MMA Buddhism vs Magical Truth

Sometimes it seems that the touch of maze
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

Flying

People flying
Out they go
Flying out
Flying out they go

Out they go
We see their
Encountering

Out they go
Out they go
Love. Out they go
Out they go.

So Sorry

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
No!

Even if you
Want to be what he wants
You aren't.
Sorry. So sorry.
So sorry.

Wish you could
Feel
What he wants.
But that wouldn't be you.
Would it?

Heart

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 –
Love me.
Artists –
Love me.
Sports fanatics –
Love me.

We are all the same.
Lost on our own,
Needing reflection.

See me
Admire me
Love me

Now!

Please.

Oh, What a Lucky Man

He had white horses and ladies by the score
All dressed in satin and waiting by the door

Ooh, what a lucky man he was
Ooh, what a lucky man he was

He said money and success weren't
The measure of a life but that if he touched
One person's heart he was satisfied

So Emerson he went and cancer gripped Lake
He struggled for nine months and birthed death

So here we are
Lost in fear life death life death
A sick perverse man for president

Despair so easy, oh, so easy but
The truth is that we have now, today
Have I touched someone now in any way

I don't want to get to my end, or
The end of the Trump's term and
Realize I didn't live, I waited, I dreamed

Lost in the past and the future and
The only place I could live could act --
The now, was abandoned by me.

You see Greg Lake acted, and created
And cared and worked for others and
Oh, what a lucky man he was

Oh what a lucky man you are
Oh what lucky men we are
Ooh, what a lucky man he was

#therevolutioncontinues

Woke up yesterday and for realz
Mentally ill here
I thought to kill myself

But sometimes so much despair out there
Means we've got to pull it together in here
So I started to rally. Fuck that shit.
They're not worth my down.

Then today high school kids cut school
No KKK No Hate In The USA No Trump
No KKK No Hate In The USA No Trump

They made me so happy I cried
I mean gasping couldn't catch my breath
Turned red and sobbed on the street cried

It's going to be alright, y'all
We've got this.
I've got you.
You've got me.
We've got them.

The revolution continues.
¡Viva la revolucion!
¡Viva la revolucion!
¡Viva la revolucion!

Some of us -- Invisible

Some of us were always invisible
Some of us made no impression
Teachers just ignored us
We were doing pretty well and

If something seemed a bit off --
Well it was easier to just ignore it
Wasn't it
No problem there.

Not one teacher ever reached out to me
Not one teacher ever tried to solve me
Not one teacher ever saw my pain
Or if they did it was just easier to
Turn just part away.

I suffered. Abused. Horrific. Marks.
No one asked. No one talked to me.
If they had I would have burst in tears
If they had I might have started redemption
If they had I might not be suicidal at sixty one

Some of us were always invisible
Some of us made no impression
Some of us were just ignored
We seemed to be doing pretty well

Some of us weren't

Angels on the Sidewalks

Blessed are the poor — the angels among us.
Blessed they sleep on  cardboard
Blessed is the smell of their urine
They have no place to go

Blessed are the children

Raised among poverty
Homelessness
Drug addiction
Alcoholism.

Blessed are the passed out
With syringe in arm or fallen bottle beside
They flee the pain for all of us
Soaking up our pain
And numbing it

Blessed are my sisters
Blessed are my brothers
Blessed are they when the cops roust them
Moving them along so the better off don't see.
Blest are they.

Blessed is the community
The watching out for one another
Blessed is the shamed theft of another
Victim's scanty wealth
Blessed are they both

You are walking by them
You are walking by them

You are walking by them

And they are angels on the sidewalk

Sacrifices to the rush to wealth.

They are your brothers

They are your sisters

They are your cousins and aunts and uncles

They are your family

They are angels among us

Blessed be.

Blessed be.

Blessed be.

Blessed be.

Mindful

Angry
You
Ahhhhh
I
Breathe

Prince

A musician God
Supported always women
A hole in our lives.

Walk Right By

You always see them –
Walk right by the line
Startled by
The locked door
Thought only they
Were waiting for
The bathroom.

Baby in Stroller

Kicking legs awave
A baby is filled with glee
The world going by

Undercover

Two undercover cops
Handcuff two guys
Across from Philz

Oh such excitement
The coffee shop buzzes
People peer through the glass

Exotic aquarium

Gold iPhone

She sits
Drinking coffee
Like everyone else
Touching her phone
But she has the
Gold iPhone case.
Miss fabulous.

