Nighttime Contingency
Where did the sleepless of the world run off to?
The existential possibilities of a
Night out on the town completely elude me
When I order two drinks
I want to trade one for a good story
Have fathers stopped teaching their sons
How to properly shake hands?
I want to forget about my ugly spirit
And laugh with ugly faces!
I don't want a single second to pass
Where I'm not in danger of spilling my drink.
America, my heroes aren't fit to be gods
Or are they?
It's so clear to me now,
The racket and confusion of morality is gone.
I once met an eighty-year old man
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poem by C.S. Smith
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Cigar Store Indian
Wind rushed over the rooftops
and into the small common that lay tucked in between two buildings.
With it - gusts of snow stung the face. I pulled a cigarette from its package.
Matches were a bad choice.
The ember burns bright and that taste brings me right back to 16.
Lungs hacked and wheezed - seemed like a lousy deal,
giving up your innocence for a punch in the chest.
Nostalgia
I rubbed my fingers together - it was getting cold.
Not too bright really, standing outside in the snow and sleet.
Sometimes I wonder who's smoking who.
Philosophical nonsense
Do we stomp out our cigarettes? Or do our cigarettes stomp us out?
What keeps me standing outside in the cold, like a cigar store Indian?
poem by C.S. Smith
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Taoist Issues
I can't stand getting my way
Nothing good ever comes out of it
So many missed opportunities to learn valuable life lessons
What will I teach my kids?
I certainly can't let them end up becoming as spoiled as me
Though I think I turned out just fine
If I don't say so myself
But where is the line between what must be taught
And what must be learned
For self-discovery is amongst one of the most important aspects in life
Buddhists believe that it's the path to enlightenment
How do we teach a child that wrong is right?
How do we even accept that it is possible for right to come out of wrong?
How could society handle such a notion?
The hundred-year-old laws would shatter
And set the foundation
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To Live
Alive!
Here!
Now!
In the year two thousand and twelve!
How good it is to be alive!
February 11th - hoping life goes well
A year that only we will live to experience!
A year that only we will have the pleasure to experience!
A year that only we will have the misfortune of experiencing!
Every day we hold dear!
Every day we fear!
Every day we sit in an indecisive stupor!
Trying to decide - whether this is our eternity
Or this is our hell
Every day we live!
Every day we give!
Every day we relish in sanctity!
We were chosen for this life!
Every day we relish in ourselves!
For we are life!
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To Die
If I die tomorrow
Know that I lived
And that's all I could have ever asked for
If I die tomorrow
Know that I loved
And to be capable of love
Is all I ever really wanted
If I die tomorrow
Know that I tried
For all who live in silent desperate acceptance
Live a life of self-destruction
If I die tomorrow
Know that all was well
For all who live a single day
Know that tragedy can accompany you
The rest of days
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Life and Love at Agathon's Symposium
Who among us knows the true origin of love?
Do we love to be whole, again?
Do we strive for loves embrace in hopes of once again becoming children of the Sun? or Earth? Or Moon?
Do we wish to, once again, bounce around the world as not two - but one?
Like in Aristophanes' story of the origin of love?
Can we come to understand that which dictates our earthly desires, here, in the palace of the poet?
What of love Socrates? What wisdom did Diotima entrust you with?
You - who would take you tale of resource and poverty to your grave, for you truly believed that with love - comes deceit.
What conviction - poor, lonely Socrates
In death, be we whole, or wise, or happy,
we allow the mark of our love to carry our name into immortality
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A Buddhist Monk Ruined My Life
I'll never forget the day a Buddhist monk ruined my life
All were excited for our class field trip
I walked into his humble temple and was introduced to him
His smile - radiant
His eyes - welcoming
Living so happily with so little
Such righteous convictions
Such impeccable morals
In the belly of the giant golden Buddha
I saw everything wrong with my life
My greed
My gluttony
My lust
My envy
My melancholy
My wrath
My pride
The cardinal vices that defined my existence
And trampled on his noble eightfold path
The seven deadly sins I accepted as human nature
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The Equation of Love
August 1st 1997, William S. Burroughs, a tired, elderly recluse,
whose arm had seen a thousand needles,
and whose hand had accidentally taken the life of his wife, Joan, in Mexico city,
sought to solve the equation of love.
The scribbles in his notebook composed his final journal entry
August 1st 1997,
Love? What is it?
Most natural pain
Killer what there is.
LOVE
Love - a natural pain killer - the cure for suffering
The answer - as far as he was concerned.
The next day - he would die.
He died having accepted love - but his approach was flawed
It wasn't his answer that was wrong, but the question.
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The Wide-eyed Antics Of Salvador Dali
O Salvador!
What world do your eyes see?
Do you see the canvas on your easel?
Or do you see through it?
Teach me O genius!
Where does one learn to open ones eyes so wide
That all that hides from our sight
Is drawn into lawless perception
Past logic
Past knowledge
Past understanding
Where there is nothing but images
And the possibility of a dream
How do we look upon a world that is flat to the eye
And see it to be round?
How do you hide your insanity in your suit
And let your curly mustache be your caste?
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Wonder and Fear
Many, including I, often fear the future.
We fear life - because it's not concrete - because we cannot, and will not, learn it's mysteries.
Because nothing is certain.
And those who prosper - can thank only luck
How can one keep the good in mind? - they ask
I ripped a page out of Whitman, so that no matter where I went, I would always remember to celebrate myself.
For our atoms would keep each other company.
How can one overcome mortality whence the fall begins? - they ask
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