Tag Archive | shame

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.

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.

About Sleep

Nocturnal Flight Of The Spirit

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.

Life Or Death

Choice Or Sentance

It’s a matter of being – or not being here.
In one tenth of an instant all life could be gone.
Then what happens thereafter? Don’t go there so fast.
Though the grips of electrons at best only last
But a non-fatal flailing… do curse the new dawn.
Obstacles are withstanding. I can’t disappear.

Fascination I’m left with – it’s all that remains –
For the movement of particles… or anything
Well accustomed to light speed. I live for the spark
That gives honor to contrast between light and dark.
Only when it gets awful, destructive thinking
Leaves me languidly livid – the worst of all pains.

Living just for this moment, relief I do find.
Distraction from rejection is re-translation
Of the latter to loveliness, but at a cost
To the hurtful part of me who is rather lost
In this world become nasty beyond all reason.
Can creatures like electrons be known to be kind?

 If ever the thereafter consumes my yearning
For the pain to be over, the present is one
That cannot be mistaken for past rotten deeds
Perpetrated in darkness for my selfish needs.
That I get to remain here, true justice is done.
On no thin thread of mercy I’m willing to cling.

No More Guilt

Emerge From The Shadow

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.

A Feeling Awareness

Revealing Change In Attitude

Feel the wetness of Being and all that it means
To be one with the ocean of all that exists.
One may then wax poetic and sing words of praise.
With no glass to fill half way my consciousness stays
In eternal awareness of life’s turns and twists
We are all simply liquid emoting machines.

Feeling vulnerable only emulates fear.
I can sense the reality, but I can choose
To rely on the guidance from deep in the heart.
I cannot feel rejected. My soul is one part
Of one sea that has many – each with different views.
My own take, although humid, is perfectly clear.

The pure truth in acceptance of who I’ve become
Is a source of contentment. While wet upon stage
I have acted the fool often. Is that a shame?
Yes It Is. I’m the one person who must proclaim
To those whom I’ve mistreated, I feel your outrage.
Is there something worthwhile to the beat of this drum?