Tag Archive | pain

One Of Us

The Penalty Of Belonging

“What’s Your Social?”, it’s asked, and there is a response.
Everyone knows the drill and will play by the rules.
‘Your Social’ is unique enough to cast a spell
On the physical consciousness. It does this well
It’s expected that all behave like molecules
That are totally driven by their needs and wants.

It’s a personal question, so one must take care
Not to disclose the puzzle piece of the heartbeat
To unauthorized persons. No one wonders why
Nor is there any problem. By law all comply.
Can one mess with a system that cannot be beat?
Anyone thinking they can had better beware.

One Of Us or of any is meant to be one
Of all ones to be thought of… meaning everything
From the one who is singular to all there are.
One need not know their oneness by looking too far
Into rational thought and literal meaning.
The conceptual mantra can get a lot done.

It’s no mark of acceptance – just of inclusion
Within orders created by one’s circumstance.
To be known as One Of Us feels like I belong
To something that has meaning. All that I’ve done wrong
Tells me strongly that I will get no second chance
To behave in a better way with everyone.

Hope?

The Fuel Of Continuance

Almost all of my life I’ve been mentally ill.
This profound revelation comes at a late stage.
I have made poor decisions that caused harm and grief.
In a fit of psychosis beyond my belief,
I have severed my roots. I am left to engage
In extreme self-analysis. It is no thrill.

I’m face down in my own crap, and my, what a mess.
It would take me a lifetime to straighten things out.
But I’ve already screwed up this life as it be.
Can I find a solution somewhere inside me?
Quickly I was approaching the terminal doubt…
That I should not have been born. I feel less than less.

What I wanted my whole life I already had…
Loving parents, a fine home, and family life.
I flushed that down the toilet. Now, having done so,
I am haunted by thoughts of where my soul might go,
But at least I’d not be here to cause people strife.
I recall only times when I’ve made people sad.

My big plan is to clean up the big mess I’ve made.
With the help of my God I can get this thing done.
I shall pay off my huge debts and own property
Through the special talents God bestowed upon me.
All that I ever wanted was to be someone
Who is loving, and I am still on that crusade.

The Machine

Interdependent Fragility

Critical is the nature of all that is real.
Life maintained is a symphony of submission
To process… it’s profundity, having known hell.
Painfully, my own story is pleasant to tell.
The revealed Magic Realist and I are one.
Intertwined human troubles I rightly must feel.

Easily I am grateful now that the world view
I allow to possess me with its circuitry.
Already with my deep guilt that I cannot hide,
Ignorance of reality, never implied,
Yet the interdependence is made part of me.
I digest the late wake up call. Can it get through?

Never mind a life crisis to forecast the end
Of a thing become tangled in self-awareness.
Knowing now its fragility, I taste respect.
The finite probability has the effect
Of defining the issues I need to address.
This complex human puzzle I must comprehend.

Surrender this old body to forces divine.
The coming machine cycle is due to occur.
The grand clock of existence is mine to express
Through the real me evolving. I can’t go for less
Than the grace necessary to be as it were
In eternal alignment with all that is mine.

Letting Go

Profound Releasing

…Rest, Dub-Lub… Rest, Dub-Lub… Rest, Dub-Lub… Rest, Dub-Lub…
The heartbeat is a rhythm that moves life along
As the intimate drummer becomes different
In each moment of being. To disorient
Is the mission of Satan, the master of wrong.
Any verse can provide a spiritual scrub.

There’s so much information. It floods consciousness
Through the integral networks of society.
I must know what is going on, and I must feel.
Images of the horror and torment are real.
Nervous systems, extended by technology,
Are more interconnected. Has there been progress?

The unthinkable misfortune brought to you by
Your efficient news network can eat at your soul.
Take as much as you can of it, then let it go.
Your psyche will not be haunted by its shadow.
There are some things over which we have no control.
The frustration and sorrow are hard to deny.

I can be with the feeling and not deny it.
I can put my attention on just the feeling
Without thinking about where the feeling comes from…
Or about anything. Do not beat any drum
That will start thought momentum. Just by allowing
The feeling without resisting, I can stay fit.

There’s Nothing Ahead

Slow Down

Lovers think that they are looking for each other
But there is only one search. It is wandering
This world is wandering that, both inside of one
Transparent the sky. In here, as all said is done
There’s no dogma or heresy and not a thing
On the long road to nowhere on earth as it were.

The miracle of Jesus is himself, not what
He said or did about the future. So forget
The future. I would worship someone who could do
Only that but I fear that there are but a few
Who can get through the journey without some regret.
Would it be much the wiser to temper one’s strut?

On the way you may want to look back, or may not
But if you can say truly “There’s noting ahead,”
There will be nothing there. Stretch your arms and take hold

Of the cloth of your clothes with both hands. Pain is gold
And itself is the cure for it. Live and break bread.
This moment is the only one that can be sought.

