"fundamentally" poems
Someone recently
asked me
what do I
think about
modern dating?
I responded by
saying we live
in a culture mired
in instant gratification,
i call modern dating
fast food dating
high volume dating
low nutrition dating
We constantly consume
But are forever
more
and
more lonely,
we do not spend
the time to build
value in our own
soul,
love in our hearts ,
so we come to a
relationship taking
and taking and taking
instead of giving.
Fundamentally
selfishness is the
massacre of
all relationship,
and our culture
specializing in crowning
self ruler of all.
And selfishly
we surmise that
We are all
Kings
and
Queens
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who’s always with me
To the one who helped me become the person I’m today
To the one who taught me to treat others how I treat myself
Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose approval I craved
To the one who helped me understand that nobody will ever care for me
To the one who taught me that I’m a piece of garbage myself
Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose laugh I was scared of
To the one who helped me know that I’m undeserving of love
To the one who taught me to hate the mirror image of myself
Happy Mother’s Day to the person whose voice haunts me
To the one who helped me avoid responsibility and criticism
To the one who taught me reasons why I should **** myself
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me scared of thinking
To the one who helped me breed hate in who fundamentally am
To the one who taught me that others will always be better than myself
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made feel guilty of my depression
To the one who helped me find innovative ways to hurt me without a trail
To the one who taught me that everything wrong is a fault in myself
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me a mom to my siblings
To the one who helped me get rid of my carefree childhood joy
To the one who taught me that in life one can only care for themself
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who isolated me of the ones I loved
To the one who helps me know my worth in negative numbers
To the one who taught me jealousy and that I'm hers
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who fed me lies as facts
To the one who helped me befriend an ED princess
To the one who taught me that was the only way to be one
Happy Mother’s Day to the person who made me scared of accomplishing my dreams
To the one who helped me endure years of abuse and neglect as a mask for love
To the one who taught me that I could never be truly happy
Happy Mother's Day to the person who polluted the word mother for me
To the person who made me dread being a mother myself
To the person that I'm horrified of emulating and ******* other child's life up
Happy Mother's Day to my mom
May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC
Could ADD just be a term we describe a growing amount of people who's consciousness has been fundamentally shaped from an early age from a heavy exposure to videogames, culture, computer usage, television and our educational system in tandem.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
Up very early on this particular morning
couldn't sleep not unusual.
Trillions of thoughts racing in his brain
leaving his lovely wife in bed!
knowing to well the problems he'd created
met another himself he hated.
Nine months Jamie had been having an affair
his wife asking why he was late.
On numerous days his mistress wanting him
easy to say it just happened!
How could he let his fling get out of hand
he knew it was underhand.
Couldn't rest his conscience nagged him
no children with his spouse.
Practically one less worry for him to resolve
now his mistress was pregnant!
The usual cliche he still loved his wife
aware this situation was rife!
This didn't help sort out the mess he was in
what was the solution?
None of the answers were fundamentally good
but could not escape the truth.
It would break her heart to if he were to leave
who he never wanted to deceive!
With a deep breath he prepared for honesty
it had been a long time coming.
Prided himself in being an upstanding man
not noticing how low he'd sunk.
Seven thirty approached he heard Emma stir
he had to go and tell her!
With a burning guilt consuming his whole being
he made his way for judgement day!
The Foureyed Poet.
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 7:59 PM UTC
Science
*This is instant messaging in the smallest scale.
Two (or more) particles are separated in space.
An action performed on one is repeated by the other.
Once entwined, they are fundamentally connected.*
Romance
Two lovers that were torn apart
by fate, against them from the start.
They kept a secret close to heart,
a way to stay connected -- how smart!
*Wherever you and I may be
the stars are there for us to see.*
And so the lovers could agree:
to share the heavens, they were free.
Day or Night matters not,
it changes neither script nor plot.
A love that cannot be forgot
conquers any rational thought.
But as the days went by
fear gripped her.
She thought,
*It scares me that we'll never know
if one of us has stopped looking up.*
He knew this day would come,
and had responded in advance.
She could hear him say,
*If you look up, so will I.
If you stop, I will too.
It's spooky how we'll know,
but we will.
Fear not the coming of that day.
It may not even come, who can say?
