Poem: How do you stay so still?

How we all try and understand you,

The greatest of minds man has to offer, are

At your feet,

How does your ego not inflate?

How have you stayed the same all these years?

The wisdom of philosophers,

Digging deep in you, trying

To see what you are,

The tools of the scientists,

Prodding, measuring, stealing bits

And pieces of you,

Trying to see what you’re made of,

The religious folk claim you,

Pray to you, want from you, take from you,

Yet you stay still?

Is that what Buddha understood?

How is it that all these wise men and women are deaf and blind?

Before we shackle the children,

They know and understand you,

Even in chains, your

Teachings slip through their laughter and wonderment,

Sweet life,

Sweet nature,

Sweet Gaia,

How do you stay so still when all over your robbed of your innocence?

Poem: Only you & you

That which you see in the mirror is all you have,

It’ll make you or break you,

Not them but that reflection,

What you desire, it

Can provide,

Your failures, it

Can cause,

It can give rise to your delusions, but

Also fans the fire within you,

It knows you better than any one ever will,

The smallest of insecurities,

Largest of hopes,

All within that mirror,

But until the crack are mended,

The distorted figure takes you down a distorted path,

To fix it,

Fix yourself,

To fix yourself,

You must see yourself for what you are,

To see that,

You must see it,

Staring at you,

The same eyes,

Looking into your soul,

That which needs fixing,

It can help you,

As you help it,

Only you can fix you,

As you fix it,

Only you and you.

Poem: Father

I walk upon the desolation road,

The only road that was left for me,

I didn’t get to choose,

A choiceless existence for choices are made for me,

Each choice made narrows the roads,

Each choice lessens the possibilities,

Choices of my father,

Choices of my ma,

Choices of my wife,

And the choice to have my children choose,

All leave me with the desolation road,

I walk upon it in silence, in chains,

I walk upon it with heavy steps, pained feet,

But as long as they,

My love

My heart

My soul

Can choose to their hearts content,

Then,

I walk upon desolation road, smiling.

Poem: “Is there an exact moment you can recall?”

“Is there an exact moment you can recall?”

That one encounter,

That one book,

That one thought,

“Which one shifted your mind?”

That one touch,

That one feeling,

That one question,

“Which made you doubt all that you know?”

That one hope,

That one desire,

That one dream

“For which you’d give up all other ones?”

“This one is full of struggle”

“This one is full of obstacles”

“This one is full of hardships”

Said in hushed whispers.

“I know”

Said with acknowledgement

“I know”

Said with acceptance

“I know”

Said with pride

“When did it all change?”

Anima asked.

“When I saw death”

He replied.

Poem: What are you thinking about?

Animal superior to man,

It lives, breathes, exists in the present,

Its gift: the lack of thought,

Mans curse: the abundance of it,

Amplifying the sensations of life,

Casting doubt about the future,

Lingering on the unsaid words,

Fearing the next second,

The present trickles away like sand in an hourglass,

Anticipating the next grain,

The next trouble, the next pain.

Basic, the needs are,

Basically fulfilled,

Basic pleasure can be,

But we basically only care about the suffering.

Suffering is illuminating,

The pain demands are attention,

Without it, we float down stream,

Bathing in pleasure,

Unaware.

“Everything good?”

“Yes”

(Except for the pain in the back)

The pain that draws our thoughts,

Everywhere is laughter,

Except in our mind.

(Thoughts only for the pain)

For only that keeps us alive.

Thinking of what you want,

What you desire, thinking

Up all the obstacles, all

That’ll cast misery upon you,

Thinking, thinking, thinking,

As the lion rests,

Thinking, thinking, thinking,

As time winds down,

Thinking of death,

As the lion eats,

Thinking, thinking, thinking,

As life ends.

From nothing rises the world, created by thoughts

From nothing rises the troubles, created by thoughts

From nothing rises the struggle, created by thoughts.

“What Are you thinking about?”

Our love

(I thought).

Poem: Trying To Find That Me

There are three of me,

one is who I am,

the other is who I want to be,

and the third is what you think I am,

all three never aligned.

 

One of me is chained to the past,

constantly trying to break free,

the shadow is heavy,

unrelenting,

always following, always reminding, always showing,

what I’m trying to overcome.

 

The other me is strapped to a conveyor belt,

shaped and molded by foreign hands,

but it’s the loving touch that hurts the most,

that conforms the most,

for to disappoint love is hellish,

rather disappoint the other me.

 

That me who is free,

who wanders through the dimly lit path,

traversing the unkept road,

content,

self-content,

(om)

broken chains, disfigured parts,

(om)

peace at heart, peace with love,

(om).

 

Who I am

wanders around

trying to find

that

me.

Poem: Finding Eden

Do you ever think of the past?

on the land you stand, once

covered in blood, curiosity

of man gave birth to pride, thus

wicked is revenge, turning

fathers against sons,

wives against husbands,

brothers against brothers,

the blind prophet sees,

the jester cackles the truth,

the beggar is all-knowing,

how do I get back to Eden when everywhere man craves for more possessions,

eating, eating, eating,

his insides away,

do you ever think of the past?

 

“You say something?” She asked.

“Nada.”

 

The lust for power, the lust for control,

etches itself through history,

river of the raging angel,

heavy is the blood that flows,

visit it and see how the Greats sit side by side

blood-soaked soles,

can never sit up straight, for

their shadow still burdens them,

without flesh, just bones for what else goes with you?

they never found the road home,

neither can I,

but I think of the past,

searching, searching, searching,

my hunger grows.

 

“What are you saying?” She asked.

“Nothing.”

 

The juices from the fruit trickle down from the corner of his mouth,

the temptest wipes it away,

where did the snake bite you? she asks,

he swallowed the fruit and showed her his ribs,

she goes to feel it but he recoils from her hardened touch.

 

A rat crawls on the floor,

its belly dragging,

she screams saying have you ever seen something that wicked?

In paradise, he says

in Rome,

in Constantinople,

in Jerusalem,

in Marne,

in Leningrad,

in Nanjing,

in Mylai,

in the street outside,

where I saw you waiting.

 

A call comes for her,

someone else comes for her,

she comes for him,

and he comes home.

 

Home is where the blood is,

blood is in the cracks,

where’s the rat?

oh, where the mirror is,

where’s Eden? he asks his rodere reflection,

it is where you left it,

when you caved in to your hunger,

when your curiosity freed us,

when you took on the burden of living.