Suffering is addictive. 10.17.21
Suffering is addictive. 10.17.21
it’s a beautiful night
I label, I grasp
still, I appreciate
nice temporary conditions
with childlike delight
(especially in winter)
knowing the cause of this peaceful mind
is not this appearance
but an action, long passed
now the effect blooms
in the garden of good conditions
no external wish granted
just joyful disposition
for winter never could bring happiness
what is this effortless arising
so easy, so pure
it’s the mind of renunciation
samsara’s cure
for the only reason I now have delight
is Dharma given kindly
which I recall tonight
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.
Even when conditions are good
they are never good enough
until I realize emptiness directly
I am never satisfied, never giving up
There are no words
for the irrational feelings
of the gross human heart
(gross as in not subtle, nor very subtle,
referring to body, although I didn’t think
I was subtle either)
the body is filled with such putrid substances
36 impure I think
it really doesn’t matter the number
two is too many
and we share ours like it’s love
There are no words
for the irrational feelings
of the gross human heart
so I can make expressive sounds
but they express no sense
(so I’m not going to try)
everything I’ve done so far
now seems so meaningless
if I cannot stop being mean…
for some reason the familiarity
is that of breathing, self-cherishing
it ruins my life continuously
while shamelessly claiming my importance
as number one…
you’d think I’d spot the rub…
But it’s a poisonous devil, desirous
attachment, uncontrolled desire
a hook, a leash, a pleasure garden
growing harvests of pure deceit,
in all my suffering, in all my lives
you’ve hurt and harmed me
and still, I strive
love me, don’t leave me
impossible wishes
a one-way street from,
and a door half-open that
must open or swing shut
Each action, not over, plants its seed
later arising, believed,
this appearance of inherent existence
incorrectly conceived
and permanently perceived
prevents us from achieving
such peaceful states of mind
patient acceptance
compassion, loving kindness
rolling with the punches
flexible with time
healing from hole punches
or cruel one-night hoaxes
so personal at the time
we see ourself as a pinpoint in time!
How utterly boring!
And how painful the suffering!
find a right and find a wrong
do more of one and less of the other
and that’s a great start
because at the end, at death
we get an answer,
for which we may work our whole life
to make it a happy one
free from the most evil joke
of our unforgetting world
we never forget our pleasures
but we’re ever forgetting they’re turning to pain
even when the anguish hits immediately:
A REFILL PLEASE!
So I wish to volunteer so courageously!
may all negativity ripen upon me
and how about instead, spontaneously
all my cause for happiness and love
upon those
countless migrators absent freedom
let’s live free from uncontrolled agony
cleverly disguised as ecstacy
a snake in the garden that slurs
Eat of this tree
it’s why we see things mistakenly
it’s why they tasted the earth, curiously
and – subtle though it was –
the taste appeared so sweet!
how easy now to crave strange meat
our flesh is not enough for long,
so be prepared to watch the cumming
turn to going – if you do wish to cum that badly …
36 disgusting substances or more!
take it from me,
the subtle is less messy and less troublesome
if you’re the type that prefers childish fun
I highly recommend a different plane
it’s all mistaken anyway…
focus on good causes, attainments
My grandpa would say,
just try your best
My first attempt at producing a sestina.
My normal methodology for creation is spontaneous overflow of emotion (the excess is disgusting) or free verse, which feels channeled from other sources: spontaneously remembered, rendered incorrectly, perverted, and copied from other great artists, no doubt.
It also seemed more appropriate to select an engaging and more intentional subject matter since the poem is so contrived (in this case); I do not usually set out to write a poem. A poem will find me when it wants writing. However, I do enjoy the dance-like and musical qualities of rhythm & repetition. How many of Buddha’s 84,000 teachings did I manage to include here in this silly display of some of the stages of the path?
Enjoy!
Renunciation, a sestina
I have carefully taken out each hook
and the wounds bled for many a long day
and my clothes remained obviously stained
an unpleasurable display, gifts of samsara
and what should bloom in place of pain?
But another chain! We have no freedom!
Ah! But one must define this freedom
or how will we recognize release from the hook?
Do we know what it’s like to not feel pain?
How should we strive to create a happier day?
How miserable the mind that produces samsara!
addicted to deceptive conceptions, stained
With contaminated eyes, our vision stained
creates evil hallucinations, no freedom
and so we find it hard to escape samsara
our familiarity keeps us bound, as a hook
forcing our steady practice day after day
we should understand this to escape this pain
How difficult to bear witness to all beings’ pain
and accept responsibility for this mind that’s stained
How can I stand to fight me even one more day?
