A Moment Forever

Spinning the spindle that is my mind
Tasks proven simple are often tried
The constant ceaseless ever unknowing
Sustained growth goes without showing

When snowing
no one is thinking of this moment.
With no great lender
the time that was given was stolen.
We've re-gifted
these ill-gotten family heirlooms
We scarce remember
we're made of our ancestors tombs

In a bit of a tiff with my brain
Observing the real that I feign
Only this moment will unfold
Into the endless stories we've told

Then you're old
and you've just learned how
Telling stories
at times you were in the now
The future is pending
so time'll stop being soon
Tire of old worries
now you're free to look about the room.

what care can i take in the absence of love?

I've hid myself for long cold days
Watching as the wind writes plays
In spring again, I let hope seep through
I'll pretend, I'm at home with you
But I feel it's untrue

I hide myself convinced of the chill
In fear of a world filled with ill will
I dream of a light, idealistically bright
But try as I might, the projections not right
I give myself the slight

I beat myself thoroughly
Thinking its desired
Hopes of a light
Have all but expired
But the fire is waning
The logs are too wet
Drying so slowly
By the coals they are set

My weeping persists
And makes worse of the issue
Using wet logs
As a bludgeoning tissue
I shed blood sweat and tears
But there's nothing to mourn
A humble sweet care
Will get this fire to form

What gift do I have the power to give
If I can not get this fire to live
The intention is clear, expression is not
Filled with sheer fear, false battles are fought
I'm setting traps for my own legs to be caught

I am filling myself with a false loves' heat
Ideas and addictions I'm doomed to repeat
I long to indulge, and force them away
As I divulge, I wish you would say
...I love you anyway

Ide eye

Who even am I? This question riddles my brain. I know the answer so why am I not answering? The trance is thickening. I forget my goals. I forget my trials. I forget my friends. I forget my family. I forget my dog. And everything given to me, the one thing I remember is me. But who even am I? You are something the whole world is doing. Who are you? Many different answers to the same question... All correct. I break my back and strain my neck looking at what's next. Answering worldly problems but ignoring what has me vexed. I am not defined by what I do. I am not defined by you. I am not defined by an ever flowing context of turmoil and happiness. I am not defined by my actions. I am not defined by my memories. I am not defined by anything. I am defined by everything. Everything but me, assimilating in the sea. The tide rushes in and in a moment I will be where I have never been, stuck in familiar and very new trends. It's the salt that I become separating from myself, with the sea, I become one. "I" will be gone when I am done.

Passage from the Library of Babel

Unfocused repurposed
Fixed and unbroken
Leaving our speech
Mostly unspoken

Yet we'll triumph through life

Too many pages
And they're already written

Book after book
In a hidden infinite
But look what you took
Through hard work and labor
Something remarks on
Your tiny stay here

We pause for effect
Causing affect
Our hands so deft
Becoming adept
Scanning the pages
For something outrageous
Its becoming more painless
that's truly the key
Through all these ages
Its noticing me
And creating the context
For perceiving a 'we'
From so many angles
Who knows what we'll see?

tar/ no tar

sleep illudes me again
123 ready to go
the rest of the world disagrees
so i meditate on sacred blue

i feel heavy
not from the lack of sleep
not from sadness
hunger
i have plenty of food
but i eat the fake bits

the moment is nice
calm
still
exactly the space
i want to tell my secrets to
i wish i wanted a cigarette

know rain

i can smell the change
it looms over me like a rain cloud
ready to burst

the pressure drops
then it all falls
no rain no life

i sit in the wet
cursing it
wishing i were dry

i wonder what its like
to be in a warm place,
depressed in agony

everything you own
is now gone to the elements
destruction of your evidence

now you are free
there are no things
to weigh you down

free to change
vocation,
mood or town

no one can stop you
there is nothing to take
unburdened with responsibility

now your mind is open
clear of worldly goods
all is viewed objectively

you have made a choice
wisdom over wealth
sacrificing health

i can hear the change
it flows in like a calm river
happy to host

it cleans and nourishes
more than just you
know rain know life

i sit in the water
splashing it
happy that i'm wet

i wonder what its like
to take life for granted,
calm in connection

words

i can’t hold my mind 
the hostage of itself 
wanderings of a mime 
and loss in the rest

float on down stream
with the rats and the bees 
killing all that they see

where has the time gone? 
oh i know
its right here beside me 
upset and renewing 
accordingly
and consistently

knowledge of everything 
won’t make you less lonely
it brings only more questions 
the desires of a fool
falling out toward the seaside 
calling you a phony

i don’t care what you think
you are as insignificant as myself 
in the end
where it all goes
is back into the ground
don’t get too self righteous
tell me i read into things too much 
you think im lying at every corner 
from reality,
i believe you’ve lost touch 

my dharma of mindful zen

one step at a time
progress to the reverse
theres no forward
across the universe
yet we rehearse
telling our stories
making up fables
who among us is willing and able?
it's all in good fun
when theres no war to be won.
the song is unsung
when all's said and done.

you fish for your food
repair your old shoes
taking good care of an ever aging you
old age and disease
wisdom encased
what will we learn
from being deceased
in a fate we all face.

let it all drop
fall to its end
because the beginning
is non different
from the end, the zen
mother goose,
the writing pen,
the whole world
and single women and men.
you are nothing special,
yet you are all that is.
duality attacks
bringing inner peace
a war of kindness
that will not cease
and that is what i call my dharma.

art is suffering

they say to make art

first you must starve,

you need to wait until the words pour out of you in a fiery horrid blaze

they need to drain you of all emotion 

leaving your chalice empty after you pour its contents on the page

they need to reflect the pain you feel inside

then they need to make you relive it

see it over and over

and make others who read it feel the same

maybe that's true

but maybe, just maybe

these words can heal

they can be the outlet for pain

a place to keep all of the bad so you can feel good

maybe the happier poems are accompanied by depressed poets

maybe the depressed horrible poems are where the true happiness is from.

mississippi liv'n

my lord it's lazy in the south, it's early april and already its hot as a vermont summer. claire and i have stopped at a hare krishna farm for a little while. we are learning about herbs, gardening, and krishna consciousness. everyone in this town is a vegetarian and spiritually conscious. i have not met an unkind person yet. our dog is free our space is our own, as well as our day. there is an incredible amount to learn here, i can't wait.