guru-deva

waiting to be hit hard on the head
with some incredible universal truth,
to escape the continuous mercilessness of this existence.
i have not quite crossed through the door to god,
but i am definitely standing at the threshold.

pushing open a cosmic eye because the other two really are blind
(can you not see that i am sightless in all this?)
awnting to see with that vision, that spiritual purple vision
to see goodness in the faces of all, people,
despite my prior feelings about the whole thing


crazy madtalker boddhisattva

i can't get the image out of my head; the image ou failed to mention but knew i'd eventually disconver. stabbed not once, but many times over last night in the midst of something i thought was a spiritual goodness. maybe god wants to test me, and if so, i definitely failed that test.
you lay with her nightly now, and nothing is going on, you sleep in the bed of the woman you have loved for more than a decade, and loved even when you were telling me how much you loved me. i guess that doesn't matter now, because i can't have your sensitivity, it's never something i was given willingly
[extracting teeth]
i want to extract these teeth, want them gone from my mouth the emotions i cannot control because you have bound me with your physical cord now, i can't get myself far enough from you now even though you dissappeared months ago without any explanation.
where have you been?
always, you say, "going to a place, doing something, visiting someone." why can't you just say it so it doesn't drag a long the bottom of my mind? it's always going to hurt me, whether you say it or not because i'll always know. your tenderness failed me when i needed it most, it slipped into a convenient escape from youre forever, and we had a collision.. things are never the same again.
you can never go home again
and i haven't been home in years the closest i've been was tucked safe into a bed that required nothing of me but honesty and that bed's been gone a long time now, every time i find myself in another i wonder could this be my sanctuary? nothing has sufficed.
i am trying to find a karmic balance, but there are so many hardships to face, and i am doing it alone. first i pray, then i weep. i pray that god will fill my soul with peace, and give me the strength to be what i have to. i rest in that peace, the hollow of mighty hands, but i cannot seem to stay there very long. real life is never very far away.

all of life is suffering
the cause of suffering is desire
to end suffering, one must end desire
to end desire, follow the eight-fold path.

and too scared to write the way i want
to scared to force the words out into open air
they hover like rain
at the crest of open lips.

wanting to find that african name that makes me tremble
just to think of it.
give you strength
give you strength
or as they say
strengf

african.
strenght.
roar like mighty lions of judah.

wanting to fill in the cracks with easy caulk
life will cometogether at some time,
it can't be helped.

where has my poetry gone?
back into the trees with the maddness.

the holy rosary of what is.

he is not, i am not, i think she is.
what is it?

looking backwards into the past at dan

last night i dreamed he took me in that old rusty pickup truck
to a park on a hill in midwinter
and everything was alright,
plain alright.

a couple days ago, i told myself i couldn't cope if i heard he was getting married.
in the dream,
he confided to me that he'd proposed to her,
and she was alright,
mighty alright.

we walked side by side through snow and beautiful darkness
and were happily innocent
and so i confided in him that i had growing in me
a little thing
and that felt alright,
just alright.

our conversations weren't choked, and i'd always wanted him to be happy
and so now he was in the dream,
that was enough for me
it was alright,
quite alright.

when i awoke i wanted to telephone him,
but remembered that we haven't spoken in nearly a year.
i'll let that contentment settle in peacefully
and hope that he's alright,
plenty alright.

sleeping with the enemy
and the enemy sleeps with my friends
then who is the enemy?
who is the enemy?

the night wears on like flannel underthings
things that have not stirred in sometime

who is the enemy?

waiting for the thing i know will never come
he will never surrender to me peacefully,
they always prefer to be mistreated
so later,
they can look back and say,
i was as good a man as i could have been.

but is it still being as good as can be
when the efforts are wasted away on trivialities?

heart jumps at the thought,
exhale at the reality, it is still nothing.
it is full of tincan wishes
kickiing down an empty street,
rattling like bones.

therapy

my therapy my therapy
this is my new therapy the way it started long ago expressing hopes and dreams for the future. scribbled down a few minutes before i run out the door. therapy therapy, i feel everything is read into i feel everything is not said as clearly as possible, that things aren't as cut and dry as they seem.
he spoke to my mother yesterday, and my aunt was his first sale at the store. we are connected divinely to through the universe, but still stopped. hope. dead. i can't push it away, but they can push me away. "she's an old soul, don't you think?" and "take care of my daughter" when she can't take care of me at all.
who will take care of me? i feel myself slowly slipping away back into the ether, but i am not afraid so much anymore... a promise is a promise and december is coming slow, some reason, i can't wait for december. a world away, to be kept company by icicles and the sound of crashing waves. why did i ever leave there, there where it was always december and i was always safe?
i want that feeling back, the full emptiness that surged in the cold beneath layers of soft cloth. i want to be held tightly like a precious thing, a delicate thing. i want it all to quiet down.