Karen

She writes to the pulse
To the beat with the
Words coming naturally.
Muse speaking freely
In beautiful verse.

I love
To think
About the
Lengths of
The lines and
The shapes
That they
Make -- Poetry

NaPoWriMo

Today's the day
Not April Fools
A different day --
Of Fools
Driven mad by the goddess
And striving just to get the
Poetry spewed -- enscribed
Before it slipperies back into the
Stream
And a different fool
Gets to
Dive for it.

Too Afraid

I saw a young girl, seventeen or eighteen
So so high, stumbling, with a guy that
She orbited about, older, not wasted
In a horrible part of town.

He had taken over her life.
I imagined prostitution and
Heroin and OH SUCH TRAGEDY
But I made a terrible mistake

I didn't intervene
I did not intervene.
I was too afraid.

Someone Tonight

Someone tonight told me
That they would drop by and
Spend some time with me.
They seemed to be saying

That they thought I was interesting.
But that wasn't true. They
Didn't show up they
Left me high and dry.

I don't quite get it. I'm
Pretty straightforward, I
Tell people what I mean and
Am lost when they deceive.

Why would they say that they
Want to be with me when,
It turns out that they choose to
Drop me to the side.

A Strange Change Day

I told my therapist that
I cut last night and
Then I cut again and
I didn't know why.

All the last month things were bad.
I hurt. I triggered. I depressed darkly,
And all that time I wondered
Why I didn't cut.

That's what I do when things are hard.
I cut cut cut and it helps me.
But when it was bad all last month, no.
And now things are better and cut cut cut.

So. Walking home from the therapist
I eat and get a beer or two and
Walking home I keep seeing great
Attractive women and thinking

I should get a girlfriend.
I should get a girlfriend.
This is such a shift. I never believe
In the possibility of that.

I think that they won't want me
If they knew who I was they would
Be horrified. That they couldn't
Ever ever ever want me.

Now all of a sudden I think that
I should get a girlfriend?
Just like that?
That is so confusing.

Who am I?
Es tan extraño.
No puedo comprender.
Claro, que barbaro.

The last three lines in Spanish mean that It is so strange -- I can't understand -- Clearly, how barbaric, with the last having the sense that it is outside the normal realm of understanding.

She Loves She

 

Now sad the other way
She, enamoured,
Stars in her eyes.

The other unaware
Shares pics of cute guys
Never seeing the pain.

The Victim

So sure you're the victim
You push and push
Obnoxious
Cruel
Telling everyone that
They are victimizing you.

They leave angered
They leave in disdain

You are sure that proves -- something

The FBI comes and you defend yourself.

Now you are dead.

Buddha Wants Us

The Buddha wants us to
The Buddha wants us to
See the people
See them
In the tenderloin
And let go of our stories

Now.
See them.
Homeless or
Drug addicted or
Drunk drunk drunk and

They are our sisters
They are our brothers
They are in such pain how
Can we pass them and
Not see.
Not see.

The Buddha wants us to
Let go -------- of delusion
They are not different
They are like us
Can you hope looking at them?
Neither -- can they.

Find it.
Find it for them.
See them
Exactly as
They are
There is hope -- hope

Corn Dog Days

 

Back to my childlike
Simple days.
No worries just eat
Oh! Such a gift
A dog and
Corn! bread and
Stick-like love.
It's back to my childlike
Simple days
Simple love
Missing you
Corn dog
Missing you
And you

A Poem For Drinkers

Sometimes when drinking it goes awry
And you can just see that there is not a point,
That if you keep drinking it will acrid and
Weird sober and maybe hangoverish while still drinking.

Other times it is cool -- drink for drink
Take me to soft cushy happy drunk
And I like it, it is why I have been drinking
And I will have no complaint.

But -- nicely, and occasionally (but) rarely
There are times that start out to be the first
And quite to my (your) (our) surprise
Sneak over to it is ok after all.

I like that.
It is out of focus
The pain is muted
And I can not complain

¡Que barbaro!

After the open mike
Last month I saw a man,
Pienso que de Mexico,
Pero no se.
Pues claro que si,
El tiene hambre.
Diga a el que fue
Pan dulce en Alley Cat
Pero el hesitated.
Digo que lo fue
En la basura si
No lo come.
¡Que barbaro!
But he could not bring
Himself to enter into a bookstore.
My heart broke.

