion is
I see your suffering and I wish you to be free from it
bodhichitta is
I cannot bear to see your suffering, so I will become enlightened to free you from it
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
I am the speaker of the poem
divine entity
beauty, grace
flowing robes and lovely face
sent from heaven unto this place
pure imagination
I am water streaming,
a silent river, sans creepy songs
absent dark tunnels
I, a speaker, fantasy
I, fucking magical
I, ever unseparate from an I
a true personality
untrue
glistening, golden, unafraid
tattooed
cling and clung and am clinging to
lacking inherent-existence-goo
a samsaric stew
a real fuck-you
I, a speaker, falsely accused
lacking permanent subsistence
a temporary view
constantly made anew
I, changing perspective
a bit see-through
emptiness-clue
with good ideas I then undo
I, ever introspective
meditative
on the swift escape route out
I’m wishing you’ll come to
I, the speaker of this poem
invention imagining the spoken you
inception in the meta sense
write it in the present tense
I haven’t really any plans
except to collapse into this poem
when your eyes are diverted
to some other interest, next deserted
from whose side do I exist?
I, the speaker of this poem?
divine entity
beautiful, strong
stunning, intelligent
rarely wrong
who from your mind
came and soon
from your mind
gone
I’m sorry
have we met before?
you say you know me?
I don’t think so
I don’t remember your face
I don’t remember your feel
and though you seem congenial enough
I can’t be sure the emphasis isn’t on con
for you act like you know me
I can assure you, you do not
you talk like I can read your mind
I assure you I cannot
you walk like I know you
I assure you I forgot
you look in my eyes and I think you try
to put a thought in my head
but my soul is dead
and I’m filled with dread
amongst this bread
it’s crummy really
but I can’t!
I cannot read your thoughts
I know not how you feel
I feel not what you know
I hear not what you sow
I quietly mind my own business
so how surprised am I
when I see a glint in your eye
as if responding to mine
as if I should try!
try what?
I cannot try any harder
I can’t try anymore!
I feel as though I’m nerve-wracked
and body-wrecked upon unknown shore
I never knew another soul existed
and I wouldn’t, couldn’t trust one here
so excuse me, though you have insisted
I don’t think we’ve before been near
and though I find it’s hard resisted
I don’t think we’ll love sincere
though I bet your touch starts fire
and somehow sets my heart aflame
I hope I lose this damn desire
for you’re a stranger, only friend in claim
so I must say, I’m sorry sir
I haven’t got the time
though by some you’re called master
it’s your imagination, not mine
I wish I knew a bit more, boy
like who you think I am
I wish I knew your mind, man
there’s no mistake I’d be a fan
though you’ve mistaken my identity
mistook me for somebody else
I became curious, intrigued
fuck it all! it can’t be helped
I am free
listening to
‘The Fear’ by Ben Howard
realization after realization
blessing after blessing pouring in
no longer worrying
that my time is a little unclear
no longer worrying
that I’m losing the ones I hold dear
no longer worrying
that I live my life in the confines of fear
I must not fear
listening to
‘Is That All There Is?’ by Peggy Lee
Fear is the mind-killer
if that’s all there is my friends
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
then let’s go dancing
I will face my fear.
consistent joyful effort is clearly worth it
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
the prayers, the meditation, the patience
When it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
listening to
‘Self Control’ by Laura Branigan
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
I, I live among the creatures of the night
Only I will remain.*
I’m living in the forest of my dream
but I have self-control
I am free
*Frank Herbert, Dune
(alternative title: fucking begging for it)
I want to cry
how is it possible
once again
to become an emotional wreck
of titanic proportions
at least still safely submerged
too sensitive
so overly sensitive!
Please!
Take the sensitivity away!
Sensory overload
at the slightest touch
and now — my imagination!
runs wildly & in wild ways
away
I’m a wreck
characters swarm my mind
barking at me
to write them down
and I cannot find my pen
where has it gone?
again!?
I cannot be barked at
any longer!
It doesn’t make me
any stronger!
I try and try
to not yearn to hear
words of kind sincerity
but again,
like salt water to quench my thirst
a taste and I am thirstier!
a taste and I need more!
Tell me I’m good
Tell me I’m GOOD
TELL me I’m good
Tell me I’M good
Tell ME I’m good
Am I good?
and even if you tell me
it doesn’t matter like it should!
because it’s my mind
that’s not good enough
to see reality clearly
to see past the real lies
deceptive tears, I moan, he cries
and I want him to pay dearly
but it’s that very fucked up mind
that wishes to take from others
in a selfish way,
to have others pay
for my debts owed –
No! No longer!
Although I cannot crucify myself
I can rectify by patiently accepting
while my inner voice still screams
I wish I was invisible
unknowable as I must be,
still the outer quiet spoke volumes
and the sound of silence resonates
reverberates off the walls
as darkness consumes
a single lamp put out
a black night falls
I was not as patient as I could
be I was not as kind as I would
like others to do unto me
A little dramatic, yes
(I wish I wasn’t so dramatic)
but nonetheless
it’s an artist’s reflection I see
Carry on
It’s not temporary happiness I crave
but full abandonment
of these unacceptable delusions
and the permanent happiness
resulting from the stainless mind
that realizes emptiness directly
Please!
Make my mind good
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!
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
I dream about the serenades
I remember each bouquet
I recollect the cards they wrote
I recall sweet things they’d say
I received all the attention,
had a taste of every gift
I enjoyed quality time (a plenty!)
some acts of service, if not swift
and how I miss the ways
they’d touch me, bow me to their will
such kind physical affection
that I crave … desire still
confused pleasure in each moment
mistakenly I named the cause
external force, sexual proponent
when really born from karmic laws
how it feels is empty
how it feels is lost
how it feels was temporary
even now I pay the cost
still missing stupid moments
I still idolize false gods
still failing through each feeling
still attached to what is, was
still hopelessly romantic
I’m still burdened to the core
still looking to step lightly
while still planting seeds of war
still learning love and patience
I still apply effort every day
still seeking Three Jewels of refuge
and for simple blessings I do pray
so when
I dream about the serenades
smell a sweet bouquet,
find the cards in deep dark drawers,
and reread things they’d say
I let the attachment slip away
the feeling cannot stay
The Halfwit Writer