Tag Archive | fear

Nigger Season

If I walk outside my house I may be shot dead
By some teen with a license which is his white skin.
It may be for no other reason than I’m black,
And a crime such as that is well worth an attack.
What can I do about my original sin?
Following this dark sequence is done with much dread.

But I have to go through it. I have not the choice
But to work out this puzzle witch fucks with the mind.
It’s not that I’m heartbroken. I’m now wide awake
To the hate that is due me. No hand may I shake
That is not mine in color. In this can I find
Some perverted assed reason for me to rejoice?

No I can’t. So, it’s best that I piss and move on.
Survival is a given until it is not.
I remain just as helpless as decades ago.
Civil rights was a pipe dream, and as the weeds grow
Hatred lingers and forces itself by gunshot.
‘Seems we’ll never live up to the manicured lawn.

The procession of seasons that nature provides
Is severely augmented by issues of race.
Responding to the gut punch, I find some relief.
And my role in the picture is that much more brief.
My death may be related to some lame court case.
That’s where I am. I now leave it up to my guides.

Unconditional Joy

Nov12

The big bang of conditions began long ago
With all time, space, and matter. Our humanity
Takes it to the next level. We give them the chance
To control how we feel in every circumstance.
If conditions are good then it’s easy to be
In a state of pure joy. The reverse isn’t so.

But to have no control over how I’m feeling
Is to give away personal power freely
To outside circumstances. In living this way
It is my sense of who I am that I betray.
Things must be damned near perfect before I can be
Happier in this moment. Heartache that must bring.

Do not turn on the TV whatever you do.
It will bring you a tidal wave of conditions.
News networks search the planet for things that they know
Will frighten and upset you. Continuous flow,
Dramatized and with music, the shit cycle runs
People’s schedules and spirits. Most haven’t a clue.

One must form an opinion when taking life in.
It’s the way we are programmed. Our psyches digest
All conditions they’re given. Do give it a break
For to indulge it too much would be a mistake.
Take the guidance of what your own spirit knows best.
There’s no time like the present for you to begin.

Missing Inaction

Sep27

When a white girl is missing, all are up in arms.
There are many resources expended to find
Every clue to her whereabouts. Amber alerts
Are broadcasted profusely, and the thing that hurts
Is that black and brown females are left far behind
In the blessing of God’s grace. Everyone it harms.

Every standard young white couple out on the trail
Is a thing of great value and such a fresh sight
Until something turns ugly. The man is believed,
And the woman’s whole take on things is misperceived.
If this couple were black, would the system be right?
One or both of them surely would end up in jail.

There’s no knee-to-the-neck justice for the white man.
He may bullshit his way into running scot free.
A fake twenty dollar bill is just not the same
As a white woman’s murder. Yet he bears no blame
Until things are so obvious for all to see.
Institutional racism is a dark plan.

To ask if there’s a problem with anything here
That is written or written of is but to jest.
My whole purpose in writing is to explore truth.
As we look to the future, it is in our youth
That the cycle be broken – not just not expressed.
We as humans can avoid a future austere.

Aster * Risk

Sep11

Everyone that I’ve ever know will hate my guts.
It’s a given. I don’t have to figure that out.
In the brief time that I may have left, I’m assured
That I will be the enemy. Those who’ve endured
My abuse will be thankful and gleefully shout
When I’m gone because I’m prone to driving folks nuts.

You do that to me also though. This quid pro squat
Leaves someone more shorthanded. This Risk with a face
Tries to mingle among the real thing and behave
In the ways of true stardom. No love can it crave.
Once The Risk is discovered, a quiet disgrace
Permeates like a wet fart that offends a lot.

In some ways I am like you colorful breeders,
But something fundamental is missing in me.
Clueless, I’ve sought a lifetime the answer to that.
Yet you normal ones know me, and this tit for tat
With the mind and emotions I play piss poorly.
In the game of relating, I’ve few cheerleaders.