Oh it hurts so

When people I care for yo
Show up at my bar though
I do not expect them
And they tell me how much they love
Seeing myself though
And then when they go to
The next bar and
They do not ask me to go
And -- I feel like nothing yo.
I feel like nothing yo.
I am nothing.
I am exactly nothing
To them.
I do not matter.
At all.
Truth.
I die.

Crush the Smart Girl

Some times I crush.
Someone is smart
And creative and
Blond and
Nice and
Pretty and
I crush on all of that, but --
I don't expect that --
They will also find that --
I am attractive in
The least.
Lonely is.

Lonely Self

Here's the thing.
When I/you admire someone
It seems like a connection,
But it is not.
It is not.
Liking them is not them liking me
(Or you) and thinking it is
Is what leads us to creepy stalking.
So.
I like her. (Won't name her.)
But. I will not think, (pretty sure not),
That she likes me.
One does not imply the other.
That is sad.
I really like her.
I will just
Lonely be.I will just
Lonely be.

Oh. Such fear

I see that she wants to
Risk and talk to.
I want to too.
But if she doesn't dare
I can not give to her
Her boldness
Her balls
I want to, but
My heart
Is not her heart.
She has to stand up.
If she doesn't will,
Then I will not will
Sorry. She lacks.

Your Annoying Self

Someone told her that
That poem was about her
And push and pull
She sends someone
She wants to see
The poem about her.
No. Ask for yourself
Don't send emissaries.
I don't care enough about
Your annoying self
To gift you poem.

Chinese Girl

Walks with grandpa
He is to her
As she is to him
Family.
And I yearn.

Loud

Loud loud woman in the bar
Woooooohhhttttttt!
Fuckin everything is exciting
Made a shuffle board play.
Saw a scene on TV
Someone walks in the door.
Just
Shut
The
Fuck
Up.
But.
Something in me
Wants
To take her.

Drunk Time

There is a thing, a drinking thing
Where -- as you drink more and feel --
The bliss that grows, it is pretty nice.

I don't mean the other thing where
The more drinking makes more feeling
Sober (though drunk test would bely).

I mean the happy thing. The thing that
Happens sometimes. The thing that makes
Us at such risk for alcoholism, (at such risk).

I guess all of this is to say that I
Like this thing and wish that it were the
Thing that always showed up when I drank.

Out of Place

Much homesickness
Suddenly and unexpectedly
Guts me
Guts me
Missing what?
Scrub?
Brush?
Mexican food?
People who
Share my experience?

That's it.
I think I miss my life
Even though I
Do not want
To leave here.
I want and
Do not want
All now.

There Are Places

There are places
That I show up
Only when drunk.
Like a combination
Taco Bell and KFC.

They do not judge.
They accept me.
They know that I only
Show up when I am drunk
And they welcome me.
They treat me like a human being
And I love them.
I love them.

Sometimes I See

Sometimes my admiration
Of a woman is flavoured by
My realization that, although
They pretend to not know
That I am looking at them,
They know.

I met a guy

He was a worker
Low level
Worked for the building – Logan
Instead of the businesses
In the building
Sweeping the sidewalk
A stand up guy.
A stand up guy.

Sometimes

Sometimes I see people
That are culturally similar
So they imagine that
They should be together
And I hope that
Their worldview
Is broad enough
That they can see that
It is possible too
Serve themselves.

Some Times

Sometimes women let me know
That they think that we should
Hook up.

They see something in me.
They think that we are a fit.

But my belief is,
Built on all of my experience,

Is that when they know me,
They will throw me away.

They will throw me away.

You can imagine that,
Based on that,

I have no willingness to try.
I have no willingness to try.

Risk Is A Struggle

You give to me you curriculum vitae:
You take care of the homeless
You have a good good heart.

But still I struggle
    To chance,
        To risk.

I do not know you,
And a lifetime of all my taken risks
Has taught me that no one really cares
And that everyone lies.

If my struggle to trust and to believe
Is too much for you to bear,
If it is too hard,
I am not surprised.

Go with my blessing.
Go with my blessing.
Bless you.
Good bye.

I don't know how
To be other than I am.

Christmas Cheer

Trying to endure
This bleak bleak day
Nothing to do.
Everything is closed.
Nowhere to go.
My four walls crush me
Barely existing.
Bare -- ly

        I hope I don't cut.

They Do Matter

I just heard someone say
That Black Lives Matter protesters
Were idiots because their protests
Inconvenience people.
They went on to say that the
Protests also sometimes get
Violent.

