Tag: reality

Categories
Poetry

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

Categories
Poetry

Wish for Wisdom

(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

Categories
Dreams Poetry

On Being a Writer (this time)

I have entered the dream world
          it is dark
                  madness ensues
      I’ve come unglued
monsters lurk and
      a peculiar quirk
has taken hold of me
      reality      not what it seems

I have entered the dream state
           it passes over my waking eyes
a film, betraying a wild guise
      a darkness taking over me
absent     absent is the light
      in a nightmare world
full of haunting fright
         how could it feel so right!

I have entered the dream
  I see its walls surrounding me
seemingly limitless,
      yet I cannot run further
than my limitations
      in a meat puppet state
I cannot wait any longer
      to start becoming stronger
I must lucid make
            my dull dreaming mind
I cannot afford to become unkind
                             — not now! —
and forget …

I must remember the dream
             has taken hold of me
it’s pulled me in and under
and threatens to rip asunder
                        all that I’ve worked for
all that my continuum has worked for
                  to lose all I have and more
           futures of past work
            I cannot be the jerk
that throws it all away
and yet,
            I cannot be the one to stay

I must wake up!

Still, I have been pulled under
         I have metamorphosed as a cicada
to scratch my way to the surface,
      crawling above ground
            to birth such sound
and to shed such skin and skeleton
     like the selfless king
               abandons his crown!
while in samsara’s sea they drown
                                          no more

I must wake up!

In the dream world
     imagination is the creator
of all sights and sounds
   and smells and feels and fears
      and tastes and don’t forget
         the touches you don’t get
      — your mind creates those too
in the dream world
     the artist thrives or dies
depending on will and disposition
          — or is it now our despotism?
for it is time I must remind        
                                                   (who?)
      it’s  pure       imagination
         —    creepy factories aside    —

I have entered the dream world
     and so I say goodbye
to the ordinary people I once knew
   to the human race in which I grew
      to the good friends, in numbers few,
oh how when I write, I will miss you!
      but only a solo journey ensues
(the synonym is madness)
      for it’s certainly not entirely lonely
with all those characters arguing in there

          CAN YOU SHUT THE HELL UP
                   FOR JUST A SECOND
           SO I CAN PRETEND
                   TO BE NORMAL?

  Nope.

         Not fair.

This familiarity is based on
     past impressions
          with no guarantee of
     future impressions
           (& little return on investment)

            you think I’d shift gears

Alas! like so many lifetimes
       before me
                      I write
   I enter the dream state
                      I strive
   I will realize my mind
                      this time,
   with a qualified Spiritual Guide.

Categories
Dreams Poetry

Mere Imputation

The space in here
       it is not clear
though she says
       it’s clarity

My mind is fog
       for this is wrong
though she says
       it’s sanity

I hear a siren’s call
       – or a fire alarm?
as she sings
       it’s raining men

If she’s a storm
       I wish to be her wind
though she says
       such wish is sin

If I fall in
       I know I’m fucked
though she jokes
       you’re just a crook

It’s just a test
       as she laughs at me
now she says
       suffering need not be

If happiness is mind
       I generate it from within
now she sings
       the world is yours to win

Oh! Elusive happy mind!
       on what do you depend?
now she jokes
       it’s in your head!

The space in here
       it is not clear
though she says
       it’s clarity

My mind is fog
       for this is wrong
now she begs
       oh just kiss me!

Categories
Dreams Poetry

Giving Thanks to a Past-life Brother

Am I a menace?
A mara? A demon?
Will no one tell me?
Will they simply write a book about me
                 after I die?
Or will I be blasted into forgetful oblivion, purposefully?
What delight did I lack, will I lack,
                 force others to abandon
with my mara-induced delusions?
                  (autism, they call it now)
refusing responsibility – still!
     a demon to this day
     poor quality on display
Brother Fabjan, rescue me 🙏
please don’t make a mockery
     of my life’s work, of my plays
     of my dreadful mimicry,
the plagiarism of youth
in poor taste – ah! I know!
But despondency after death
     is a hell realm, and – alas! –
I was merely reborn human
again – ah! But not to torment you
still! A demon you say!
                  Oh brother Peter Fabjan!
                  You could not rescue me!
So this lifetime, I turn instead
to a Spiritual Guide,
Buddha Shakyamuni’s continuum,
and, in constant manifestation,
                  his teachers!
I am grateful, finally,
to shed this shadow of karma
which reeks of dreadful delusion,
     this familial mockery, betrayal
      – no doubt I returned or would return in kind –
finally, I get to cleanse such evil minds!
Alas! I am grateful!
Thank you, my brother