So I’ll just keep on hiding amid you aster
Trying hard not to dis you inadvertently.
You and I spell disaster and should never meet.
I’m an old pissed off bastard who cannot be sweet
Anymore. It is bullshit as far as I see.
My true self is the one thing that I must master.

Pony Ride

Sep8

Things are dead at the clubhouse, or maybe it’s me….
In my desperation a big gamble I took.
Now that I’ve made the foolish decision, I’m stuck.
I’ve grown closer to some. To others, I’m a schmuck
With a streak of incompetence. I’m not a crook,
But I need to be watched now, and rather closely.

Any time of the month is condensed down to one
Interrogative moment as I sit alone
With my phones disconnected. I want no contact
With the world of the living. It’s lethal impact
Feels strangely like rejection by people unknown.
I can know not the scope of the damage I’ve done.

Physical are the symptoms. The tight cramping pain –
Intercellular pillows releasing life force
In the deepest parts of me – is what I endure.
Institutions remind me that I am impure.
My net worth, nonexistent, is now void of course
In a network of gossip and righteous disdain.

There’s a knot in my gut as I straddle this rope
That my feet have slipped off of. It’s jagged movement
Makes my gait somewhat fated to going around
And around as I rummage through my dark background.
I can choose to give honor to this day’s torment
Or to see things another way, guided by hope.

Underprivilege

Aug19

When I can’t find a nigger to shine my damned shoes
And my cold leather heart is the beat of remorse
For acceptance of coon ways in society,
What is wrong with this country I clearly can see.
We’ve a ship with a captain who’s steering off course.
I’m entitled to at least good drugs to abuse.

Niggers give me the willies. I just can’t allow
Their kind anywhere near me. I fear I’ll become
Inundated with liberal ideal perfume.
I’d prefer that my poor white brother not assume
That I’m black anywhere inside. Those nasty scum
Need to go back to somewhere somehow and right now.

I know that I’m a bigot. I’m proud to be one.
My maturity level makes that important
Along with the abuse of women and children.
Good old days were of silence. To have them again
Is a fervent fulfillment. No one says I can’t
Be the racist I want to be and have some fun.

Leadership we are made for no matter our style.
Jungle bunnies don’t govern. They just find a way
To make government programs to pamper the poor.
It would thrill me to no end to show one the door
To the darkness that is them. I’ll never betray
My supremacist outlook. We’re here to defile.

The Dance With Disaster

Jul18

Can the hell I’ve created be worse than the one
In the service of Satan? Is my world the same
As the one that I’m meant for, if it does exist?
If indeed I am not there, am I sorely missed?
My unnatural acting has caused me much shame.
Terrified of the tango, I feel it’s begun.

My true self is the partner who wears a disguise
To prevent me from knowing from where lessons come.
Knowing whence they came leads to the easy way out
Of experience needed. While flailing about
On the dance floor of life, I know not where I’m from,
Which, to my knowing partner, is not a surprise.

This is all about feeling the best that I can
Through the world of confusion and eminent doom.
Interaction consensual cannot dissolve.
The exchange of emotion can only evolve
To a worthy performance inside the ballroom.
Guidance comes through my partner. I don’t have to plan.

Chronic is such a topic as personal pain,
But I feel it’s my duty to get it all down
Where the whole world can see it and be entertained
Or enlightened. My purpose will have been attained
In the long run. I can’t dance while wearing a frown.
If I get myself through this, there’s so much to gain.

On The Brink Of Becoming

Jul8

Life gets pretty exciting as tightness gives way
To a lack of resistance. By one single thread
Does my wealth withered ego hang on to some thing
That will open the floodgates and easily bring
Tons of wealth headed for me. I’m sorely misled
By what life has to offer that I must obey.

Take your internet job search and stick it up where
Daylight never does enter. I’m not a damned slave.
I delight in my attitude being piss poor.
Suppose I interview you, you ignorant whore?
You are one third my age, and the way you behave
Is as if I’m some dipshit in need of a prayer.