I felt like I had suffered
Violence just hearing that.

Blacks are really killed
And beat up
And arrested
All unjustly
Not rarely, or
On occasion, or
It has happened, but
All of the time.
All of the time.

For real.
Get your head out.
Growing up black in America
Means that people treat you
How they want and get
Away with it.
If you don't believe that
Then you are blind.
And also an idiot.

And violence at protests?
Yes, some white supremacists
Opened fire on some peaceful
Black Lives Matter protesters
In Minneapolis who had
The temerity to be protesting
The shooting of young
Jamar Clark who police shot
And killed
Some say
While he wore handcuffs.

The white supremacists
Shot the protesters
Next to the police station.
The police responded by macing
Protesters who were giving
First aid to the shooting victims.

So if you are inconvenienced
By the protests
I hope that you will stop
And listen
And wake up
And say no.
Not in my America.
We stand for something
Better than that here.

Oh.

Hurt
Hurt
Hurt
Possible no
Oh, how I wish
Possible
No.

Purity

I worry too much
About the rightness of what I do
And then a woman
Maybe she's crazy

Or

Maybe not and
With her umbrella crosswise out
She goes by and
I have to laugh at myself

She knows appearance is
Naught.
She knows
And my worry sleeps.

Two Women

To see two women

And to see the one –
Larger than life
And to need the other –
Just need her to be mine

And to know the one
Too much for me,
And to know myself
Too little for the other

That is such a lonely thing
A thing of deep felt pain
And still, and still,
How grand to have seen them.

I don't regret.

I Need

To belong in truth
And right.
And to believe that
Peace has a chance
That we can do it.
I need too.
That there is a better
In everyone.
In everyone.
Yes you party girl.
That you are also deep.
That something is more important
Than drunken bar time hookup.
That justice can be had
That people are good.
That we can be inspired.

You're Black

I think you are so attractive.
I want you.
I see that you see yourself as black
And that you see yourself as woman
You couldn't possibly do else
I I celebrate that because it is
The you that is you that I want,
I like you.
But I worry.

I don't see you that way.
You are not a thing.
You are not a category.
You are the you that is you to me, but

Will you be able to see me?
Will you be able to see the like in me?
Will you see the admiration in me?
Or will that be coloured by
Your perception of me as white and you as black?
Me as old, you as young.

Image of me, image of you,
Instead of the you and the me
That is in front of you.

The whole world has conspired to make you feel that way.

I think you are so attractive.
I think you are perceptive and smart
I think that having _you_ see, really _see_ me
Would be something really important to me
But here's my fear -- that your pain at the way
The world has treated you all your life
Will shape the way you see me and see you.

You act like you want me, but
We are not of an age
We're in a bar
I am drunk
And so are you.

I am white, you are black.
It is heady for you that I treat you as
I treat any other human
(Isn't that sad that that would seem strange to you?)

You have a good opinion of me because I'm not a dick.
But thinking about how great you think I am will not
Make make up for not knowing a damn thing about me.

I do not believe.
I can not believe
That if you knew the me that is me,
That you would really care.

I _can not_ believe.
No one has _ever_ tried to _really_
Change  my mind.
So it can not be true.

I don't have any judgement of you
Because you have a judgement of me
And of you, but
I do have trouble seeing how you can know
That you want me.

You do not see me.
You do now know me.
Some day you will know and
If I don't match up to your vision
Then you might throw me away.

It is not that I judge your judgement.
It is of you and thus part of what I admire,
But I just don't believe
That when you finally see me
That I am something you would ever want.
Even though I admire.
Even though I want.

And how could I aspire to mess up
The thing I wish for
And desire.
Just sayin'.

I don't know

I am pushed and torn
And feel the things
And I feel all of the things
And I need to tell you
And I need to tell you
But I don't know
I don't know what
I feel so much
And I must tell it
But. I. Do. Not. Know.

Light

When the sun went below
The horizon it seemed as if
It might never come again
Never come again.

Hearts  darkened and shrank
Spirits quivered.

And in the midst of terror
Came a light
Came a light
And love happened.

Eyes crept open
Spirits crushed unfolded
Hope arose.
Hope arose.

Just right

I hardly know her
Smart girl
Barista
Studying in school,
But my eyes are so
Content to joy her
Across the room
Her solid competence
Her surety
The way she perfects
The simplest of tasks.
All with good personing
Audio girl.

