Sunday, December 17, 2017
It occurs to me; what sees?
Not who, not my me,
But the what sunk below
The what that watches
As thoughts drift by (not thoughts)
The one that can see (not sight)
What I feel and touch (not sensation)
And smell (not smell) -- what perceives?
Then I realize that the question
When I see the holiness in things
Is not who or what perceives these
But how? How is the knowing of
The sacred? How do I (what is I?)
Recognize -- wait -- not perceive but
Recognize -- wait -- all is holy and
I, my what, my being then is holy
And now it feels closer
I'm catching the smell
I perceive through my holiness?
My holiness merges with its holiness?
We merge? Holiness to Holiness?
Realize we are not separate.
Not realize -- are, just are.
Friday, December 1, 2017
Saturday, September 30, 2017
Poetry gets lost
Between the madness and
My life struggling to do
Vicious fear clawing into
My gut squeezes it out
Of me, the impulse to poet
there, out of reach to
I'm lost to myself no
Expression, no feel, no
Way to find my self, no
Way to heal or be
Help me I am lost.
Finding my languaging
Is the only way that
I can be safely alive
Thursday, September 21, 2017
I loved a girl and she loved a girl and she broke up all of my heart
And I've got to say can't somebody, can't somebody, can't somebody
Find me someone to love?
Anyway -- As you wish, I love you still
I still love my baby mama, she threw me over forty years ago
She wanted a party life and fast women and I was slow
And she had to find what could make a life so fine
And I was just an obstacle on her way to climb to a
Better life without me and still after all of these years
I want to know,
Can't somebody, can't somebody, can't somebody
Find me someone to love?
Monday, August 28, 2017
Friday, August 25, 2017
Course this Summer
Supposed to do a character short
And I made up a sort of me
A truthful me
A me who wanted to skateboard
From age thirteen to sixty-two
A me who wants to do YouTube
Videos for the love and adoration
Of ALL -- Skateboarding videos
A fictional me that thought he could
Get wealthy and famous and buy
But he couldn't skate
It was my excuse -- finally to
Buy a skateboard and under the
Gaze of the lens unbox and start
The class is weeks gone and still
I get X-Rays
Friday, August 18, 2017
I do tiny scared freaked out and do anyway
I do Buddhism and other delights
I do creativity with
Words -- so many words
Words of poetry
Words of story
Words of explain
In this room I do yoga
In this room I read
I do juggling
I do integrity so I must say
I do self harm but
I do a lot of self love
I do medication for mental illness
I do tears
I do rioteous laughter (yes alone)
I do alone
Monday, July 17, 2017
They're part of who you are
Your scars are beautiful
They go with you so far
They keep you centered and
They keep you in the now
They chill the pain and they
Make you see just how
You are here right now you
Suffer but you know
That you still've got a chance
To make it even though
Your heart is full of pain and
You don't know if you'll make it through the day
You suffer every day
But every day there's a ray
Of hope and beauty shining
Through your life and
I support you when the best you can
Do is cut to live to make your stand
I support you.
(This poem, while heartfelt, is pretty horrible. Don't judge. I know.)
Sunday, July 2, 2017
Walking on a semi-dark street and
Out I come fresh from my sangha
Happy that everything is put away and
I'm free to go and I see you flinch
Young. Woman. Alone. And. Here
Pops out a big man (sounds nicer than fat)
And I see you flinch and hesitate and my
Heart breaks for you. I wish you could feel safe.
I know you are right. That's survival instinct.
The neighborhood is not that nice even
Though I just came out of a First Unitarian
Universalist Church building. Nineteenth
Century Historic Landmark but
You don't know that. Go with love.
Tuesday, June 6, 2017
She takes care of everyone
She holds and cherishes
And buys the shot and
She just wants
She can't take care of everyone and
That is a bullet through her heart
A compass rose leading to redemption
She redeems our souls.
She redeems our souls.
She is a goddess
A goddess on
A goddess on Earth
We all worship her.
Some, to me, make words
Insipid -- Uninteresting --
Amateurist??? (My word)
That sounds bold and
Mean. Doesn't it? But wait!
I don't mean it. I know
That when I judge a poem the
Harshest -- the universe will
Always flock and shower praise
On it -- soaking it's roots, helping me
To see that it is only me. I do not have
Clear vision. If you can love a poem, I
Need to learn, (I NEED IT)
How to stand where
You stand and learn to look at it again and
Find a love of more words
I want to be humble
What a crazy great name for a
Tightrope walker. When I sit and
I don't think and
I aware at my -- I don't know
My -- could it be my aware?
Can I aware at my aware?
That's exactly when I
Feel like I'm walking on
Full of awareness
Only a misstep from
Avoiding waking up.