“Get your sorry ass solvent, and pay your damned bills!”
Yes, I do get the message, but kindly fuck off.
Desperation is dangerous for all involved.
And the more I am fucked with, the less gets resolved.
I don’t feel like a creature that feeds from a trough.
I’ll avoid people judging me because it kills.

So, my phone remains unplugged. I’ll have no contact
With the world of disaster that I’ve created.
Well cocooned in my workspace, my value must grow.
I have asked for the universe, and I can know
What the world cannot tell me. I’ll rely instead
On belief in Becoming one who can attract.

Happiness Amid Horror

Jul8

I Exist. Don’t I know it! This heat is intense.
It consumes not my sorrow. It savers my soul.
Agony is what I know in this time and place.
I cannot keep my mind off the horror I face
Through confounded incompetence while on parole
From abysmal circumstance. Have I some defense?

I can see through the flames just as they see in me
Their reflection in pure light. They’re taken aback.
Unexpected behavior to them is obscene.
I did wake up this morning. The grass is still green.
And although I’m consumed with such feelings of lack,
I’ve a lot going for me. That much I can see.

Satisfaction and relief feel almost the same.
I have deactivated the resistant part
Of my vibration righteously. Now I’m intent
On that satisfied feeling. I can’t be hellbent
On a manifestation. What’s dear to my heart
Is that sense of alignment. It’s my only aim.

Getting into the Vortex is what rings my bell.
It’s the state where my passion for life can explode
Into wonderful feelings and brighter insights.
Can I then be more open to reaching new heights?
My existence in hell is a brief episode.
In the heart of abundance my true self does dwell.

A Spoonful Of Contrition

Jul6

I must know that I’m worthy although I’ve done wrong.
For my soul, I seek justice, but I must live on
So that I suffer vividly in solitude.
All who own me know they have the right to intrude
Upon my conscience all through the night until dawn.
My regret become karmic is where I belong.

All must seek retribution for what I have done.
As my life caves in on me, all that I should know
Is that some small redemption exists for this soul.
I don’t ask that the balance of my life be whole
But allow me the substance to pay what I owe
Otherwise, my existence is much worse than none.

But I can’t get there from here. I know for a fact
That I must have the feeling before conditions
Start to manifest for me. My sorrow blocks it.
How do I balance karma if I’m poorly fit
To function as a human among sacred ones
Who provide my life lessons with relative tact?

Universe, please connect me to all I deserve.
I have no fear in asking; just guide me somehow.
With my head hung in sorrow, intense is my shame.
I hate that I have no one but myself to blame.
Can the Law Of Attraction still let me allow?
Or am I just a screwed one with colossal nerve?

Though I can be facetious in this agony
The damned knot in the stomach is losing its voice.
If it’s silenced completely, is my life ended?
Or will I find relief from existential dread?
Seeing myself as worthy is my only choice.
I cannot turn by back on deciding to be.

With The Ease Of Disease

Jun26

The Department of Justice is a biosphere.
It functions as a system for keeping control
Of its body’s behaviors. It does a fine job
Until it’s taken over by creatures who rob
The system of integrity. Now it’s not whole
And things don’t seem as transparent as they appear.

The new Attorney General has a huge task –
To clean up what’s been dirtied over many years.
Focusing his attention on most urgent things,
Like sponsored insurrection and mass hatred, brings
Out of focus the fabric that feeds on our fears.
Would a quick, thorough cleansing be too much to ask?

Give this man time to settle and get his feet wet.
We know that he’s a player on the winning team.
Justice matters to everyone – not just ‘The Law.’
Our frail democracy is one not without flaw.
What occurs now is not the American Dream…
At least not for the many. Indeed it’s a threat.

In the midst of a civil war, a hope and prayer
Is the least one can offer to powers that be
Of the kind for evolving. “We’ll get there some day,”
Uttered nervously from me is trite, in a way.
However, it prepares me to set myself free
Of the matter completely so that I won’t share.

