Categories
Poetry

Feels good, man (but for how long)

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!

Categories
Poetry

A fickle thing

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

Categories
Poetry

How does it feel?

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


Categories
Buddhism Philosophy Poetry

Reality

Some things come
Some things go
At least that’s what
We think we know

Yet no thing can rise
And no thing can fall
For there is no out there
Mind is all