Two souls entwined, though far away
are never truly led astray.*
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
More folk need to learn
About Cause and Effect
Respecting others
Is fundamentally what earns respect
My dad was raised Christian
Episcopalian
But left
No disrespect
He just wasn't convinced
So when I was a child
Our attendance at church was
sporadic
Sometimes a source of contention
And, usually, more pain than joy
The summer of 1969
Men walked on the Moon
And my parents
Split
My dad moved across town
I saw him one day each weekend
The most time we had ever spent together.
When I was twelve the earth moved
Sixty-four people died
And my father embraced Buddhism
And Buddhism embraced him
In a way nothing else ever had
and he learned moderation
Regaining his freedom
What got him was the Law of Causation
Cause and Effect
What goes around comes around
The Golden Rule
Unencumbered
With the baggage from his past
The philosophy of common sense
His pianist's artist's teacher's mind
Could comprehend
Grasp and hold for good
My twelve-year-old mouth
Would not be denied
And so I one day announced
That chanting
Was simply another form of prayer
A fact he acknowledged
reluctantly
but ultimately
with humor and grace
And was it my father's turn to Buddhism
That sparked my own
Journey into Spirit?
In 1972
With Godspell on the radio
I saw Jesus Christ Superstar
At the Universal Amphitheatre
Twice
And when my sister joked
"Let there be light"
And all the lights came on
Then she genuflected
Before taking her seat
It was only partly in jest
For there was reverence in the air
And a sense of the Eternal
The foundation of the story
Of every story
Cause and Effect
Later that year I was baptized
Before I realized
That no church held the key
For the key was within me
As it resides within us all
More folk need to learn
About Cause and Effect
We are here on earth to Love.
And respecting others
Is fundamentally what earns respect.
6/7 July 2005 Approx. 2 AM
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
"strange"
is declared
of person
who rationalizes
that matter if
non-human
non-animal
non-living
merits recognition
as being good
on it's own
but really
are we
the ultimate stewards
of absolute purpose?
what confirms our judgement
in deeming what deserves
to exist for it's own
and what belongs
to our means
and ours alone?
is it so fantastic
to suggest
that by some means of
indefiniteness
of intangible
comprehension
all matter
is fundamentally intertwined
in the sense
everything is stardust
created by
the universe's omnipotent hand?
don't you
ever get the feeling
inside of your conscious
too?
doesn't your awareness
ever whisper
as a sentience
you have an obligation
from some unspoken contract
signed before birth
to uphold the integrity
of everything
that inhabits this earth
whether or not
it thinks in the way you do?
for what purpose
we exist assembled into
abrupt profound togetherness
remains undecided
earth's fabrications
will survive
harmoniously
but
will you
do the same?
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
You!
Hey.
Good-day.
I presume.
Pessimistic flu.
Hypocritical to annoy.
The poor man's Rolls Royce
-is the pessimists one good choice.
They live with fragility,
-unwilling rigidity,
-and rarely tranquility.
Some weep at morbid memories,
-others at faithless fantasies,
-do they (or you?) see the precipices
-between the then, now and will be?
So what if you take a blue bruising back-slap
-for your lacking, a juicy reminding
-for regretful whining, lifetime timing,
-miraculous hopes of a future shining
-because you're wasting your time
-and not even minding!
So listen, or in duller cases, read;
-thoughts are naught but mares and dreams,
-man made mind transparencies
-will's the sum of immediacies
-like waiting in your station
-but you're deciding the destination
-your journey fundamentally what you make it
-it's simple but pessimists are complicated
-would you not trade freedom for a life you hated?
Pessimistic man, forget it
Ranting is silly - you just don't get it
You didn't see the golden beauty I bet it
Gold is copper to you anyway
What would Fibonacci say!
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
You managed to horribly fail every test
Yet you bore the honorary family crest
Until you abandoned me
As friendship isn't free
Leaving me incapacitated
In the infernal infirmary
You had only exacerbated
My own gory purgatory
But I want to see the end of the story
Though it's not going well
Carrier pigeons bring messages of your progress
By ******** on my head
I solve the problem
By staying in my bed
When all I see is red
From all the blood we bled
There was a deep connection
Crossed with a ****** infection
You were so fundamentally friendly
Was it just for the drugs we were blending?