Out On A Limb

Jun18

Not alone in the forest am I this fine day.
There are others who, like me, are in grave distress.
No one knows of our troubles. Indeed, if they did
We poor souls would do best to keep our faces hid
From the judgment of others. I need not transgress
Any further. Within my own hell I shall stay.

My guts tell me I’m worthless. Sometimes I agree
Just to keep them performing their daily function.
When they find that I think that I’m someone worthwhile,
They will seize up and lock down and become hostile.
With an act all their own, they’re another ‘someone’
Who I must stay away from and most completely.

As I take time to write this, it is an escape
And a respite from reasoning what cannot be
Figured out in my present state which is too ill
To deal with what’s not happening. It ain’t no thrill,
But by getting it out of myself, I can see
From a much better angle. I’m not in bad shape.

Life Review I am going through as it occurs.
Much I’ll get through while living my time remaining.
I should now pay attention so I don’t forget
All that I’ve done to others that I do regret.
There’s a spiritual reason for suffering.
It’s to work off the karma the ego deters.

Cave In

Jun17

There cannot be a pain worse than surmounting debt.
As the tonnage increases it takes up more space
In the places my guts were before their seizure.
Should I act out in panic, more harm I’d endure.
By my credit score I am consumed in disgrace.
Every phone call or message I’ll take as a threat.

No wonder I’m so weary and pissed of a lot.
Energy that I would have for creating things
Is diverted to struggle finding strategies
To reverse severe bleeding through tense arteries.
Embarrassed that I cling on to life’s apron strings,
A fine candidate for employment I am not.

Life is caving in on me. There is no escape
Short of something most tragic or a miracle
Like a change in perception so that I will hear
The exact steps I must take to mitigate fear
And the guidance to exit my fecal canal.
I’m a far cry from being in much better shape.

If I don’t find a hustle or some employment
In the next few days, things will get way out of hand.
And I don’t have an answer, nor am I afraid.
I must pay for the foolish decisions I’ve made.
May it cost me my life. That would be more than grand.
In survival, my task is to learn to repent.

Urban Renewal

Jun13

Ancient rubble metallic and dark under light
Of a motionless fake moon amid the night sky
Is obliged to be taken control of by man,
Since it’s all that it’s known since the big lie began –
Not the one most apparent too many deny
But the one built in Eden through programming sleight.

The first man to give birth was also the first man?
Take that pill with a grain of saltpeter and die!
Body parts like the trick rib can only exist
In the mind of a story tale maker. Dismissed
Is all sense that is common. It’s the reason why
Men can do what they want to. God says that they can.

First, throw out the old rule book. Then, start a new game
With a storyline truer to life and nature.
But will we ever get to that point on our own
When the twisting of truth into evil is known
To be strong and effective in tainting what’s pure?
What has been done to humanity is a shame.

Metal can be conductive if of the right kind.
All the rest is the substrate of common belief –
Each of us a discrete component built within
The electronic intelligence of our sin.
Lack of truth in the circuitry causes much grief.
It’s perhaps the sole reason folks become maligned.

About Sleep

Jun13

An addiction to sleeping…? Why not a disease,,,
To be unconscious one third the time I am here
Should be called my existence? It fits like a glove.
In my dreams, like a free bird, I zoom out above
Where I can’t when I’m wide awake in constant fear
As my life quickly wastes away and no one sees.

It’s at worst therapeutic. The cycle of sleep
Has a three quarter rhythm like some poetry.
It’s the nearest escape hatch without absolute
Departure from the physical. Rather acute
Is my life situation. Where I need to be
Is far off from where I am, so my soul does weep.

Meditation and sleeping are somewhat the same.
They both bring much relief from the troubles at hand.
As each is made available, there is my chance
To remember that I am not my circumstance.
Terminal, though it seems, may it help me expand
Far beyond a solution to mitigate shame.

I rely now on guidance. I’m on cruise control.
Things I do throughout my day I don’t think about.
Mindfully automatic with each daily task
With no judgment from me, I do most humbly ask
That I live through my hell with no measure of doubt
That redemption is possible for my damned soul.

