Tag Archives: Prose

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Thrice.

thrice

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Aftertaste

An aftertaste lingers…

The thought you let go,

You can still taste it.

 

In the back of the tongue,

Where sweet and bitter meet,

There lies a dark remembrance.

 

Sweet longing.

Bitter desire.

Sift and drink saliva of the past…

 

Anointing lips

While asking yourself

 

“How did this happen?”

 

An aftertaste disturbs,

You return to the moment and remember…

It was something you ate.

 

Choices

I just added my social security card to a pile of records that I’ve been collecting from my mom. I am scared. This officially means that I am fully in charge of my life from now on. I am fucking freaked out.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask myself.

The answer is as wild as my short-fused mind. Jumping from theme to theme. One day I am a filmmaker, the next day a poet. One day I am a dancer, the next a fine artist. And all around me are whispers going,

“Choose, Choose, Choose.”

A breath of spirit crawls up into my skin and opens up my pores to reply,

“Never!”

That’s how the battle goes on. Mind against spirit. In this external mundane world, mind always wins. In this external reality, people find it easier to do the hardest, a perpetual self-fulfilling human centipede of tough shit.

Yesterday I was a teacher, and I asked my students,

“Why is there a class system?”

I told them no answer could be wrong. I trust in my students to teach me as much as I, them. They all looked as afraid as I was…

Fear.

Is that why the mind always wins?

I want to live free of the burdens of this lame capitalist society, away from the fallacy of one-way.

Yesterday we fought about whether or not we should have a TV. You think that I think I am better for not needing it. All I care about is our freedom.

And so it goes. And so it goes.

We’ll continue this disagreement just like in the movies.You’ll say it’s because I’m on my period, just like in the sitcoms.You put your foot down because you’re in charge of your life. I say I used to be in charge of mine.

And so it goes. And so it goes.

The truth of the matter is, nothing really matters. But, today I added another piece of paper to a pile of “important” documents. And it scared the shit out of me.

Two Philosophers

The girls on high were too much with themselves.

“Shall we jump?”

They hold hands.

The sunsets between them, as they look onward
Future bound by the past.

“You’re too deep sometimes”
“I CANT HELP IT”

Hair breezes by their eyes,
A long, lengthy, sigh.

Makes you wonder how much air one can hold.

Arms go up
Feet by the edge

Makes you wonder how much wind one can break.

Lifting off,
Soaring

Makes you wonder if it’s all a dream.

 Untitled

 

From The Molskine _ End Search For Nirvana

Scanned from the opposite page, in my molskine journal

Scanned from the opposite page, in my molskine journal

There is no need to search for nirvana.
For we all contain this blissful truth within.
The programing of this matrix we built is the only barrier and that which I call Sin.

There is a fallacy in this search,
those questions we rehearse….

“Who Am I?”
Samsara Wandering, Wondering…
“Who I AM.”

Quiet.
Shh…

Listen to plain sight.
All that you have been missing.
No Key
For there was never a lock!
Your mind is the only block…

Search far and wide but I tell you,
There is no thing to find!

The Alchemist’s gold,

all that is,
& all that will be….

is in you,
as much as it is in me.

Piece Of Prose “Looking Back”

“There is much to learn from Lot’s wife and Orpheus who were told not to look back,” he mused as we drove away from the home i’ve grown to know. A landscape that reflected our once thriving family. I kept my eyes shut, the rays of the sun etched shadows of the dying redwoods across my face. I began a new mantra in my mind.

“Just don’t look back – We are almost there”