#enneagram
Wel koude he rede a lesson or a storie,
But alderbest he song an offertorie
-Chaucer, General Prologue 70-71
Some travelling nuns offered an enneagram weekend
Making the parish hall a lab for self-discovery
Nine truths about the self for a small fee stipend
Two afternoons of healing for the soul’s recovery
The Law of Three and the Law of Seven
Tritipes and Wings and something called Triads
Ride your Hexagon around to Heaven
(Please power down your MePhones and IPads)
If everyone in the world worked out his enneagram…
We’d still have cope with holy grifters, so ****
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 9:53 AM UTC
There is a voice I hear in my head.
The familiarity of it's demands leaves an ache in my forehead.
It forces me to stand up and try again, and again, and again.
It tells me to reach higher above the clouds and into the galaxies of possibilities or else I will be low into the ground of soiled promises.
It cannot be silenced for it is engrained in every neuron that fires in my brain.
I wonder what would happen if I didn't listen but instead worked at my own leisure in my meadows of thought.
What would become of me?
Would I melt into an unabled thing that trudges along or would I lose the will to create a life that isn't what people see in the future?
Would I become a piece of lint floating through the air and time?
The voice has silenced me with the fear of being without it. It has silenced me with fear of barely skimming the surface of what could be.
The voice doesn't tell me to drown, it tells me to swim even when I want to lie still.
It is the will to keep going.
Jan 24, 2020
Jan 24, 2020 at 9:46 AM UTC
Here, have a dime,
My two cents by Five:
You're not that sublime
When it comes to being alive.
You slam some door and claim your might;
Not impressed by how you've dared
To shut the doors and scream to fight;
You're the kid that's truly scared
Of all the things you can't control,
All the things you'll never know;
Not fear nor anger will fill that hole;
Even roots must break dirt to grow.
You're stuffed in far too small a space;
Cramped wings find no room to fly;
Sometimes I wish you'd have the grace
To just let go and simply cry.
So much lost in the fear of being wrong;
A self-fulfilling prophecy in every song, when in point of fact:
There's more to life than being strong;
Your inner child's got a cataract.
You're the match that sets yourself aflame,
Because somedays you still need to feel;
Anything less would be far too tame
In this search for something real.
All I know of timeless wealth
Is how to give a loving hand;
We have to be the one to see ourself, but
By your side I Truly stand.
To speak of what's true:
If every fear is just projection
Then if I am to question you
Surely I speak to my own reflection.
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 9:10 PM UTC
Is anyone real out there?
What a horrible question to tear
Apart this life,
Which always rhymes with strife
Because there's a limited number of ways
To say we're running short of plays
To fill these broken days
I don't think I'm better than anyone
I don't think I'm magically The One
But I also don't feel real
And here's the whole spiel
Maybe these bones are made to rust
At the intersection of fear and trust
'Cos all this pain is just reflection
Every fear is just projection
Insanity - I cannot condone
If we want to be free, do we have to be alone?
Whatever else is true, whatever ways I'll rot -
I truly love you; words are all I've got
The 4's attachment is being broken;
All that's expressed is just a token
I can only show the 2d shell
And so I Truly wish you well
But I'd sooner save you from this spell
Hey broken one: are you reading yet?
This is for you, so don't forget
The rhythm doesn't matter
All words will fade, left in tatters
And though this path we can't condone
I swear to you: you're not alone.
You're somewhere amidst the thought and ****
I bid to you: please stop and look
The slightest difference between we:
I'm a permutation of thee
I know the things you cannot say
I, too, seek each shattered Way
Combing The NeverNever every day
For another reason to stay.
I know you fear you've fallen wrong,
But there's meaning in your song;
Long past the end of time,
What's true will shine through every rhyme.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 2:20 AM UTC
I could sit and stare,
And bide my time;
Thoughts rip and tear,
And try to rhyme.
Somehow it seems so strange
That though we poets,
Filled with strands of gold or gray,
Can rarely find a way to say
What's truly on our minds;
We're too caught up in the blinds.
Perfection is a savage curse,
But self-rejection's even worse.
Maybe it's okay to be afraid;
You can't pick and choose what to feel;
Know your soul's not being weighed, so
Put pen to page and just be real.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 3:45 AM UTC
I wanna write in the bath
Just to prove I can,
So I am;
No clue what I'll say,
But that's okay;
I don't need an in to win;
I just gotta play.