Double Sided Tape

 

I kept being distracted across the room —
Because — her top kept slipping off one shoulder
And when she turned her back
She was low-cut bare to the waist so I knew
That there was no bra and
That she must have the most perfect
Breasts I could ever imagine, and
I know her. She serves me coffee. And
I am feeling really really uncomfortable
Imagining the shapes of her breasts and
I came in here to drink some damn coffee and
Read my book and do some people watching
And now, every time I look up there goes that strap
And nothing sags at all and
Just stop looking! And I look everywhere and
I look anywhere else and
Crap, I can't focus on the damn book any more and
She is just the nicest kid and why?
I don't think I'll ever be able to look her in the face again.

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Good After Another

Reading other's poems
And wondering
Am I a slacker?
They write poems
Good after another

You Out There?

Each of us

                           An island


Of conciousness.

I don't understand

                               How it's possible
           To                                                        communicate

I See Her

I see her on her first date
And I see her decide that she
Will give it a shot and that
She will not react to me.
Will not react to me.
And I honour her and
Take such joy from the fact
That she had to decide that.
She saw something in me
That made her have to choose.

The Open Mike - Voz Sin Tinta

She stood, impassioned
And, (by memory!) seized
Our imaginations and then
Our very souls.

I had to follow that!

So I said, as we do, that
I had mine not by memory
(Though I did have my smart phone).
It is a tradition you see.

Then she, not even knowing
Of my worship,
Said that it was ok because
I have green in my  hair.

Well! I hadn't even started reading
And already I was a hit.

That Look

There's a kind of look –

    a graceful lank.

Somewhere between

    tomboy lesbian

        and — gymnast.

With smart.

    And smirk.

        And sudden pirouette.

Inhabits her voice.

    Knowing yet joyous smile.

I like that look.

Goddess.

Cigrrettes

Here's the thing.
When I quit long ago,
I swore to be supportive,
But when I hear you wheeze,
When you tell me about the polyps,
I am enraged, and even I,
Calm placid Patrick, I
Want to rage,
And rant.

Obsession

Latina girl
Hispanic beauty
Why can't I stop
Thinking about you?

Hurting us.

He kept abusing her
Demeaning, yelling
I asked him not to yell.
It was hurting us.

Friendly Puppy

When I've been drinking I am like a friendly puppy:

Hey! You want to like me?
Hey! You want to like me?
Hey! You want to like me?
Hey! You want to like me?

At least I don't poke my nose anywhere.

Roxanne

You worked me for six dollars
And then you ran off to deal with those
That you care for.

I am not your chump
Do not think that i will be your bank
You burnt that bridge.

It is the end.
The end.

Bye bye.

Diamonds

What does it mean
When I am too drunk to resolve two into one?
Do I see some gem-like deeper truth?
Am I given over to another reality
Because I am loosed?
Is there something more that in our
Quotidian truth we miss?

Drunk

The gem-like glow of drunk
Unable to see one
Shards of reflection
One? Four? More?
Is this more?
Is this precision?
Is this beauty?
I don't know.
I know who I yearn toward
But I do not dare to say.

Red

I see the light cast on her glint red hair
And I shift. Towards her gleam
Toward her glow.
And it is only exactly her glow
That perfects the light.
That perfects the light.
I lean toward.

Desire

What does it mean
When I look at one woman
When I look at another woman
And one seems more desirous
Than another.

I don't know.
I see it. I react to it.
I do not understand it.

There are slender variants
That loom large.
I suspect that my genetics
Have a voice. Truly
A powerful voice.
I want her more than her.
I don't know why.
I don't know why.
I do.

Sacrament

Here is the truth.
The cutting you fear
Is my sacrament
Designed for power
Bringing my sanity
Your standards not mine
Your power not mine.
Cutting mine.
Mine.

My Goddesses

Here it is.
I am supported by others
Who came before. 
Who choose the higher path
Who have suffered
Who have been clearly abused
And who choose love.
Who choose compassion.
OMG I can only hope to be them.

I dedicate this to a hero, +Lindsey Clements 

Not A Genius

As a child,
I secretly secretly
Hoped I was a genius
One Hundred Fifty IQ
1 5 0 baby!
That's what it takes.
When I found out
As a teen,
That mine
Was only 130
I grieved and then --
Each time I was tested
As I went through life
I hoped that all the previous tests
Were mistaken
But no. Each time;
Just 130 IQ
Good enough for MENSA
But that felt
Like the consolation prize
So I never joined.

