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Allow me the time …
To stand and stare,
To ponder on the how and where,
To lose myself in thoughtfulness,
To unknot my mind’s tangled mess,
To consider and to meditate,
To transform into a Zen like state,
To notice reflections and reflect,
To self-diagnose and introspect,
To absorb all of nature’s treasure,
And to enjoy this age old pleasure,
Allowing my heart to beat more slowly,
Not thinking all creatures are below me,
To quietly try to comprehend,
The meaning of life and to what end,
To allow my soul to come into view,
To allow my spirit to mend, renew.
Carved from marble,
                                                   marvelous and draped in my covers,
                                        floating above my head in a puff of smoke or
                                                                ­                 as a cartoonish memory

I stay in bed today,
peeking through the blinds.
Surrounded by no one but my
soft and artificial menagerie,
I'm bubbling at the lip.

There are sacks of rice sitting
right above my hips and they're
heavy. Who will help me hold them?
Pressing a thumb to the surface and wincing;
I can feel the grains shifting under my skin.

Today I cooked the rice.
                   ­                                                                 ­               , I swear.
Heat built up in the *** til steam was lifting off my skin^
Hard crunchy bits to tenderize,
softening under the lid.

When I felt that click,
I broke out my wooden spoon
and ate a big plate.
The warm fluffy substance blessed my full cheeks and belly.
For the first time,
I felt like I wasn't hungry.

Maybe tomorrow when I bathe
I'll grow 3 or 4 times my size.
I will fill up the tub,
ceramic squeezing my fleshy form into a
rectangular shape.

Stick a spoon in
and eat me piece by piece.
a metaphor for using meditation to overcome physical and emotional but mostly physical pain
if stars are still lit it means there is someone who needs them.
It means someone wants to love,
Why then do we feel so much pain and heaviness of heart?
are we waiting for something, regretting anything?
To whom I can strech out my hand in the somber desert?
Who will accompany me on the empty night?
Who will give me a fiery day?
Who will bring back the sea that left?
No hope here. Torment is certain.
Without sacredness in the emptiness of this world of ours,
the heart of man fades like a flower.  
Suddenly, the shuddering of the heavens penetrating my soul,
Oh never let the parting sun, no star is ever lost we once have seen, the long rains will continue to fall.
Rama Krsna Apr 24
after searching
here, there, everywhere,
i behold
right under my nose,
the crescent bearing jewel
whose fragrance is pure jasmine,
in that peaceful void
between my
in and outgoing breath

© 2021
Nicole Apr 23
centered, I envision my next flux for the illuminant
deepening each stretch, I angle to the ruminant
breaths breathed deep, I press into a bent round
clearing my mind space, hands grasping at the ground

mornings pass by, entering each one in the same
renewing by imitating nature's avid, sparking flame
rhythm artlessly singing, conflict emptied at the door
consciousness absolved, my bond begins here on the floor
Rama Krsna Apr 17
true mantra needs
a seer
a meter
and a presiding deity

that fickle mind
with a haunting rhythm
of neatly arranged syllables

a giant
strike anywhere match
which triggers
that fuse of devotion
in the lotus-like heart
of the true devotee

© 2021
dedicated to the great rishis and their amazing mantras
Existence that remains unknown is existence without rules.
Since 'kun fiya kun' or "Be, and it is" is so basic,
the only answer to "being" that solves is b+e=be.
Still I question: "what am I, now?" as if I've never heard an answer.

My mind cannot cognize its own existence with "be" nor another verb.
Its rationality is as truth, which has no limits.
Yet, in the midst of expansion it asks "what am I?"
Answering: "fullness" is rejected when I can reject the fullness.

"Disbelief" is what I am when everything is going right but I must say "I am not there yet".
This disbelief is the wind in my sails, without it I would not have gone anywhere.
For even positive knowledge says "there is more to find", really saying "you are not you".
Thus, I am never.
Whereby "be" laughs and says "still, there is nothing".
The mystic missed the mist

For he was focused on the most

The waterfall, the all, the awe

No longer just the grist, the gist

He was the mill, the real, the wheel

No longer knowing, he could fully feel

Past the taste, the snack, and to the meal

So freely given he could not hope to steal
Thank you for being. If you would like to see more of my poetry, essays, and other writings, check out my blog on Medium:
Forget your past
Forget your bad memories
Great teachers
Often tell
So you remember
Bad memories
You need
To forget
Your efforts to forget
Turn out
Efforts to remember
You find
Each and every memory
It's a real curse
Forget your past
Forget your bad memories
Great teachers
Often tell!
Scientific evidence is there that it is possible to block bad memories. You can consult a psychologist and/or a psychiatrist if need be. Best is not to make conscious efforts to forget bad memories. Practice meditation and yoga. Bad memories wouldn't be erased. But associated torturous emotions are set at rest giving relief.
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