Now I just have nightmares of your life ending
And ponder the value of the time we were spending
Your spirit animal is a coyote
Mine an exploding car
My fragile heart is imploding
From all the black tar
Coming from your lips like the needle
Rushing through my veins until I'm fetal
From your sedating voice
I heard an invading choice
Live alone or die alone
The dog gnawed the bone with it's clone
I just want to hear you're doing fine
So I can stop feeling so **** guilty
And I don't have to hear about you again
For my heart has been untamed
When I feel this constant pain
From a friendship down the drain
There is no peace to be attained
For the friendly fire in my brain
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC
Society has made a pact
On how we must act
People tell me to be a real man
But that seems like a stupid plan
Because every time a guy describes a real man
I hear the way they perceive themselves
A father
Says a real man takes care of his children
A fighter
Says a real man is a protector
We need to break this masculine projector
I used to think being a real man
Meant having a *****
But I'm not even sure about that anymore
How do we unlock
This malebox?
We'd have to leave our houses of hiding
And walk to the road that connects us to each other
But when the fashion is to fake
Our compassion starts to break
In a world
Where things are simple
We can't have a pimple
In a world
Fundamentally filled with maleboxes
We search for a loving locksmith
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 5:03 AM UTC
wieso es nicht gelang
wieso es gelang
als sie mich suchten zum liebemachen
als sie mich fanden zum liebemachen
wer von ihnen sang
wer von ihnen sang
sie kamen in scharen
mit freunden verwandten
all jene damen
all jene herren
ich weiß nicht wann
ich weiß nicht wo
doch ich weiß wie
ich weiß es wie
mir ist bewusst:
dichter und autoren werden
keine liebe füreinander hegen
(poet's note: my opinion on
the last three verses above has
fundamentally changed since i been
publishing here.)
liebe mich freund
liebe mich freundin
gib mir
schenk mir
suche mich
finde mich
ich habe mich auf der suche nämlich
versucht
kennst du, bruder, den weg?
den zugfahrplan?
die bedeutung der stahlstreben?
ich brauche eine antwort von
den damen
den herren
finde mich
suche mich
verschenke mich
vergib mir denn
ich schrieb über zivilisationen
von witterung und gier
witterung und gier
freunde sind zwischen dem glitzern
auf dem fluss versteckt wie perlen
sie aufzuspüren zwischen dem wittern
zwischen dem wittern
während des witterns
ich weiß nicht ob du weißt wovon
ich rede
ich rede
aber das ist in ordnung freund
aber das ist ok freundin
wir müssen bloß bruder
wir müssen bloß schwester
fragen
sie sitzen am gleis bei den zügen
sie sind immer da
wie der
“ICH-BIN-DA” aus der kinderbibel
meines sohnes
verstehst du das?
begreifst du das?
fühlst du mich?
viele afro-amerikaner fragen
“you feel me?” wenn sie
etwas ausdrücken und teilen wollen
ich liebe
diesen ausdruck
er zeugt von
etwas gutem, das manchen
menschen fehlt
auf der brust trage ich das tattoo
welches du abschriebst
in einer stunde aus
schatten
witterung
gier
ich wollte das
ich wollte dass
du zu mir kamst
zwischen den schatten
unter der gier
über der witterung
in einem augenblick des
“you feel me”
wie unsere häute glänzten
wie unsere augen glitzerten
wie unsere hände zitterten
wie wir…
ach komm!
was sage ich dir, freund
was sage ich dir, freundin
du weißt es doch dir
ist es bewusst denn du schriebst
mein tattoo ab in
ein buch mit perlweißen seiten
ein buch mit onyxschwarzen seiten
du bist perlweiß freund
du bist onyxschwarz freundin
du bist perlweiß freundin
du bist onyxschwarz freund
ich liebe habeshas
ich liebe äthiopien
ich liebe meine frau
ich liebe meinen sohn
ich liebe meine tochter
you feel me?