Glancing

She is over there
On the other side of the bar

Giving glances
Just – just short of desire

And I so happy
Feel the same

Admiring her admiring
Nor seriously, just a game

Like meaning to her,
Like meaning to me

And I dancing
And only you could see

The simple homage.

We bow to each other
Like Renaissance dancers

And I love her
Across the bar

I will never meet her
Still, she's my bright star

And I admire her
From afar.

And I will admire her
From afar.

No Certain

For years now
It has made me no sense
To live my life by plans.
Instead I go by signs
I navigate by portents.

I feel my way.
Less than half
Of this world
And more than half
In the world of the spirit.

To know what to do
I do not consider,
Ponder, think.

I still and wait.
I let the path arise
I'll know when it is right.

Licht Truth

How I yearn for deeper truth,
For salt
And light
And wind that blinds
And floods washing
Dangerously across my spirit.
Who am I?
Where do I come from?
What am I meant to be?
What is my deeper truth?
Why so broken?
Why abandoned?
Where are you?
Find me.
I need you.

I See You

I see you in the bar, so attractive,
And I see you in the sanga, maybe kindred?
And I see you in the world, but still
You are _not_ what I am looking for.

What am I looking for?
What? Am? I? Looking? For?
I don't exactly know.

I know that I will see it.
I know that I will know it.
I know that you will fit my heart.

I look for you. I look to kindred.
I look to joy and belief in the whole..
You think you break the pattern,
But no. The Mother includes you.
You are the patter.
Let me know the patter - the path.

I See You

Short hair sass
Lit up for that guy
Laughing and sweet
I wish it were me.
Beings like you are rare.

Emotional

I know I'm emotional
I'm sensitive and I feel so much
But I don't ever tell you I love you
Because I'm so full of fear

Could a woman like you
Want a man like me?
I know I'm so emotional
It's because I feel so much

Can you believe in me baby
If I could ever tell you of my love
I feel so much for you honey
I'm so so emotional

It Won't Kill Me

Such anger, such judgement.
Do I think you are judging me,
Or do I just know I do not fit –
That you will not accept
People such as me?
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
I am just fine.

Plaisir Dans La Douleur

They won't tell you – the cutters
How much of the thing they enjoy.
No. They give back to you
Your limited expectations.

I am trying to stop.
It is so horrible.
It is so dark
So disturbing.
Sorry sorry sorry.

They see no way toward
Telling you the other.
The joy. The peace.
The relief as they cut.
Why did you think they did it?

Nor will they tell you
About how running their
Hand over the furrowed flesh
Made complex by the
Intricacies of the cuts half healed
Is a deeply, intensely,
Pleasurable thing.
The corrugations of the flesh
Just right under the fingers.

So. I will let you in.
There is a reason we cut.
It makes things
So
Much
Better.

They don't tell you
Because they are sure
That you won't understand.

Reason Overcome

Oh, oh, I see her across the room
And my heart speeds
And there's a tightening in my groin
She's beautiful, with a body
Exactly right,
And I think that she has the
Look of the women in my
Ancestry, and even still

My reason cannot overcome
This primal desire.

I would say she was beautiful
If I did not know that it is only
My genetics finding her a good
Place to be deposited. AND
WORSE! I see that she feels
The same way about me, even
Though she is with a guy that
One must assume is her beau.

My reason is overcome by
This primal desire.

And I choose, because I can,
To turn away - to know that I
Am master of my desire.
That I choose beliefs and
Intelligence and integrity --
But I have to wonder. If I
Turn away from every woman
That I am attracted to,
How will my loneliness cease?

My reason is overcome by
This primal desire.

Friday Night Dharma

She came onto the train
Face wet
Mascara running
Looking like she'd been in a wreck
Eyes flickering around as if
Looking for escape
She walked with strength
Or panic
Or fury
Or numbness
Her habitual attentiveness gone

He followed
Attentive for once
Panicked
Shamed
Resentful
If he didn't want her public pain
He shouldn't have ambushed her
Why did he think it would go well
In public?