Healthy sleep is wellbeing of body and mind.
I have more energy, and my mood can remain
At a workable level. If I were ok –
Like no one on this earth – I’d have nothing to say.
I exist to express things, and it keeps me sane
And conscious of the moments when I’ve been unkind.

So… Live Your Life

Apr24

Who whispers the answers to what I haven’t asked,
Knowing that I seek guidance along my own way?
If my way is my own, should I not be the one
To reply to my questions? In doubt I must shun
Solutions I come up with each and every day.
I know not what I’m doing. This is my forecast.

“Live your life so that fear of death never enters
Your brave heart or your spirit. Live and beautify
All the things in your life. Respect all whom you meet.
Love your life. Be of service. Ignore the drumbeat
That is harsh and discordant, and never deny
Your alignment with your truth, as spirit prefers.

Find your joy and be grateful for all that you’ve got.
Gratitude is the attitude worthy of grace
To help you get through tough times with relative ease.
Grovel not to another as if their feces
Is of glorified essence. Self-pride do embrace.
If you cannot feel grateful, you suffer a lot.

You will sing like a hero your going home song
And not long for more time to relive what has passed
In a different way. The regretful one weeps
For the loss of the dying self. The wise one keeps
In the heart memories of well-challenged contrast.
Know that life is a blessing that doesn’t last long.”

When I Have Fear

Apr11

I have fear unbecoming a creature of God
That I still may have many years left to endure
Bloody hell on this wretched earth. My humanness
Is a curse – not a blessing. I know not success
To be worth my pursuing it. Quite insecure
Is the thin thread I dangle from. This life is flawed.

When I fear that my thinking will go on this way
To the point of considering ways to check out…
And when some reassurance that I here belong
Having made life a failure by being so wrong
In relating to rightness does not come about
It’s doubtful I’ll be here by the end of the day.

When my guts choke what feeds them perpetually
And their out of phase rhythm defies natures role…
When complaining to doctors leads to the dead end –
Absolute like a brick wall, deeper I descend
To that dark, choking space. I’m not one to console.
If God would deem it worthy, I would cease to be.

Thought becomes intervention. The things that I’ve tried
And failed at most horrendously are stepping stones.
“You just need to hang in there…” That’s so God Damned trite,
But this prison has strange rules that I cannot fight.
These insults are acceptable to my weak bones.
With my life’s final chapter I am satisfied.

No Fear

Mar4

(A Time/Place Appropriate Interpretation Of
“Where The Mind Is Without Fear” by Rabindranath Tagore)

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held
High by nature and posture for citizens all
Is a place of contentment, freedom to exist
In a state that is healthy with strength to resist
Governmental dementia, and all one would call
Paradise in a nutshell most unparalleled.

It is where knowledge is free for rich and for poor –
Whose McJobs, two or three, barely do make ends meet.
All people have the right to good education.
Privilege is a blessing upon everyone.
Grand Old People care not if we’re left in the street.
To all citizens it should be an open door.

What breaks us into fragments is easily seen.
Things like social classes, religion, color, creed,
And so on toward infinity, tear us apart.
There will always be those who are bitter of heart.
With our hate-spangled history, how we proceed
Leaves one doubtful that closure will wipe the slate clean.

Words come out from the depth of the truth in the space
Where my countrymen speak what they feel honestly.
Truthfulness is a virtue, and hypocrites are
Not guided by clear thinking. The right will go far
To induce insurrection. The world that they see
Is a cruel one divided by gender and race.

Ever-Widening thought and action are called for.
With mentality shallow yet tightly focused,
One has lost what is human. The heart has grown cold.
The enrichment of thinking that’s not mind-controlled
Both broadens horizons and allows all to trust
In divine intercession amid civil war.

No More Guilt

Feb18

Why am I in the shadows nowhere to be found
By the people I owe and to those I’ve done wrong?
Hidden well in my darkness, no one keeps in touch
With my world or my person. I ruminate much
On my defects of character which does prolong
The dark night of my soul. It’s a ship run aground.