Such a marvel
Finding the way
Step by step
It is yours and mine and
The worlds. I
Didn't write it I
There it was
Waiting, poor baby
I pick it up and cuddle and
Stroke and love it and
I never want it to be alone
Oh -- it's purring!
Will you care for it?
You can take it, even
Say it is yours
I can find a multitude more
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
And Oh, my heart leaps, it's so exciting
She used enjambment and slant rhyme to get
A perfect poem, a passionate poem, a read
Of spell and stillness and ravished spirit
A conceit, spellbound as sudden passion
Images of scent and sight and sound get
Almost too powerful - such sensation stuns
Me, agonizing alliteration
Like all device brings me to sudden tears
Such joy fills my heart I barely think when
I read, reread, ponder, and drink my beer
And sigh, undone, I'm slain by her power
I sip the poem and then my beer and purr
Monday, May 1, 2017
Wanted to support me with backpacks
That represented folks like me who died
Because I don't know. Who knows?
They killed themselves exactly as
I sometimes want to and that was HARD
but there were also people who much
To my amazement did not want to guilt me
Because I am who I am. Maybe you should
Know that guilting someone who is at risk for
Suicide is not helping at all -- it is hurting and
Risking and -- killing and
If someone is suicidal, how could you think that
Telling them about how they would hurt those that
Are left behind would -- what make things better?
You judge and hurt and make things worse. Are you
Trying to help? That is the opposite of skillful. You
Are judging and harming and shaming someone who
Is already suffering and is thinking that, it would be
Compassionate to lay the burden down and to pass away.
But these people really help. They
See me. They accept me. They know that I might die
But it is not because I am in some way wanting to
Harm others -- It is because am mentally ill. I suffer.
They see me. They see me.
If I die still -- thank you.
Why would you make it about you -- about
How my suicide would affect you -- how
My sifting down to death would somehow be
Something about you. -- Something about you.
Let it go. It doesn't concern you. If you
Can't help then, PLEASE don't make things so much worse
Please don't hurt me -- it doesn't have anything to do with you
At all. I am mentally ill. I am mentally ill.
Let it go.
Sunday, April 16, 2017
I smile at all I meet
Saying Hi! How you Doin'?
Like them shoes!
People's faces light up
Happy to be seen. To be
Recognized. To be
Admired. Oh how happy.
Inside I nearly die. I'm
Struggling on. And I'm
Hoping to get home before I
Start to cry, and I
See their faces, their
Happy faces and I
Wonder how many want to
Cry like me
Saturday, April 15, 2017
And you are trying to smoothly
Remove your jeans
Quickly sliding off one leg
And then another
And sometimes you have
To quickly put one or the other
Or both legs quickly down?
And you are trying to make a
Good impression even if you
Are the only person in the room?
Wednesday, April 5, 2017
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Martin Luthor King was killed on April 4, 1968. Now 49 years later I think of him and how he changed and how he didn't change things.
Martin decided to be the change that he wanted to see in the world, like Ghandi. He believed that hatred does not defeat hatred, that violence does not bring peace. Along the way he met the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hahn, just two times, but between them they shared a sense of each other's holiness and a shared vision. The year after Martin received the Nobel Peace prize, he nominated Thich Nhat Hanh for the prize. In Vietnam, Martin is considered a bodhisattva, a Buddhist term for someone who has woken up, who has achieved enlightenment, and chooses to devote their life to helping all other beings awaken.
|Martin Luther King and Thich Nhat Hanh|
The work isn't done. There is still hatred and division and judgment, but there are also people inspired by MLK to continue to work for peace.
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Monday, January 16, 2017
Gloss, freedom, marriage, daemonhood is
More than the touch of today -- now -- is.
I am torn between delight in the power of myth
Of love, of heritage, of the power of mage
Mythology, irish, scottish, welsh, truth at large
And is, now, no story, being without delusion
Without story, true to now, without extra
Descriptions of something that doesn't exist
Do I reject the loss of mystery and mythos
Or reject the delusion of nothingness and story
Or can I join them into love and magic and truth
I don't know
I can't choose
Love and myth and delusion
Sunday, January 1, 2017
I see that you like him
But for him it is more.
You want to be what he
Needs or wants or –
I don't know ...
I really don't know, but he
Isn't the thing that you need
And you like him and
You wish that you
Were everything he thinks he sees but
Even if you
Want to be what he wants
Sorry. So sorry.
Wish you could
What he wants.
But that wouldn't be you.
So many folk in a bar
All with their particular motive
But all the same.
See me. Know me. Love me.
I am the same.
I want to be seen.
I want to be admired.
I want to love, to be loved.
Beautiful lesbians –
Sports fanatics –
We are all the same.
Lost on our own,