Categories
Firescape Fridays Philosophy Poetry

Inner Monologue | FF 23

A political ideology is always faulty
and, lacking inherent existence, temporary
empty of true philosophy
each strawman finds himself merely
propped up in dependence
                    – in most cases –
upon a fat paycheck,
pockets stuffed with straw
and sometimes a free iPhone X

We witness a dreamlike hologram
feeling like it’s played out before
hollow men assailed by eight concerns
running to this part of the world and that
searching for sensual pleasures
                    – or escaping crap –
a quick high, come down, fall flat
putting it all online, shamelessly on the line
and still, with each desire filled
birthing seven more in place
and as the siren’s wine is spilled
each vice is found and chased

I know the appearance to be empty
I know it’s just the karma of this life
arising moment by each moment
ever changing, temporary, light
only made serious in grasping
and how we hold the tendency so tight
we struggle to create a better habit
to remember all appearance dreamlike
is just effects of actions of past mind
and in present moment torment
patient endurance does just fine
as never for discouragement
could I justify a moment’s time

While we wish it would be easy
and that others’ take our pain
there never was a politician
who sacrificed money or his name
and if I need a hero
                    – and certainly I do –
I just put Dharma into practice
maintaining faith & pure virtue
and never was a better hero
than my internal motive true
mixed with my Spiritual Guide
and all of Buddhas’ blessings too

Oh how my success is guaranteed! and
perhaps because my name means halfwit
I won’t cling to one inborn habit
finding no meaning in madness
I abandon gross self conceptuality
and break attachment to all pleasures brief
now seeing clearly the suffering it brings
not to mention pervading disappointment
hearing “Is that all there is?” old Peggy Lee sings
wondering, doubting that we’ll learn
caught in a world lacking honourable kings
I will not find a perfect ordinary being

It does no good to stomp and yearn
or spend much time out in search
of something I could never find
in this world and in this time
a (single) man – no, not even one –
who knew when to speak or hold his tongue
and understood why war was waged and won,
a man who lives with honour
and dies by sword
or                  – at the very least –
can keep his word
perhaps he has philosophy
more than a mishmash of newage trickery
a value system tried and true
but then… he would have time for… who?

No, no such person could exist
but female fantasies persist;
so this hero imagined
I take it upon myself to become
and just crank up the volume
if I wish to feel strings, bass and drum
enjoying skin-kiss from torrid summer sun
that sensual object simply swapped
for this other one
changing suffering is all we appear
until awakened from this cursed nightmare
happy ever after begins to seem
no more than an impossible dream

Yet it’s also my firm work-in-progress
because effects must arise
as no action is wasted
and His compassion prophesied
all beings become enlightened
all happy, all free
it won’t be found in samsara
won’t arise from this political crime spree –
we ourself abandon bullshit
and gain control of our mind
with spontaneous understanding
we take it upon ourself to be kind
no other can take responsibility
for this, your one precious life
for when swallowed by death
you leave this world for the next
and there is no remember
no refuge, no best
no freedom, just sufferings
for aeons, without rest

Making use of this life
means bowing out of the race
I haven’t the time
I can’t keep worldly pace
my focus and practice is a spiritual drive
never separate, never selfish
never political nor so contrived
understanding my actions imprint on all minds
I refrain from harming others
and strive to be wise
always increasing my wisdom
and with blessings apply
each Dharma teaching in correct stride
this cannot be mandated nor politicized
for a Spiritual Path is individual
and                  – in most cases –
private, not public,
but for each, he decides
when to opt out and regain control
of his conscious awareness
and reprogram his soul
until then, never satisfied

I cannot help but laugh
at the fake tears our politicians cry
even as some will believe their lies
I laugh because I am not surprised
and I will not be corrupted
                    – even in spite –
because happiness is only comprised
of parts found within the mind
                    – never outside –
so I cannot be bought
I will not run nor hide
and having removed the delusions
pure loving peace now abides
so I can truly help others
without self
                    – or political ties.

Categories
Poetry

Controlled Demolition

Everyone expects

      A bang!

           A surprise!

     Shock and chaos
        reflected in wide blue eyes

But falling in its own footprint

The detritus simply smokes

Blinding our eyes
                little surprise
      we can’t realize

The truth of the state
                 which we create

Too close we’ve come
        too far we’ve been
we now seek something in between

In degenerate times
    it is impossible to build purely

Follow the path out
         and do not rejoice in death

make good use of this little time left

Categories
Poetry

The White Rose

note: poem conceptualized & written in 2020

Petals fall from
the white rose
encased but ignored
left on loop
but no one is there
to watch the rewind
meaning it’s hollow
not empty
still, like
rats’ feet over broken glass
no more to start or
stop a revolution or war.

