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21/M/Arizona
21
zimbabwe
nothing is ever a mistake..it means it was meant to happen.
Poems
Aditya Oct 2018
I am a Mandala
Aditya
Oct 2018
An innocent Child
growing into a Man,
A journey of Evolution,
A natural Phenomena,
Physicality is a Mandala.
Emotions in Abundance,
Rising in Love,
Only to Fall,
A Mercurial Drama,
The Heart is a Mandala.
Choices to Baffle,
Time conquered Memories,
Sharpness of the Mind,
Like the sparkle in Cola,
Intellect is a Mandala.
A jar wrapped in Silk,
Holding the Fragments,
of a colorful Identity,
Disappearing into a Nebula,
FOR I AM A MANDALA
growing into a Man,
A journey of Evolution,
A natural Phenomena,
Physicality is a Mandala.
Emotions in Abundance,
Rising in Love,
Only to Fall,
A Mercurial Drama,
The Heart is a Mandala.
Choices to Baffle,
Time conquered Memories,
Sharpness of the Mind,
Like the sparkle in Cola,
Intellect is a Mandala.
A jar wrapped in Silk,
Holding the Fragments,
of a colorful Identity,
Disappearing into a Nebula,
FOR I AM A MANDALA
The Sand Mandala is a Tibetan Buddhist tradition of creating a design representing the cosmos. Once this beautiful design is created, it is dismantled to symbolize the ephemeral nature of our existence.
Nothing is permanent — whether it is the temporary nature of our physicality or the fickle nature of our heart and mind.
Live THIS Moment before it becomes History.
Nothing is permanent — whether it is the temporary nature of our physicality or the fickle nature of our heart and mind.
Live THIS Moment before it becomes History.
Cecelia Francis Jan 2015
Life is a mandala!
Cecelia Francis
Jan 2015
Life is a mandala!
Everything is a mandala!
-oh my God, I can use my lungs-
Nothing lasts and nothing
matters, however lovely
or terrible
Murderous fingers ripping
unimposing string of
yarn, row by
hourly row
Everything is a mandala!
-oh my God, I can use my lungs-
Nothing lasts and nothing
matters, however lovely
or terrible
Murderous fingers ripping
unimposing string of
yarn, row by
hourly row
@sq our mantra
Anubis the Philosomancer Jun 2013
Mandala of Irony
Anubis the Philosomancer
Jun 2013
Short sidedness,
blistering thoughts;
selfish predisposition:
What a world!
Hypocritical claims
about profound lack of wisdom
and fear of loneliness;
Deeply ironic statements
about some lust to be alone
that you felt as you ******:
Your words seem well chosen and articulated,
and perhaps in time will become true;
but it seems to me that they right now
are as hollow and transient as the space
between your actions, logic, and resolve:
I've found very little
that can make me stop
to laugh and cry all at once,
perhaps a few pieces of Beethoven's music and some really ******* good metal;
but you sit atop that short list
on your rather gorgeous and elegant hubristic throne,
mocking the progress I've made,
oozing with scorn and spite:
You have so much to learn before you will be regarded as you like to assume you are:
"Responsible"; word around the campfire is: hardly.
"Honest"; perhaps in words, but apparently not actions.
"Mature"; physically, it seems, but mentally? Not so much.
"Respectful"; only to yourself, and seemingly not even that.
I tried to help, and clearly failed.
If it were a test, you cheated;
didn't bother to see how it could've been,
but hey:
at least you were honest.
At least you told the Truth,
though your actions were untrue.
I thought I loved you;
I thought I needed you.
Perhaps I did,
but it has run it's course:
you killed it on purpose.
I suppose it served it's purpose to you;
that I have served my purpose to you.
I detach myself from you,
and from myself, in the process,
and in the process, I fall in love
with those aspects of myself
I so seek in others:
Darkness; honesty. Honor. Intellect.
Humour. Creativity, balance. Respect.
A level of elegance, but an amount of "**** it";
Mental maturity, to an extent.
A moderate badass. A **** badass.
Though, it seems,
the path to Heaven is paved with good intentions,
and is built with the bones of the hopeful,
and is illuminated by unfounded faith
in ****** ******* people:
A mandala of Irony.
blistering thoughts;
selfish predisposition:
What a world!
Hypocritical claims
about profound lack of wisdom
and fear of loneliness;
Deeply ironic statements
about some lust to be alone
that you felt as you ******:
Your words seem well chosen and articulated,
and perhaps in time will become true;
but it seems to me that they right now
are as hollow and transient as the space
between your actions, logic, and resolve:
I've found very little
that can make me stop
to laugh and cry all at once,
perhaps a few pieces of Beethoven's music and some really ******* good metal;
but you sit atop that short list
on your rather gorgeous and elegant hubristic throne,
mocking the progress I've made,
oozing with scorn and spite:
You have so much to learn before you will be regarded as you like to assume you are:
"Responsible"; word around the campfire is: hardly.
"Honest"; perhaps in words, but apparently not actions.
"Mature"; physically, it seems, but mentally? Not so much.
"Respectful"; only to yourself, and seemingly not even that.
I tried to help, and clearly failed.
If it were a test, you cheated;
didn't bother to see how it could've been,
but hey:
at least you were honest.
At least you told the Truth,
though your actions were untrue.
I thought I loved you;
I thought I needed you.
Perhaps I did,
but it has run it's course:
you killed it on purpose.
I suppose it served it's purpose to you;
that I have served my purpose to you.
I detach myself from you,
and from myself, in the process,
and in the process, I fall in love
with those aspects of myself
I so seek in others:
Darkness; honesty. Honor. Intellect.
Humour. Creativity, balance. Respect.
A level of elegance, but an amount of "**** it";
Mental maturity, to an extent.
A moderate badass. A **** badass.
Though, it seems,
the path to Heaven is paved with good intentions,
and is built with the bones of the hopeful,
and is illuminated by unfounded faith
in ****** ******* people:
A mandala of Irony.