She strode through the car
Ignoring and aware
And slid into a seat for two
And turned her face to the window
And as he sat in the seat next to her
She leaned
Horrified at the possibility of touch

And they sat, silent
Ignoring each other
Aware of nothing else.
And in the dark of the tunnel
She tried to fix her eyes
In the mirror of the window
But couldn't bring herself to function
Once her eyes glanced off
Of his reflection
But only once

At their stop
He leapt up
Startled and afraid.
She strode away
Never looking back.
Never looking back
And he followed, her satellite

She was already making her own way
A pair had become two

I watched, and wished I was going their way
Fascinated
And sad
And sad
I yearned to warm myself
Against the fire of her strength
I turned instead
And went to sit
And to hear about the dharma

I am so tired

I have spent years trying to figure out
What normal looks like and trying
To emulate, to be it.
I am not normal.
I had a loveless childhood
I had abuse abuse abuse

I am sixty years old and have never
Never never never maintained a friendship
Can you understand that? Well I can't.
I periodically try, sometimes every two
Or three years, sometimes every ten
Or fifteen years, to open and chance and try

But up till now, I have not figured out
How to friend. People will act as if they
Really want time with me for a while
They come around and want to hang out
And I become  encouraged and begin
To reach out to and just maybe do it wrong?

I don't know. I don't know. I don't really know.
I just know that they go away.
Sometimes they tell me they are going away.
They put down a boundary. They tell me that
WE ARE NOT GOING TO BE FRIENDS
And sometimes they just stop answering and go.

Am I doing something wrong?
Am I being too needy?
Trust me, I am pretty fucking needy
But I try really hard not to show it.
The truth is that I just don't know, I just
Don't understand how to bond with another.

So. Sixty years of being alone.
Sixty years of just wanting to love
Sixty years of just wanting to be loved.
Translates now, into alone, alone, alone,
And I still don't know how to do
Anything about this fuckin' problem.

Oh, Diana

I know it's not my fault
And that you are not gone
Because I didn't pick up
But how I miss you
How I wish I'd answered

And now years later
A song takes me back
And I cry and miss you
I know it's not my fault
That you are gone.

All all those times with late night
Drunken calls I answered
Every one. I answered every one
But one. How hard to hear
The message that you were gone.

I know it's not my fault
And you are not gone
Because I failed to answer
I know it's not my fault
But you're still gone.

Inspired

The world is full of such subtlety
Everyone with their message
From the banal to the creative
Some who think themselves bold
Some who think themselves subtle
Have no idea, have no idea
That their obvious message
Is obscure to the other.
Obscure in art
Obscure in design
Obscure in taste
(Food or fashion or else.)
Celebrate yourself.
Your obviousness is
Someone else's obscurity.
Don't sell yourself short.
You ARE the inspiration of the day.

Unravels

The smell of leaf mould
Somehow goes a place
    in my mind where pain
        gets caught.
It unravels it.

Smell of leaf mold
Sanskrit chants
Someone standing
    against injustice
The triumph of the underdog
All keep me alive.
They unknot despair.
They give respect to my trauma.
They soothe it.

Mental illness catches.
It knots. It mats and tangles
And gives the illusion
That there is no ease.

The smell of leaf mould
Goes to a place
    in my mind where pain
        is often caught.
It unravels it.

Masculine Oppression

Some times I do not want
To have my attention drawn
To a perfect breast or
A curve of lip or
A toss of hair.

No!

I want to see what
Is without delusion from
My genetics finding
Her genetics suitable
For procreation.

No.

Is she good?
Is she mindful?
Is she interesting?

Is she honorable?

Is she true?

Yes.

Some times
I do not want
My attention drawn
To a perfect breast

But still, it is.

You have

Fucked up you
Have fucked up
You have fucked
UP.

You make it too hard.

You don't try.

That tells me.

I am not important

To you.

When you figure it out
Maybe I'll try again.
Perhaps not.

Sometimes

Sometimes people understand
That they have screwed up.
But they have screwed up.

They want to fix it
They wish things were fine
But they have screwed up.

They present a new self
A nicer kinder self
But they have screwed up

They want to shape
My image of them
But they have screwed up.

They let me know how they
Really see me
But they have screwed up.

Want to erase
The disdain and nothing
But they have screwed up.

Should I forgive?
They want me to
But they have screwed up.

They let me know
How important I am to them,
But they have screwed up.

I actually see
How important they think I am
They have screwed up.

They think me worthless
They think me nothing
But they have screwed up.

I actually rule, don't suck.
If you don't value me
You have screwed up.

Good bye.

STEM Cat

Cats have an effect on women.
Not all cats, mind you,
But asshole cats –
Siamese or their children
That do not suffer fools gladly.

What an effect they have
On the women sort of children.
They demonstrate that women are
The goddesses that run
The universe.