Good and bad are mixed. If you do not have them both
Then you don’t belong with us. Just where you belong
Is of your own creation. When one of us gets
Lost, is not here, there is not a call for regrets.
That one must be inside us healthy, whole, and strong.
There’s no place like that anywhere. Thus is our growth.

The Superior Race?

Problematic Supremacy

Don’t believe what your eyes see. This man is supreme
Just because of his white skin and powerful genes.
As he looks right straight past you with only one eye
One can know he means business. He’s willing to try
To take over the country by violent means
Because he bears the right to go to the extreme.

Just what oath are you keeping, you ignorant fool?
…The one that says stupidity shall ever reign?
Then you’re making good progress but only for you.
You can shoot your damned eye out. What else can you do?
As a gun safety instructor you draw disdain.
May your oath keeping cohorts sign up for your school.

Those who preach white supremacy can you explain
How that concept can settle in your vacant minds
And then grow into hatred beyond all belief?
Why is there no other race causing so much grief?
Take a look at your own race with trash of all kinds.
If you idolize this jerk you’re truly insane.

I was given the lowdown some decades ago
From a jerk with a hair of hatred up his ass.
He warned me there’d be bloodshed. The coming race war
Is a threat that is possible if we ignore
The raw truth of the matter. This bitter impasse
Leaves us ever divided and steeped in our woe.

Feminine Drought

The Malignant Masculine

To be one with the contrast that is part of me…
Is it my sin to think that we all can be one?
Christ knew nothing of hatred. He knew only love.
Why do modern day Christians have every kind of
Nasty defect of character under the sun?
How are those of true faith so not able to see?

It’s all been documented throughout history
How the hatred of women and Christian values
Have been forced into marriage. The resultant child
Is a sick ideology where the reviled
Are half the congregation of whom they accuse
Of bringing sin to mankind originally.

The far right are the hypocrites. Like the Nazis
Who believed in male dominance, republicans
Have become the new billboard to promulgate hate.
Religion is a power tool used to berate
Anything that is not male or white, and their plans
Are to subjugate nonwhites and women with ease.

It is the patriarchal biblical word view
That has become the enemy of humankind.
We know Eve was created as an afterthought.
Think of that implication! The mindset is fraught
With existential illogic. Fear the sick mind
That may be of your neighbor who just may hate you.

Do not covet your neighbor’s wife, ox, or donkey,
Or anything of value that some man may own.
Women should not have authority over man.

This bullshit from the bible is where it began.
This is why we’re psychotic and violence prone.
Our survival as one race may not come to be.

The Eighth Deadly Sin

The Rampage of Self-Loathing

If I could deal with my sins, I’d not need to write.
Should I count them a blessing for creative work?
And is my darkest nature subject to concern
Of a soul who would read me? My will is to learn
What it is that upsets me. I’ve gone full berserk
Throughout most of my living. It’s been a huge fight.

There are now seven deadly ones. Once there were eight.
Back in times medieval the big change was made
Perhaps due to aesthetics, Seven is more pure
And more easily remembered. One can be sure
That the eighth must have gotten people so afraid
That they dropped it completely to safeguard their fate.

All of them wrapped into one is what I’ve become
Now that I as an old man review my sick life.
In my weakness I’m not the risk I was before.
It’s a blessing that I can’t abuse anymore.
It’s no wonder I experience so much strife.
I’m a step below the level of lowlife scum.

To Despond is the eighth sin. It’s now a disease
That is treated with counseling – not the preacher.
An outlook that is hopeless and marked by despair,
Chronic gloom, and depression is the lack of care
I have given to goodness. I am a creature
Who, in life’s recollection, is brought to its knees.

Uncivil Mitosis

Painful Growth

Red and Blue come together to form a union
And escape from the tyranny of monarchy.
One nation undivided with territories
With their own constitutions and racial disease
Has remained but a battlefield. Lord have mercy
On this land most bedeviled by contradiction.

I would not have thought things could turn out quite this way.
The illusion of brotherly love was intense.
Psychedelic were those days of Reverend King.
Now, the dream of America is not a thing
That resembles inclusiveness. Does it make sense
That a part of society serves as its prey?

Liberals and conservatives, blue folk and red…
The confederate and union troops on the field
Also make up the government and places high.
Blatancy is becoming. Here’s the reason why.
It is only through battle that we become healed
So that we can remember and honor our dead.

As it has been it will be. No change can occur
But the ongoing process of cell division
And the up and down cycles of racial hatred
Is something that I’ll ponder perhaps ‘til I’m dead.
I alone have the right to make the decision
That allows for my freedom as I would prefer.

Pro-Life?

The Viral Hypocracy

Secession from the Union is sadly the role
Of the people in leadership in certain states.
Racism is an ice cold determination.
Ruthlessly the psychosis will never be done.
It matters not the path nor danger that awaits.
Every kind of rebellion is locked in the soul.

