Posts Tagged ‘samsara’

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After The Orgy

February 24, 2008

After The Orgy 

Twisted, blistered, hamfisted

Mutilated yet still cognitive

A sprawl of mutant indiscretions

Piled upon each other without end

Without sin, without realization

Every drug taken, every liberty taken

Abused, poisoned, misused, intoxicated

Needles out our eyeballs and between our toes

Stacks of fresh human meat

In the shopping centre rows

Every holy place desolate, every obscenity sanctified

Categorized, commercialized, advertised, desensitized

Overloaded, overstimulated, manipulated, condescended

Evaluated and commodified, sold back to us pound by pound

Any and every and all experiences in a Hollywood film

Marketed to us as reachable dreams

Have it all and more

The most beautiful girls, the most erotic sex, the highest high!

Every error paintbrushed out, people become perfect, unreachable, godlike

Smiling from the magazines subtitled in bold type:

“How To Be Happy!”

“Get Lips Like These!”

“What You Don’t Know About Being Beautiful!”

 

Erogenously exploited, they’ve managed to tap into

Our minds, our souls, and begin to fill them

We the human land-fills, deposited with the shite

The trite, the meaningless, the gibbergabber

The sensational, the spectacular!

Spastically tackling each drama in our lives

Hungry, famished, starving

Wastrels and skeletons in our plastic mausoleums

Devouring each other, soaking up every emotion

Every event, the screens plugged into our souls

We read from scripts transmitted subliminally

Our poor degenerate Gods

         the Celebrity Pantheon –

pity the poor plastic spastics trapped in

Paparrazzi lenses

They are our slaves! Our gladiators!

Our whores and by Christ do we take our money’s worth

They are our martyrs and our saints and our sacrifices

And we are told to idolize them and then we

Gleefully butcher them on the altar of publicity

A week’s media entertainment.

The bloodletting is ceaseless

The slaughter unimagineable

Across the globe, our planet is raped

Dying, we the cancer that is killing it

Yet we continue to fuck and smoke and drink

And party and smile and shit over everything and everyone

Flicking through magazines, gloating over pictures

Of people we know, but have never met

We lap them up, drown in them, resent their success and revel in their dismay

Selfish, senseless, demonic seraphim that we are.

There is no saving the planet. There is no light.

The human race is on a crashcourse with God’s own wrath.

Oblivion.

And we know it.

But we hide behind this infantile, puerile, degrading, demeaning nonsense.

We used to communicate in the language of song

Converse with the trees, the animals, the angels

With our own souls, with each other,

We were understood; we understood.

Now our babel of languages causes only confusion.

 

In the suddenly chilling darkness

I find myself surrounded by sweating, clammy flesh

Anonymous bodies, blank faces

Panting and spent

Drained of all emotion

All desire

All humanity

We look at each other and see

The mound of human debris we have become.

Empty vessels, bereft of God.

We dress, and shake hands. Awkward smiles.

 

After the orgy

After all those perceived moments of fleeting bliss

And ecstasy beyond comparison

Those strata of novae like super-pleasures

After every degradation possible

After we’ve done it all, seen it all, experienced it all

We walk out into the cold night street

We will find

That our world has become a wasteland

Our souls have become vacuums

And we are no more satiated

Than when we came in.

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This Is Liberation

February 24, 2008

This Is Liberation 

Frustration

My mind blocked like constipation

When posed with the question

“How do we correct the state of the nation?”

Because I’d learned from a young age that any vocation

Be it in a food court, shopping mall or gas station

Was preferable to time spent in thoughtful oration

And certainly better than interpersonal communication

Or acknowledging our mutual quiet desperation

As if a little human honesty would be met with

Castration.

 

Ouch!

So when this question’s put about

I feel the need to speak out

To let my balls hang out

Ready to receive a knock-back clout

Because I’ve realized beyond any shadow of a doubt

We’re all caught on a hook, like cod or trout

We’re all trained to accept, like young boy scout

That you can never break the rule

The rules you can never flout.

 

Bullshit!

I’ve got independent thought and I’ll use it

Like police have authority and abuse it

Like politicians have power and misuse it

Like fundamentalists take faith and confuse it

Like media take truth and misconstrue it

I’m through with it

Looking outwards for answers

Misguided

Like looking for loot after a natural disaster

Deluded

Like healing a severed limb with a sticking plaster

It’s never going to make you happy

Faster.

 

Victory?

Only achievable from within

If you refuse to give in

Everyday you get up and you keep striving

The journey to change the world it begin from within

The journey to change the world it begin from within

Try to change your mind, not what’s happening

Battling what’s happening’s a battle you can never win

But your mind you own through a little training

Our mind creating the world we live in

Our mind deciding our definition of sin

So therefore is the source of all our dissatisfaction

So stop your crying, and whining, and lying, and fussing and fighting

Our everyday reality

Is of our own conceiving.

 

Positivity!

A weapon against hostility

Running out of me and direct into thee

Growing from fallen leaves like a seed into a tree

Cleansing the mind of all impurity

Through perfecting intentions achieving clarity

Understand the relationship of temporal causality

Through compassion and wisdom, achieve that unity

An understanding of universal beauty

Through meditation to peace and harmony

Remembering always the imperfect beauty of you and me

And you and you and you.

 

This is liberation

Not war against states or rebuilding nations

This is revolution

Not violent insurgency, but militant mind poetry

This is inspiration

Not art in galleries but the heart that’s in me

This is freedom, o freedom

Simple as birds, singing in trees

Reaching out to touch people

Opening up gladly

Unafraid that they might be horrified

And flee

Why would you flee?

Would you flee?

 

Only we have the keys to set ourselves free.