No doubts.
We are the center
Of our universe.
Get in our way at your peril.

In exactly this way are
STEM women created.

Same Old Story

You have heard it
A thousand times
But here it is. Mine.
Fresh over again
In my pain.
I am head over heels
Tumbling in love.

And amazingly
She loves me too
Perfectly, completely.
Not like that.
Friends
I won't tell her.
I'll keep my dignity.

Boyfriends Are Like Shoes

Some pinch and hurt
They aren't a good fit
But oh! How pretty.

Others, comfortable
Dirty and worn
Get you through rough times

Entwine

Such a beautiful line
Her arm
Around
Across
Fingers graceful
Touching his neck

Random Jerkoff

Let's talk about being mentally ill.
For me, that means that I can be
having a great day,
That nothing goes wrong,
And that I end up filled with pain
And cutting myself.
Let's not talk about
What happens
When something does go wrong.

Depressed

Today is good
I'm up and showered
Not laying and crying
But the weight is still crushing
Tears aren't far behind my eyes
I hope nothing goes wrong today
Then maybe tomorrow will be better
Or maybe not

Generous

Generous like rain
Generous like baby's smiles
Generous like children's sticky hands
Generous like evening breeze
Generous like the earth
Generous like a seed
Generous like doggie kisses
Generous like love

Stalking Wolf

I breath in slow
Scents drift across —
I know there is something
Something –
What?
I can almost taste it.
It's an idea or a phrase
Or something.

I slow the breath more
Let it barely drift, drift
Drift against the back of my throat
Sliiiiiiiding along my tongue.

I don't want to frighten it
These ones easily startle.
Eyes unfocused
Looking aside
So it won't vanish
Everything is ears and taste
And some more subtle sense.

There!
Don't look yet.
Is it? Let it gather,
Let it become.
Ahhhhh. There is my prey.
I tuck my haunches and POUNCE!

Poem.

To Eternity

She sits compact
Gazing into eternity
One hand on the tiller
Wind in her hair
Sailing through the storms
Of life and of mental illness
And of temptation

Her small fragile boat
Is miles from any safe shore
At times it's almost awash
But she bails and sails
And mindfully, skillfully
Keeps aim for better shores

Speaking ONLY to my sisters/brothers.

Oh, what a strange thing for you to be confronted
With a poem from a mentally ill person.
Full of pain from abuse.
I am full of pain from abuse.
I. CAN. NOT. ESCAPE. THE. ABUSE.

I put that pain to sleep with pain.
I cut myself - that puts that pain to bed.
You look at me and see normal
You look at me and project normal.
I am not normal.
I am broken all of my life.
I am broken all of my life.

Does it seem normal to you
That I take an X-ACTO blade to my flesh?
The Z-Series blade is the sharpest
The longest lasting blade in the history
Of X-ACTO blades cutting flesh.

Oh, how I sorrow for you being disturbed
By someone like me that Cuts. My. Flesh.
Probably seems strange to you.
Probably seems strange to you.
Pain to combat pain.
Pain to put pain to sleep.
Pain to survive.
Pain to not kill myself.
There is an explanation.

Pain of the body makes the brain
Tell the body not to hurt.

Pain of the body makes the brain
Tell the body not to hurt.

PAIN OF ABUSE YEARS AGO 

DOES NOT TELL THE BODY NOT TO HURT.

Pain of the body makes the brain
Tell the body not to hurt.

It settles the pain of abuse.

It settles the pain.

I can survive another day.

I can survive another day.

Do NOT judge me.

You do not in any way understand

Unless you feel a pain like mine.

Unless you are my sister.

Unless you are my brother.

We see.

We see each other.

We love.

I love you.

Lies

We live in delusion
Choosing to say what is not true
Pretending to believe what is not true
Two steps away from what's real

How subversive it would be
What a revolutionary it would take
To drop away from the stories
And fly away into the real

done in response to a poem by +DEBORAH MORAA​

Alien

He grows, mysterious, unknown.
Alien and unwanted.
Tinted green he is absorbed
As he absorbs.

Discarded

I lay here broken
Waiting for someone
To dig me from the rubble
Unable to write poetry.

Waking Up

It is possible
And certainly certain
That I am wrong about many things
That I am sure that I know

Tonglen

Sorrow pours over like ink
Like gel covering – sealing
And I struggle, struggle

To take it in
To transform it to joy
To breathe it out