Petals fall from
the white roses
marking graves of fallen
soldiers who tell their
story of glory after death
words spill from a curator’s lips
or a historian’s pen tip
tales of heroism
what brutality
fighting for peace, wisdom, clarity
against another mind to somehow
find it within one’s own.

War has been on my mind
as it so often is when
I find myself waiting in fatal quiet
reality augmented by the furtive hive mind
observing and denying
battles now fought
in sedated silence
behind television screens
behind cell phone screens
the ones woven through
our own digits
stiffened and stuck to
lite brite pointillism.

White roses bloom
in my smoke-filled room
red petals litter the floor
grey petals fall from the ceiling
ashes in graves and washed on shore
and what does it matter now
hope is a word said
       nevermore
hope is a word bathed in doubt
so trade for belief and see
wish for a deep faith to be
the peace already in you
the love already in me

I heard an opinion
like the white rose, inoffensive
neither right nor wrong
simply an idea
made tangible by
a horrific co-creation
of present reality
present time an
indian-given gift
an offensive slur
cancelled at the last
moment      – free speech no more.

Forgetting that     to offend
is a mind-made act
    a self-made attack
complete control given
to the red queen
whose only goal
is to hang the noose
about your neck
and wring the pennies
from your purse
yet it’s just      the dream
that is your curse.

Now prick your finger
on the white rose’s thorn
made empty in parts
by how you define
your relations with
the world you find
outside your front door
for all is your mind
      and          our history written
from one point of view
always makes ignorant
all but a few

Categories
Firescape Fridays Poetry

My Mask Slips | FF 8

I have begun to forget my mask

I have started longing to be open about my dissent
from new normal

I am not a pawn to progress political agendas
and power struggles

Just a person longing for the rights & freedoms &
peace of her parents

Was divorce a prediction of politicians’
same social strategies?

Yelling, arguing toward dominion
never peace

If we remove the masks we hide behind &
relent our ruthless blaming

Can we find another way,
more loving, to behave?

Categories
Book Recommendation Philosophy

Book Recommendation | 1

I want to recommend Terry Goodkind’s Sword of Truth Series (of which I’ve read the original 11), bringing special attention to my favourite in the series, Faith of the Fallen.

Never have I read a fantasy, nor any novel for that matter, that sticks so fastidiously to upholding the honour and value of truth, logic and reason. There is a strong case for Goodkind’s argument that his books are not fantasy due to his honouring human nature before the fantastical elements. The magic he introduces is very natural and works with the humanity of his characters, never against it. 

And let’s talk about the hero: what a dream! Meet Richard, a humble woods guide turned wizard as he discovers the truth about magic, the world, and who he actually is, The Seeker. His nobility is uncovered throughout the series which is a marvelous allegory of the complicated struggle between good and evil. Through the development of the protagonists, Richard and Kahlan, we see how they work to restore peace, balance and truth to the world. 

excerpt from Faith of the Fallen by Terry Goodkind

Goodkind’s series is exciting, dark, light, easy to read, and masterfully crafted. Despite its criticism, I have fallen in love with The Sword of Truth series and especially Faith of the Fallen.

I first read Faith of the Fallen over six years ago. In particular, this installment touched me because of the strong parallels it draws to our present bureaucratic quicksand, governing hypocrisies, the hopeless despair and laziness of modern man, and how, in the end, Richard moves people to take action to free themselves from their own enslavement. As the back cover describes, the book really is “a novel of the nobility of the human spirit.”

Freedom requires effort if it is to be won and vigilance if it is to be maintained. People just don’t value freedom until it’s taken away.

Terry Goodkind

I’m sitting down for a re-read right now!  How are you spending this glorious sunny day? 

Categories
Firescape Fridays Poetry

And the Path is Dark | FF 2

For the first time in history
We have lost daily danger
Robots doing most arduous work
Steadfast protection from perceived external threats

So we no longer fight to live
Turning our choices over to untrained professionals
Motivated by momentary monetary gains
Unhappy lacking distraction in still moments

We interchanged dogmas
So we can scoff at virtue, instead
Worshipping power and profit strawmen
Spiritual faith exchanged for political cocksucking

We are no longer compelled to fix ourselves
We are machinery now repairable with medication
Our bodies broken before birth
Necessitating genetic modification

We manipulate nature’s randomness
We have erased beauty because man perceives
Chaos where nature reigns pure and cyclical
Revealing the path we walk now is narrow

Not spacious and hopeful and bright