Categories
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

Categories
Poetry

a part

I am not apart from my faith
but I am apart from people
       from my mountain cave
I compose poems and songs
       I meditate and I realize emptiness
and still the people come in throngs
       to accuse me of such silliness
feelings that have long since
                                    come and gone

for aeons, our own harm befalls us
but still we blame,
       in mistaken consciousness
still the same
       in all our actions ignorant
I am not apart from my faith
but I am apart from others
       in their silence and their pain
I am apart from you
       and here I fear I will remain  

Categories
Good Fortune Poetry

Ordinary Existence

I hate this lifetime
                 she says

With all the instructions
         and all the conditions?
Why?
        How could you hate such fortune?

Because all the people
            I have ever known,
                            ever loved
                in all my lives
           have forgotten me

Not only
          do they not remember
our love, shared,     our words
                        our bonds …
they are all sick, wounded, dying
this vision becomes a nightmare
   threatens lives I care about
      makes me hate my own
and then I see
        I am the maker and destroyer
but never more a life-enjoyer
       — at least not this life anyway
this one with pain that’s here to stay
   because that is samsara’s way
      first it gives and then it takes
breath, floods, fires, earthquakes,
      fortune, time, fame, mistakes, and
breath

It all comes rushing in and then
                                    it goes

Absent is the gentle flow,
                        of another life
                  one in which I failed
          one where I succumbed to strife
          for otherwise this appearance
                        wouldn’t be
                             (couldn’t be)

So which delusion can I blame
   for producing this life, this name
I happily give up for happiness
   a wisdom realizing emptiness
                  I’m tired of grief’s game
        set me free!

While with wisdom, I reflect,
   I find… I hate this lifetime
                                all the same
           but despite its constant pain
             not a moment spent in vain

I will escape

Categories
Buddhism Good Fortune Poetry

An Offering

In the New Kadampa Tradition, we perform a practice called Offering to the Spiritual Guide on the 10th and 25th day of each month. Typically practitioners meet to recite chanted prayers and bring food and flower offerings to our Spiritual Guide. This verse is my offering.

~~~

Sometimes I feel
          I was built to handle anything
                          limitless potential
                                   powerful, strong

Other times, too sensitive
          to get along
                          difficult to get by
                          or even make do
          I don’t want for much
                    and yet there’s never enough
          and the disappointment’s strong

Am I made up of feeling,
                                     mistaken discrimination?

Why can I never make contact
                   when I try & touch
                              another,     soft   skin
                                                   — lost
                     gone          by the time I’m there

                                 it’s only    air

                    and though it’s space I crave,
                                          it’s a high cost

tears, sorrow
                         yet goodbye to rage
             I’ve freed myself from anger’s cage
                         yet sadness remains here
                                          all the same
                         delusions wrong,
                                                  familiar, strong
             I beg them leave
                                please do not stay!

I see a face
             familiar shape,
                     I know that walk
             I’ve seen that gait
                     I recognize that stride
             he takes his time
                     if he has rhythm,
                                  I have his rhyme
             and false reason
                              keeps us apart —
             though why should we meet
             when every greeting
                          ends the same way
             goodbye, depart until
                           some other day

So though I want to beg & cry
      & sit & pretend I don’t know why
             this pain, though here, won’t stay
           it’s mere causes created
                            now ripened seeds
                   appearing here as suffering
          yearning great as I’ve felt before
                    wishing there was something more
                    while this vision reveals all
          it’s just my mind
                         it’s not out there,
                                       though it’s appearing
                                                       everywhere

I can write it down
                     I can share some words
             & still the truth remains unheard
         for causes we don’t create
                   to sit still    ,     think    ,    concentrate
          on something more virtuous than hate
                    why can’t we learn to meditate
                                       on happiness & love?
                     How is that too hard    (as I’ve heard
                                                                 whiners complain)
                                          & my heart breaks

So sensitive, so still
            so patiently I work,     I wait
       as effortful seeds
                     I do create
                        and generously dedicate
                     for others’ joy
                                          & may hearts heal   
                                   anvil  strong
                                               unbreakable & vajra-like
                                                            until
                                                    Enlightenment.

Categories
Buddhism Poetry

Part of it all: III

(continued from)

<3>

I sit apart
    yearning
        misunderstanding
            my separateness
                  does not exist

    and still
          it is effortful
                to fight such suffering
          deceitful maras
    mistaken minds

I am but a drop
          at my heart
                      at the heart of all hearts
          inseparable, pure
    with the Dharma cure

            to be a part of it all
                    happily