Experiences, 
Do come and go, flux and flow
Value is assigned.

Mindful acceptance,
key to letting it all go. 
Tell that to old me. 

The map, not terrain, 
Terrain, littered with ignorance.
Knowledge clears it up. 

The map is a map, 
knowing to let go of it,
Mind-body is key.

My precious maps
have gone to shit, the manure
that fed this loving.

Lovely.

Here is an old one, but I'm still proud of it.

Skin itches and mind bitches
Thoughts shape and entice.
Bubbling chest, thoughts unrest,
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

Past regrets revelry,
Bubbling chest gets heavy.
Thoughts trapped in agitation net,
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

Vibes and pains and vibes and aches,
There was never any control for frack’s sake.
Heavy chest, you suck!
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

Heavy chest, let’s shine the light,
Vibrating heavy, vibrating delight.
Body bursting and mind is high,
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

Fast and revolving, and losing hold,
Nothing stable , slightly troubled.
Dissolving makes the head go round,
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

What…? Where..? Who is there?
Oh god, so primal. Sweaty palms.
Anxiety makes the tummy grumble,
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

Awoken dragon, breathing fire,
Body burning with desire.
Avert! Avert! Depression sounds,
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

Body, mind so bitter-sour,
Life takes on the state of dour.
Disenchantment reigns the day,
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

Mind wants out! Enough is had!
Cries for freedom, longing, mad.
Must escape this hell in “me”!
And "I" am nowhere in the mix. 

Misery walls, misery moat.
Fort of misery, misery catapult.
Buckle your belt, and hold your ground,
As "you" are nowhere in the mix. 

Head above the current tow,
All a flux and all a flow.
Dissipated, wide and calm,
And there is no-one in the mix. 

Head still above the shifting tide,
The key is turned, the door swung wide.
The senses cut, the kill switch flicked,
A “Self” was never ever in the mix.

As I look on peerless stars,
Gravity pulling low the firmament,
A seed will drop from moon to navel,
Slow drop, and be caught in the withered palms
Of vision. And I will see again the stars,
Polished in their new-bound clarity,
And the seed will turn to cypress as
The fruits of the dead grow heavy. . .

Awake!

lol, good use of wasted time, B.

Procrastination Poets Put Pith in Purveyances of Practice Pearls a-Plenty.



Dukha is the place I dwell.
Some would call this dukha hell.
I prefer a different story.
Dukha here is purgatory.

love, tim

last scan was just for kicks.  But this one may be a blues:



 
After Eden
 
And they were both naked, the man and his wife,
 and were not ashamed.
 
Genesis 2:25
 
for Jodi
 
 
We ate the unripe fruit and found it sweet,
and learned to lie as a lying team,
cloaked in leaves and the skins of beasts.
There is no use to speak of blame.
The gift of your face was always truth to me.
 
And now this grief, and the sword of flame,
and the cloven seed of our unripe truth,
and the way starvation came
with the lie we knew, like sugar
that forgot the sugarcane,
 
and believed such sweetness the only name
for love, until the children of our lying came,
and there was murder in the field
where love in its lies could never separate
the slayer from the slain.
 
I heard the snake as well as you;
I found that lying sweet.
And now I labor, mingling sweat with chaff and fruit.
There is no use to speak of blame.
The gift of your face was always truth to me.
 
What I remember now has never been,
a fruit that saw no ripening
before the place we lay was lost in shame.
And all of time until time’s end
is just that field where love lies slain
 
and just the face that seemed to turn away.
What I remember now has never been,
the patience and the grace,
a tree with deeper roots than the lies we made,
a fruit so sweet it’s worthy of your face.