Language conquers mind;
Maybe we're all too blind
From the search for a metaphor,
A greater meaning, a Something More;
I wonder what we might be
Without the concept of you vs me?
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 3:39 AM UTC
Swear you’ll hold her tight
From sounds that screech,
And all the things that try to reach
Corrosive claws for her thoughts at night.
She may not be able to express
The demons she faces when she dares,
So never tell her no one cares;
Just love her and she won’t repress.
She’s stronger than she’ll ever know, so
Don’t try to be just her hero;
Be the place she’s safe at zero,
And watch what wonders love will show.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 2:41 PM UTC
Look back - my sight was black and white,
A decidedly dividing definition;
“Surely now I see what’s right” –
What a presumptuous premonition.
Fast forward a few:
“All scenes shall shatter.”
Nihilism, not new; just
Cognitive chatter.
Even Nothing now ends
in a burst of ferocious flame;
The love that she sends
renders the Big Bang tame.
You ask what I believe:
As though it’s set in stone;
As though there’s some reprieve;
As though I’ve fully grown.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 2:26 PM UTC
Where should I begin?
I really cannot say;
A circle knows no start or end,
Yet I know no other way.
I really cannot say
I understand myself.
Yet I know no other way;
In every eye I see wealth.
I understand myself:
A mirror, nothing more.
In every eye I see wealth,
And I open every door.
A mirror, nothing more;
A circle knows no start or end;
If I’m to open every door…
Where should I begin?
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 2:21 PM UTC
Here's a poet's plight:
To force words to come is a fight;
Gorgeous nothings hold no light;
Meaning shall not bow to might.
Thirty thousand words or more –
All just sounds heard before;
But somewhere deeper there's a door,
A certain feeling from some core.
Or, in clearer words:
I have nothing Great to say,
but That shouldn't stop me anyway
From speaking when I feel I must;
No other way to reverse this rust.
Perfection is a savage
Curse to ravage the mind
'Round and round in circles, growing blind.
But of all the stones and stars
Or overpriced, shiny cars
The greatest gift of all you give
Is that you let me gently live.
You accept me as I am,
Tarred and scarred and marred with gray,
There's a thousand whispers, but they're all okay
When they won't be judged anyway.
There's this frustrating little tic
Where no words can quite click
Because no lovely language can compress
or stress enough meaning into a tiny little space
That could give a hint of a trace
Of the meaning that was felt.
Suffice to say it seems somehow insufficient,
Nothing Great, simply true:
You're wonderful as you.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
Oh Bleeding Heart
up on a shelf
You always tug on mine
So rough around the edges
but without withholding any thought
You paint the surest picture of humanity
Watching you becomes like being pierced
with rainbow needles
It seems the Way you sing your life
You can’t open your mouth without spitting blood
You have your teeth and need no knife
I wish I was inspired to write for you a balm
But no such calm intrudes
Type 4s incite each other
Fire feeding off of Fire
fighting for a stage
at once against and together
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 3:44 PM UTC
I’ve drunk to the point of nausea
the deepness of my soul
And still I force myself to drink
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 3:46 PM UTC
The incessant need for togetherness,
More alone than a single blade grass,
Relationships that need foreverness,
As fused as are the grains of sand in glass.
Relentlessly seeking love through giving,
From an abyss of generosity,
To connect with loving souls is living,
With such self-proclaimed virtuosity.
To be close is just to make someone feel,
To give just to elicit emotion.
And love returned for giving is the deal
Like a returning pendulum’s motion.
This instinct brings innocents elation.
Why does it reek of manipulation?
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 8:18 PM UTC
When every window is a mirror,
When you cannot see real life as it is,
When you think the world shows yourself clearer,
Then that reflection of you is amiss.
When how you feel is how you think you are,
When abandonment makes you run away,
When your own anger leaves you with the scar,
Then it’s you who are the one you betray.
When the same brokenness repeats itself,
When the same cries of resentment are spilled,
When unable to see blame in yourself,
Then your prophecy becomes self-fulfilled.
When you accept you have goodness inside,
When you forgive and accept affection,
When you let yourself be loved from outside,
Then at last you will see your reflection.
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
It's so sad
Being a three wing two
If they'd give you the moon
I'd give you the entire galaxy
It's so sad
Being a three wing two
Because deep down I know
Only the moon would make you happy
It's so sad
Being a three wing two
Having no idea what to do
With the galaxy I just got you
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC