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 Meditation Poetry

cramped in the tub

I am in the tub

I am dissatisfied
this tub has taken me nowhere
I’ve been round this way before

it ended with suffering

slit wrists in the clawfoot
or just the bath water ran cold

It ended with suffering
and I wanted escape

from the tub

*

I can’t out-damn-spot my misery

I can’t wash away the pain

purification doesn’t exactly work that way —
unless we carefully imagine it does (in four steps)

but who has the mindfulness for that?

not I, as I search for meaning in this worthless pleasure

careful not to throw out the baby with the bath water

I transform this all-too-addictive
suffering through wisdom, and will
tuck this teaching

into the continuum as I tuck myself
into bed

careful not to slip as I stand and step

out of the tub

Categories
Poetry

Misplaced Grief

I thought my pain was due to his absence
yet the delusions arose in his presence

my uncontrolled desirous attachment
formed unfulfilled relationship wishes

I no longer sensed the man behind the mask
begging for a freedom he refused to imagine

loathe to face the grim consequences
of his actions, or their lack