ib_dubie: Could I be any more disheveled (Default)
On the heels of Ursula's poem called Boundary Conditions ... I stumbled over this old poem written back in April 2011...

It Happens All the Same

You didn't want to hear the shocking directness.
It really is the only decline, I decline routinely so.
When ignorance is annoying, all sleep is shocking
with all but the longest odds bringing it for an upset.

Just not your broadcast, where anything gets done
on the heel of hearing a few points spoken of, only.
Some say kind and gentle borders love's departure
where something named turns a man's heart, over.

Love slows the pace to the rate of understanding
where the light shines on places between transits.
And on that spot, we stand shaking, holding on
only letting you go can cure and find the holy.

Today is no longer a secret or mystery landscape
where one's death is all to easily lost to illusions.
Come and connect discrete paths of life extension
Acts of power increasingly free man from death.

There is the wind and the wind is us, passerbys.
When you take the moment for silent meditation
wait, wait, wait for that wave of quiet in mind.
Being kind and gentle will quickly be extended.

For the joke about enduring love in relationship
is clearly about comparing it to a grill's rusting.
Finally its simplicity of range over wide areas
that seems basis for the mass of best endurances

Which has nothing to do with wandering ladies
Everything required to expand and extend love
is already present and existing in one's interior.
That range is a matter of attending there greater.

RIP Kabir

Nov. 22nd, 2011 08:50 am
ib_dubie: Could I be any more disheveled (Default)
Kabir says

(One of the most famous of Indian sages of all time)

Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think ... and think ... while you are alive.
What you call "salvation" belongs to the time before death.
If you don't break your ropes while you're alive,
do you think ghosts will do it after?
The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic
just because the body is rotten --
that is all fantasy.
What is found now is found then.
If you find nothing now, you will simply end up
with an apartment in the City of Death
If you make love with the divine, now, in the next life
you will have the face of satisfied desire.
So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,
believe in the Great Sound.
ib_dubie: Could I be any more disheveled (Default)
Just the ranging depth and flow of emotions coming from loving her
of this one extreme gear made just for her; but, irrelevant now, gone.
And my entire point of contact reduced to bits of overused memory.
I know my heart won't last swinging in this complex wind of the injury.
Where the one I always knew would come - showed up to spite me
as though her own pain was somehow my fault, with my agreement.
I don't have her, though I never stopped wanting, but to fall this low
having the one girl meant for me, betray that love, lie and abandon.
There is a cancer spreading over my interior fire, a flame in her name
once roaring hot, now spits and pisses like a sick and wretched sod.

Her space grows cold and small for me, and I'm decided against it.
How do you tell the one, she's destroyed you, when she's a goddess?
There's no time like the present for new love, the years pass though.
Ummmm ... forever gone, and mostly complicated by rarest beauty
convinced me of little to no possiblity a Love will properly claim me
and thus ... love did cripple, maim, disfigure, diminish, and muck
a life, mine this time, and for so long, it now hurts to think about it,
impossible for me to make any real sense or understand this curse.
The one remaining move is called giving up the dream, for the fool.

November 2011

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