How can I believe the existence of joyful freedom?
How can I have the strength to tear out this hook?
Perhaps a bit longer, I will bear the agony of samsara…
This is addictive quality of samsara
hellish to hold us addicts of our pain
a snare that strangles, we must un-hook
what virtue could purify these conceptions stained?
we need a vast collection of merit for freedom
and increased faith in our spiritual guide day after day
Only he guides us out, faithful step, day-by-day
we must grasp this rare chance to leave the prison of samsara
we are now protected on our journey to freedom
he has shown us how to transform our pain
into pure motivation for ordinary beings, equally stained
cherishing others, I continue to remove each hook
With pure effort each day, we’ll completely purify our pain
detroying samsara and our conceptions, stained
attaining freedom forever from attachment’s unbearable hook
you see me as a girl when
I have been your mother
you see me mother, after
I have been your child
you see me enemy after
I have been your friend
you see me a beginning after
I’ve been each and every end
only you don’t see the continuum
you don’t see what it’s for
you don’t see the “big picture”
you beg for common sense once more
you see me as a girl
you take me as a lover
you feel each pleasure new
and each pain rediscover
next you’ll meet me as your foe
and know my torture’s art
you’ll beg to be without me
while wishes ripen to never part
the cruelest joke of samsara
the wish-granter, genie, jewel
all worldly prayers do cometh true
with just timing making us the fool
you see me as a girl
radiant, free, and open
and you, overcome with envy,
how you wish to see me broken
by running toward temptation,
grasping at the self, and craving
we lose the possibility of salvation
with such constant misbehaving
how can we overcome our loathing
and refrain from touching skin?
for in heated hate-filled love embrace
I’ll remember you were once my twin
you see me as a girl
when I have been your mother
I have been your sister, father, uncle
yes, I have been your brother
I have been a loyal lab
and I a miser, cheat, and thief
I’ve rested in eternal peace
only to wake with new belief
seeing inner demons, outer
giving unending evil toments
with such cyclic suffering for all,
how can bodhichitta remain dormant?
you see me as a girl
you take me as a lover
you feel each raw sensation new
and rare laughter rediscover
how ’bout we call it quits
and cease identifying this mind
’cause ordinary doesn’t cut it
when extraordinary’s been defined
I don’t know about your view, but
mine says this pleasure garden’s rotting
my time here is running out
and my tell-tale heart is clotting
so don’t see me as a girl
goddamn it! – don’t take me as a lover
because incest is against the law
and I have been your mother
just as sure, you have been mine
some aeons or some years ago
for we’ve done all there is to do
in all the worlds there are to know
so let’s grow bored and say no more
and escape with little wits we’ve left
we’ve done it all … oh countless times before!
now let us create cause for happiness!
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
I am only a witness,
transparent eye
a non judgemental mirror —
or at least a mirror who keeps
her judgments to herself
I am the nursery rhyme before it’s written,
the angel before the fall
the dream before the nightmare
the ring before the call
I hear the future coming,
still feel the distant past,
see outcomes from our actions
that for years & years will last
I weep for sad beginnings
I laugh at mad hellos
see insanity all around us
and suffering only grow
I am ready to escape this
ready to depart
ejecting all attachment
burning all my art
I have not one creation
of which I am proud
except those that come from virtue,
those soundless,
those I’ve vowed
I sow these seeds in silence
for my words have caused much pain
all contaminated actions
seemingly in vain
(* focus on intention *)
I hear the whistle blow,
a hundred miles from home
smell the fields of mountain thyme
growing round the purple heather
and still cannot decide
if to stay or go
until I walk the streets
see the suffering
hear the cries
smell the stink
feel the terror
taste the drink
then it all comes rushing back,
each and every pleasure,
that I’ve had it all before
— it’s time to think!
I cannot do this anymore!
I won’t!
So with reliance, offering, requesting,
my life I do lay down
only for something better
more meaningful, profound
with diligent, stable practice
(which, finally, I’ve found)
and compassionate, loving heart
I fall upon the Bodhisattva’s ground
I bow before the new moon,
and rising with the sun
try to take things lightly,
because all is mind and none is one
there is a portal
escape route out
no need to scream
no need to shout
is it above us?
or is it below?
it cannot be without
it is within we go
and when we discover
the truth that lies therein
that all is mind, is empty
pure and free of sin
only happiness resides
in our pure, loving core
only a kind, peaceful
consciousness, forevermore
(the question is,
do you want it?)