Dec 28, 2019
Dec 28, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
the pages of my notebook are probably more lovelorn than i'll ever be
idk
i never longed to be a tree burying my roots deep into Her soil, moaning
okay maybe i did because sometimes i only exist in crumpled up shreds of graphing paper between my awkward handwriting and
things i wish i'd have told you,
residing at the bottom of the ******* bin
(we're all writing about somebody)
fundamentally, i only exist between the blue lines and the margins
i want to be a tree again
Mother Earth is a **** (i mean, dang bruh, she's beautiful)
want my roots reaching as far into her as they'll go / want her attached to me in every way possible / want her in every way possible
i want to stay here forever
if i fall alone in the forest **** right i'll make a sound:
symphony of the lovelorn branches in C-minor except it's not really a symphony i'm just giving an impromptu solo to my ******* bin,
i have played the viola since 6th grade and
heartstrings since 7th
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
How can I
Falcon fly
While I die
In a web of lies
Where they brutalize
Us like flies
We must communicate
By connecting
To avoid rumors of hate
That are infecting
The non-inspecting
No problem detecting
Yet happiness expecting
Tyrant electing
Issue deflecting
Fascism respecting
Public that's perplexing
So the Internet should remain harmlessly neutral
Instead of adding to our economic Kama Sutra
Finding new ways to ***** each other
Like restricting access to information
So we won't hear the screams of our brothers
To the rich and powerful's elation
Dealing with this pseudo-fame
Feels like a burdensome shame
In order to listen to people
I have to hear them talk
But I fall into a deep hole
When their ignorance is written in chalk
Easily erased
But also easily traced
Yet not so easily faced
Until we're easily replaced
By the voices of our oppressors
Promising to alleviate the pressure
If we'll take a position that's lesser
And never ask them to be a confesser
Each electorate
Must be kept separate
And must be made desperate
So take away their voices
That should limit their choices
The rich want to be molding the clay
So they say to touch it you'll have to pay
I can't sit here and stand it
This particular predicament
That's beyond my bandwidth
Eating this **** sandwich
Given by a grand witch
So I add the name capitalist
To my ******* list
Which they seem to agree with
They rationalize you have to be an ******* to survive
They explain in business that's the only way to thrive
Yet get upset when I call them the biggest ******** alive
The Internet can do infinite good
Yet it is minimized and misunderstood
The faithless fathom
It as a nameless chasm
Made inside our rage filled cabins
But they refuse to see the connections
The healthy introspection
And historical corrections
They'd rather use deflection
Mentioning mundane memes
Or divisive digital teams
They see the shell
But not the turtle
They put us in hell
With a data girdle
Everybody has the same capability to add to the Internet
So they should have equal capacity to use the Internet
Sometimes our economic systems make us act counterintuitively
To what is fundamentally needed by our species
Something humanity has never had before
A comprehensive brain that can connect and inform us all
We've seen money corrupt the minds of humans
Let's not let it corrupt the mind of humanity
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
I spend.
I drink.
I rationalize.
I think.
No filter.
I speak.
Hypocrite.
I leak.
Overdrive.
Can’t stop.
Socialize.
I shop.
Mentality.
No breaks.
Try to heal.
I ache.
Pray.
For sanity.
Vanish.
Vanity.
Love.
Conditions.
Strive.
Submission.
All is fine.
Squander.
Why?
I wonder.
Stand up.
I pledge.
Not worth the fight.
Allege.
Drained.
Mentally.
Stained.
Fundamentally.
Saved.
Eternal.
Grateful.
External.
Unchanging.
All praise.
Loved.
Unfazed.
Mar 2, 2021
Mar 2, 2021 at 7:50 PM UTC
I think what hurts the most
is that you are so deserving of love
and I wanted nothing more than to give it to you.
But you did not want it from me...Why?
It is in that moment, I am 8 years old again, and I am shouting
//WHY NOT ME?! WHY WAS I NOT ENOUGH?!//
I have so much love for you that it makes me ache.
It makes me angry. It traps me like an animal in a cage.
Why don't you want it?
Was I too willing?
Too honest?
Or fundamentally, am I just not enough?
Has this all just been a reminder that no one really wants my love? That they settle, if only temporarily, until someone better comes along and they no longer need this placeholder.
How was it so simple and so easy to pretend?
Sure, you never said the words, but your lips pressed against my forehead - your fingers interlocked with mine - we shared sorrows and dreams -
//WE WALKED YOUR CHILDHOOD NEIGHBORHOOD//
How can it be true that it was nothing?
How am I supposed to just forget and accept it?
How could you know me so intimately yet care so little?
How could you?
//OR MAYBE THE REAL QUESTION IS//
How am I still so dispensable after all this time?
Sep 10, 2023
Sep 10, 2023 at 4:06 AM UTC
among milkweeds and thistles,
on rocks and scraps of metal that tear our clothes,
in a mock lacking more than ivy,
but plenty of barbed wire,
the game is clean. unadulterated.
the slowest five seconds
birthed via a fundamentally sound
thing of beauty.
hands back, the other way.
ah the sweet spot.
we conjure trajectory: wind, speed. geometry.
run away!