This is rather depressing. Who tells me that I
Am an unworthy creature whose frequent misdeeds
And mistakes relegate me to those of a class
That can have no redemption nor half empty glass?
If I swallow that bullshit I’m stuck in the weeds
In a Twilight Zone episode hard to deny.

I can say that I’m human. It’s not a cop out.
I can reap what I’ve sown now, let go, and move on.
The emotion of guilt is destructive. It will,
If it ain’t dealt with initially, even kill.
Rather I intend fully to see the next dawn.
That my life can be salvaged I have not a doubt.

People don’t learn a thing if they don’t make mistakes.
Everyone is a screw-up at times in some way.
Insecurity laden, my comparisons
Are but useless and futile, except for the ones
That uplift and propel me through my useful day.
I deserve this, as all do, along with fair shakes.

Breaking Free From Anxiety And Fear

Dec22

This world is full of sorrow, and mine is surreal.
There’s no one to support me in my time of need
Of a proper solution to my tangled mess.
Had I someone to talk to I’d freely confess
That I am rather hopeless. My case I would plead,
But I am so ashamed of the way that I feel.

Meditation eludes me. My life’s twists and turns
Make me fearful and anxious. My letting it be
Seems to make it grow bigger. Darkness has a grip
On my soul, of which I claim complete ownership.
If I don’t find an answer that satisfies me,
Then I may be an object the devil discerns.

Attention must be focused, when problems arise,
On the fact of their presence, then detach from it.
Examine carefully all the negative talk
That the pain body thrives on. Indeed, it will balk
At the notion of presence and will throw a fit
In defense of disaster with which it allies.

Fear is of a low frequency. It puts the nerves
In the rhythm of panic. While identified
With the thoughts that create it, I am not aware
That I’m safe in the moment and that I must care
That awareness and presence cannot be denied.
It’s a gift that every living creature deserves.

Well immersed in the problem, must I feel the pain
That the body responds to imagined or real?
Fight or flight is the trigger created by thought.
An awakening comes when this moment is caught.
What is real and the story can both make me feel
Much the same, so from drama I’m best to abstain.

Greed

Nov24

In the life of pure spirit no need has the soul
To provide for its sustenance. Life is a breeze.
There’s no concept of distance or speed as is here
Where all substance is heavy and laden with fear.
All can manifest instantly what e’er they please.
There’s no need to find oneself because one is whole.

From that mystical paradise all enter earth
With subconscious impressions and faint memory
That will dissipate slowly in early childhood.
By the time we’re adults it is well understood
That this world is a harsh one and that we must be
Rational in our outlook to manage our birth.

We’re preprogrammed for pleasure. Our feeling sublime
In ourselves and with others comes naturally.
But in this world, resistance to all that feels great
Is weaved into the fabric defining this state
Of a learning existence where nothing is free
But the spirit within things that take up our time.

Student souls become weary and lost in their ways
Of achieving their balance. A feeling of lack
Overwhelms their sensations. The instinct to kill
We have learned from the animals, but with free will
That is guided by spirit, all can stay on track
And find peace and abundance through most of our days.

Unmasking The Face Of Fear

Oct31

Do I fear the unmasking? What horror awaits
That I should know is coming by guilt that I feel
At the pit of my gut? Why this sense of surprise
That I have something coming? I wear a disguise
That is known as the ego. It is grossly real.
I cannot feel wholehearted when it dominates.

The ego is a force field that works like a lens.
It reflects what is inside outward but with flaws.
Our perceptions are finite. We use them to deal
With this rigid reality, damned to conceal
All that is not of this world and bound by its laws.
When the ego dies, that is the moment life ends.

Do I fear my undoing or fumbling head on
To a possible train wreck, or living in grace
Among those who I equal? What can penetrate
What I sense as my force field can cause me to hate.
What reflects back into me in time I will face.
The fear will cease completely when the mask is gone.

The Magic Realist

A Poet's Path

Tag Archive | fear

Nigger Season