Could it be that I have pushed away pain and sorrow and failure to the point that I have nothing to gain? That I have dumbly succeeded and that is what drives my misery now. This normal ho-hum day cycling on and on and on. I can feel it, this cycle, I know it exists and that I exist within it, but I cannot see the whole of it. I feel it in my bones, in my tendons, ligaments, and muscles. This habitual energy flows through me. I’ve worked so hard to proliferate this endless bloom.
Tag: depression
Resistance
Habits are memories in action
Inaction is resistance
Resistance is the sound the wind makes
Rain streaked window pane
When you go
don’t slam the door
when you go
it’s all gone
it seems i’ve got it out for myself
afraid of really livin’
i always make it harder
and when you’re not around
my head gets to spinnin’
habits are memories
in action
inaction is resistance
resistance is the sound
wind makes
When you go
don’t slam the door
when you go
it’s all gone
So sick of this self deception and
inattention we’re living in
mirrors of reflections man
it’s alright,
it’s alright,
it’s all light
it’s all light
Once i get caught up in these shadows
you think i’m missin’
but all i need from you
is to fuckin’ listen
Habits
are memories in action
Inaction is resistance
Resistance is the sound
that wind makes.
When you go
don’t slam the door
when you go
it’s all gone
I’ve got this gene
It’s self defeating
I know I can’t win
Because I always give in.
Habits
are memories in action
Inaction is resistance
Resistance is the sound
that wind makes.
Too Many Mistakes (A Poem)
Well, i was laying on my side, melting into the mattress,
liquid layers of vibrations, carrying me away.
i was listening to my aura, as subatomic
particles in mid flight; like a helicopter above and
around my head. i felt the energy created through a lifetime
my heart beats like a time bomb, everything whirring
into a directionless direction.
I could feel the anger and resentment
built up in adolescence, aimed at the world
-which didn’t care either way.
I could feel the weight of the damage done over the years
trying to punish this body
that caused so much pain
-and it turns out this body doesn’t care either.
corroded stomach lining,
eaten away by battery acid.
weakened bladder, what does it matter?
if i’d had the resolve
and the right concentration
i could’ve continued my transcendence
back into the subatomic Original vibrations
but i was distracted,
again,
by the fear of having made
too many irreversible mistakes.
Addiction (A Poem)
Addiction
Replete with silence
mistaken for taken sides
an escape artist
i’ve mastered the illusion of being here
with my hands bound i drown
sinking into a sea of misery
escaping from reality.
seagulls’ echoed cries of agony and
hunger pierce the surface
of this mirrored illusion. refractions of
sparkling lights and distorted fantasies
dance like idyllic reruns on a liquid screen.
filled with conflict and struggle
i look for distractions in actions
-typical American response really-
there’s always something out there,
to make it all better again.
i transform the object into what i need,
simultaneously the object transforms me
again and again.
this sinking does not have a sinking feeling
in the vastness of expanse i close my eyes
it feels like a primordial womb
a viscid mix: sediment and water
walls of feathery pink tissue undulate
purple fingerling tendrils caress me
they are and are not my body
heartbeats and pressure builds
compressing coralline ribs
split fragments pierce lungs
forgotten -what was i escaping?
somewhere in between
reverberations and nothingness,
swallowed in the abyss
where even a thousand buddhas couldn’t
hear my song,
bottomless shadows fill the sea
i writhe
singing back into infinity
this void holds no sound
i’m bound to repetition.
All of My Life
My life
All of my life
I’ve been runnin’
From thoughts (from you)
My life
All of my life
I’ve been runnin’
from truths
runnin’ from myself.
Why does it feel like the weight of this world
is pressin’ down on me,
the whole of
the collective
unconscious,
steppin’ down
right on me.
If I could just
give it all up
and set myself free
from duality
it would’ve been worth all of the pain.
My lord, My lord
My life
All of the time
I’ve been runnin’ from pain
runnin’ from you. runnin’ from me.
I guess I’ll have to say goodbye
Pack it all in
with the hazy lemon sky above me,
And leave the World behind
Scatter my ashes with the wind
‘Cause it don’t matter where I been.
YOU ARE THE DEAD!
In this world death is boredom,
it is the sinking feeling in your heart
and your chest, pulling you down into the
couch. A voice echoes, rippling through the corridors of space
trapped within a mind.
When you are the dead you don’t care about anything.
Death is routine. It’s having the same reaction to a similar set of circumstances,
and feeling like every day is exactly the same
I know this world well.
It’s a living hell.
In this world death follows you daily
because it manifests as the illusion of freedom
Real death is in action, as in the action of following
thoughts.
trapped within a mind.
constantly trying to leave something behind
You are the Dead.
(Note: the title is from the arrest scene in 1984, where Big Brother busts into Winston’s apt. and we hear, “You are the Dead! Remain exactly where you are. Make no moves until you are ordered!” Not meant as some proselytization of Buddhist theory. Since the poem seems to take from some of the themes of 1984 this scene came to mind and thus the title.)
What is freedom? Are thoughts free? What are thoughts anyway? When we choose to believe in the form of a thought, we die. Or so I’ve read.