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 17, 2011 at 1:04 AM UTC
I’ve been busking about since young and fair
The atmosphere from onlookers, like skating on thin air
So unconventional, prior to the old smacking ways
That’s how I’d spend my entire waking days
Melodic riffs, dancing over bass lines
Harmonising daily, to some lonesome feeling ballads
Playing finger-style guitar, without any speeding **** hazards
Along the boardwalks of Venice Beach
In unlikely places, that you’d ever encounter or reach
A folksy blues musician, you can’t wait to hear
Independent, from a money-making machine, that’s so clear
A young black musician, singing ‘bout life’s rights and wrongs
With an aching intimacy, strings are strummed, to original songs
The overall effect is something like a blend
Of other musicians, with a depth and subtlety
More suited to the stage, than a street with a dead end
While the busking experience is fundamentally a freedom, luckily
Still taking a fading, battery-powered amp, with heaps of torque
Along with a flattop, down to the busy LA boardwalk
I think the best thing you learn from being downtown
Is how to be really optimistic, while still being on your own
Busking was like practicing with a metronome
It started pulling on a few chords, like not ever knowing a safe home
Then, thoughts of ones life coming to an end, my tick-tock time
Then, I go back to playing a song, people tossing me, a silver dime
I imagine, how it would sound, playing along with four in a band
I’ve never really been dealt, a very good poker hand
Trying to re-create myself, like an over paid, auto tuned, music star
Well, as much as I could, with just a worn out, acoustic guitar
They say, I picked up the guitar at seven
At first trying to play lap style, just keepin’ it even
Because, I couldn’t reach across my scar torn body
Early childhood lessons, gave me a foundation in blues
After that, I wasn’t taught nothin’ by nobody
I just kept playing like that, what did I have to lose
I could learn by ear, until I heard the rings at the checkout
It would take a while, but I’d figure it out, what they were all talking
about.
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 8:30 AM UTC
I'm afraid that if I die
People wont know things only I know
Like how N likes their carrots
Or how L loves her dad
Only I know this, like this
Of course others know some of this too, some of the time
But no one
Not one single person knows that you
You two
Are perfect
I mean this literally
I was gifted this knowledge when you were born
I know this viscerally, like this.
Or that you're beautiful in ways that make me hate words
In ways that render language hollow, meaningless, obscene
I am not being dramatic.
And also that you are good
By which I mean loveable
Like very and always
Fundamentally, inherently
This is not something you can ever change even though you'll probably try
And you might convince other people
Maybe even your dad, or your therapist, or your lover, or yourself
But you'll never convince me
I don't know why
I just know this
And I need you to know this too
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 12:53 AM UTC
So what do I think,
When wandering through
The hordes of armoured advice
That is offered in chains
Of expectation
That can close like a vice?
If they go to war
When you ignore
Their oh-so-nice
Advice,
It’s no advise at all,
But an order, a command,
A carefully concealed demand.
You can listen to it, sure,
But I’d sooner bed
the enemy.
Advise should be a gift,
Nothing taken, only this:
Remember what the Cat said,
“If they were right, I’d agree,
It’s them they know, not me”,
A fundamentally
Self-serving
philosophy.
Isn’t that the point?
Or do our friends think
We’re no longer free?
Keep your own council,
And leave my wars
To me.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC
fornicate
and lay back
asleep against the cold steel
heal your wounds with fire
limes are burning
lemons yearning
his fruit is turning into wine
mindless meditators
mediating madness
fundamentally flawed
raw and cored like apples
and hone(st)y
posthumously imbibed
nominal anomalies
rusted tire chains
as thunder complains
of its own ignominy
eyes awaken
lands are taken
and what's far worse
is that we have
all lost our voices
demanding silence
stem-cells signal sentences
denser than a dozen dollar bills
dancing on a pinhead
reprimand and then repeat again
the end is near
feet in fear move slowly
are you impressionable my dear
a glimpse of eternity
and your hair turned white as snow
suppress emotion
keep composure
learn to control
your own will
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
As a child I did not know whether it was the act itself or the knowledge that I was the receptacle for malevolence and cruelty that made me so vulnerable. At first I thought it was God's punishment for something I had done. I took an inventory, desperately seeking the deed that triggered the retribution. But I could not identify a single act. Even my accumulated errors, transgressions and unkindness’s did not exact the cost. Then I understood: if I could not isolate a deed, or pattern of deeds, commanding the punishment, it must be me. It is not what I did. It is who I was...a fundamentally, intrinsically and irredeemably bad little girl. I negotiated my adolescence and early adulthood with the mathematical symbol for "less than" (<) attached.
