Category Archives: Poetry and Verse

Dazed and confused

I’m missing each day

Looking over my shoulder.

Missing in every way

Tired and much older.

Not so amused.

Dazed and confused.

Why am I looking?

Looking way out ahead.

There’s nothing out there.

It’s here in my head.

I am not amused.

Just dazed and confused.

If my mind isn’t here

Am I not present?

And where is the here?

Life seems not so pleasant.

Am I amused?

No; dazed and confused.

It’s passing me by

And nothing is clear

There’s only today

The blur is the fear.

I was once amused.

Now just dazed and confused.

No presence of mind

And fearing the worst

Not living at all.

It must be a curse.

I’m sure not amused.

Still dazed and confused.

Now mindful again.

Eyes no longer blind.

The fog starts to lift.

Clear focus of mind.

Not amused for a while.

Just dazed and confused.

Lucky little piggy

If you’re having suckling pig this Christmas,

Spare piggy a thought.

He may taste better stuffed than you,

But his life is very short.

Lucky little piggy.

Lucky little swine.

Sage and onion up your arse.

Sealing wax up mine.

Featured image by TIMOTHY H.

Leaf

Like a new leaf to the tree we cling, then slowly grow and learn of life. Enduring woes soon grind us down and, grudging, we accept the hand we’re dealt.

The struggle now is over;

The futility is clear;

The tree of life abandons us;

Our grip is one of fear.

Cast off now, we succumb

And float upon the wind.

This is the freedom we strove for.

The truth we can’t rescind.

 

Illusions

Survival he should know,

Requires not any other,

Water, food and sleep;

Then add a little colour.

But the one eye’d man

Lives with himself

And suffers more than

Those he shelves.

Nurturing his ego in

Suffering’s deep shade.

Confusing more the self with

A life that is self-made.

Self-illusion cannot be grasped.

Reach beyond, he was once told.

There within lies the divine.

The Bhudda way can he then hold.

By meditation he may learn;

But if he does, may find too late,

His life so quickly passed him by

And left him standing at the gate.

And when he finds his last day is

The same as was his very first.

But four hours and twenty.

He may well ask – did I achieve what I did thirst?

Tomorrow is another world.

Now it is his journey starts.

There is no purpose to his space.

Then live each day as if his last.

About rebirth he may well ask

And transmigration of the soul.

Illusions like a wave are cast

Up and down, as though whole.

No waves move, no soul incarnate.

Life’s Illusions will he recall.

Process passing, only karma.

Does he know life at all?