Which states will lead the nation in counting their dead?
With extreme desperation it is a contest
To placate the defiant ignorant to know
But to curse everything about the status quo.
The contempt for authority that is expressed
Is sufficient to keep all from moving ahead.

Mostly victims are children in these sick places
Where the spread of the virus increases by day.
Hospitalized children is specific red states
Are the highest reported. The leader who hates
Is in fact the worse killer. If he has his way
The bug will only kill those of certain races.

Gut wrenching are the stories that pour out of hell.
One must deal with intolerance to common sense
And attraction to living instead of disease.
What happens when the nation is brought to its knees?
Would the scourge of hypocrisy be as immense?
It takes more than a vaccine to make people well.

Nigger Season

The Benefits Of Civil War

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.

Missing Inaction

The Norm Of Inequality

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

A Perceivably Precarious Pickle

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

Dark Cycle

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.

Are Other People Real?

The Plasticity Apparent

This question that I must ask of my consciousness,
Wide awake and with focus upon humankind,
May be moot to most others who would call insane
Anyone who would ask it. Within their disdain
Is the key to the answer. Relief may I find
In engaging my asking, but not to excess.

People never are as I perceive them to be.
 Each of us wants to mold into specific shape
What we know through the senses. So, reality
Is just how I perceive it. And this I do see
As a fact most confounding. Is there an escape
From the pit of inscrutable uncertainty?

When connected to spirit, I see through the eyes
Of the source of all of us. The realer they are
They may rise to the image I see as their best.
They’re as real as I make them. This begs to suggest
That the eye that beholds others is just as far
From the truth, as imagined. My, what a surprise!

Chains of Pain are created through my observing
What I don’t care to look at, then adding to it
Some more doubt and confusion plus firm evidence
Of a flaw in the fabric of my existence.
The eye of the beholder sees what it sees fit
To be worthy and justified in its being.

Empathy And Compassion

The Subtle Difference

True compassion is looking clearly at someone
Through the eyes of their better self while maintaining
One’s own sense of wellbeing. It’s good that we care
For how others are doing. Most folks are aware
Of the unending plight of human suffering
And would offer their help if something could be done.

Empathy is the understanding and sharing
Of the feelings of others. It falls somewhat short
Of the call to right action. One senses the pain
In the other, but pity is offered in vain.
This is certainly not conducive to support.
Negative connotations can empathy bring.

There are kindhearted people who can become prey
To those who’ve become needy professionally.
They’ve perfected the fine art of drawing folks in
To their confounding drama that makes the head spin.
One must exercise caution in giving freely
Of oneself in this real world in which we all play.

I can’t ignore the needy because I am one
Not through my better judgment does my growth occur.
Nonetheless, I am wealthy for all that I learn.
Need I feel like the object of someone’s concern
When I can live the life that I truly prefer?
I now know of compassion. New life is begun.

Cave In

Inner Escape From Outer Turmoil

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.

Pain

The Gravitational Inverse Of Pleasure

With my best understanding enclosed in a shell,
My pain is but its breaking. Even as the stone
Of the fruit must break so its heart may see the sun,
It must know pain. This is true of most everyone.
My heart, if kept in wonder by all that I’m shown
By my life’s daily miracles, in joy must dwell.

My pain is no less wonderous than is my joy.
My heart has its own seasons, and I must accept
Them as I do the same passing over my fields.
I embrace barren times as those bringing high yields.
I observe in serenity. No pain is kept
In the unconscious darkness where it may destroy.

Much of my pain is self-chosen. The physician
Within offers the bitter potion that will heal
My sick self through my winters of grief. I must trust
In the good doctor’s wisdom that will readjust.
Though in silent tranquility through my ordeal,
I partake of the remedy as the best plan.

His hand, though hard and heavy, I know beyond doubt,
Is guided by the tender hand of the unseen.
And the cup that he brings, though my lips it will burn,
Has been fashioned from clay. From the potter I learn
That it’s moistened with his sacred tears. My routine
Fluctuates as my mood does, but I’m not freaked out.

Overcoming Suffering

Mostly a Matter of Mind

Constant shots of I Love You direct to the head
Where the heart is an image that needs special care
In resolving the problems the mind recreates
Is one kind of addiction among human fates.
Suffering is the byproduct all creatures bear
From birth into existence until they are dead.

A huge bit of my suffering is of the mind,
As it is with most people. Alone it can make
A big deal of a small thing, then all will go wrong.
If my positive thinking were stunningly strong,
It may cause enough shifting that I may awake
To the knowing that obstacles are rather kind.

Other problems of living I cannot control,
As they come from the outside, or seemingly so.
People dying and illness are common to all.
We encounter the big things as well as the small.
It is necessary for all creatures to grow
Through the difficult challenges to make them whole.

Thinking can’t offer freedom from having to face
Obstacles on my cherished path, Do I create
Every damned thing that happens? It’s irrelevant!
I can accept that I create just the moment
With detachment from judgment in absence of weight.
Optional is most suffering that I embrace.