I would like to be able to write that I am no longer negotiating my adulthood with the same mathematical symbol attached. But that would be a lie. It is pervasive. It is formidable. And if I do not keep it contained, I am so afraid it will be debilitating….I've been down that road a time or two. At times it has enveloped me, penetrating my pores and drowning everything essential and vital inside.
Undisturbed, it is docile, sated. But aroused by even the slightest hint of beauty or strength or grace it is a painful reminder that I am...somehow...contemptible...that I am still fundamentally, intrinsically and incorrigibly...what? Flawed, imperfect & bad? You may say, "But we are all flawed and imperfect. And our flaws and imperfections make us more interesting...more truly beautiful...more human." And perhaps you are right, but this inexorable deprivation makes me somehow subhuman... less than human...permanently broken. I am a receptacle for malice.
I skillfully deflect praise directed my way, an effort to soothe the inescapable conflict inside. Moderate praise induces a subtle twinge of embarrassment; more effusive praise incites the consuming and agonizing feeling that I am irreparably damaged, hopelessly broken. It has contaminated, compromised and diminished every accomplishment, soiled every success. People sometimes tell me that I am humble and that it is an admirable trait. But the modesty and humility they identify helps me to mask the mortification stirring inside. I have gotten so good at hiding it from others that I have nearly learned to conceal it even from myself.
At least that is what it feels like...right now.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
Out of concern I write.
Don't judge if am wrong or right.
Fundamentally, it is my right,
To address an I'll that is becoming a rite.
Many swell like foam,
Being pumped to boom
By needle or rather *****
But in reality that are just but fume.
Peer pressure is powerful witch.
But can only enchant you if you wish.
We are empowered to be the wizards of our life,
To make freewill choices devoid of strife.
Aunty, getting slim tea is now slim.
Brother, guys are sleeping in the gym.
Boss, your colleagues are booking for liposuction.
I still wonder why you guys are rushing liposyn injection.
Ladies with Bees made of silicon
Counting themselves among the slaying lexicon,
In negligence of the pains to reckon,
They do whatever it takes to be a beauty icon.
Smokers are liable to die young.
You ignores it as if it's written in ching-chong
Liposyn users are liable to kidney failure,
You ignore to prove your velour.
You are made from the best kit.
Don't risk it all for a ****
Stop thinking anticlockwise.
A word is enough for the wise.
Blessedinkz
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 12:44 AM UTC
you were fundamentally
burnt out.
you were a ******* human,
not a machine.
i didn’t blame you.
as humans
we rot from the inside out.
the marrow of our bones,
blackens,
and our hearts freeze over.
i didn’t blame you.
you were breathing at a pace
more rapid than the ticking of the clock
on a sunday night.
in between dry-heaves you told me
“i’ll be okay, i’ll be okay,
i’ll, be okay.”
i wanted to believe you, but
i didn’t blame you.
i think the sound of your voice
on a tuesday afternoon
is conclusively what kept me going.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
Why do poets insist on dwelling on Love?
What a futile, tragic endeavor, indeed.
The only thing, however,
more futile and truly tragic
is to believe that we ever really had a choice
in the matter.
Poets cannot help but to root around the subtle
and revel in the profound.
And Love seems to be the most natural
and confounding sickness around.
Its the most fundamentally complex
ailment we've found to date.
So continue to unravel
my dear friends
and pinpoint and storm about.
Carry on with the exploration
of the rawness, the disappointment,
the unmatched excitement and roaring self-doubt.
Keep prodding and analyzing
and let me know if you discover a way
to cure oneself of unwanted, unrequited love
and live without.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
In response to a Post by someone:
'Eckhart Tolle, after 27 years of acute depression, overcame this, in a state of bliss in ONE DAY. Is that possible?'
We are unhappy as we hold ourselves too seriously, too tightly, too selfishly, too judgementally.
In Zen and Taoism, we get rid of our ego, we don’t have fixated thinking, we accept life in all its facets—joy and sorrow, the pleasant and unpleasant—-we follow the flow of life and don’t fight against it. In our centred-ness, we hold our equilibrium in equanimity.
Ingredients making for happiness and sane living, in any culture, are fundamentally the same:
acceptance, kindness and compassion, love, generosity, simplicity, humility, patience, insight, forbearance, magnanimity, forgiveness, humour and in adoration of the transcendental, the divine and all that which is beautiful and life-enhancing.
This is a lifelong journey—we don’t need to lean on any person or their thinking.
ET has many critics, but also a huge following-
it shows the extent of existential angst of so many people in our anxious, restless and confused world.
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 12:07 AM UTC