The Cherry Tree

cherrytree

Disbelief, my own believing

Chop down the Cherry Tree

Remembering’s deceiving

‘Til we find who we were meant to be

Another lifetime lost in dreaming

Another spent in fantasy –

A lie, which claims it is revealing

A lie who swallows you and me

Reality’s the tougher dealing

They feed us all these toxic seedlings

So find some kind of healthy healing

Turn off your flat-screen TV

———————————-

One foot steeped courageously

In all Life’s Deepest Mysteries

The other pulling desperately

Never quite releasing

Entrenched in sand – heavy, quick

Mud-like, glue-like, sticky, thick

I built this bridge brick by brick

Now I’m standing right on top of it

Straddling two different lands

One foot stuck, one foot free

At least I’ve got these hands

I dig on in; I loosen things

Attempting Hanuman’s mountainous leap

Disbelief was once concealing

The inner faith that I’ve been feeling

Experientially

Never keen on blind following

I’ll take Shraddha, please

———————————–

Illusion sheds

It burns away

I turn my face towards

Today

I whisper to myself —

I say, “Allow…allow…allow…”

“Look!” I exclaim, right out loud

To no one in particular

The Cherry Tree’s alive, I see

It stands quite perpendicular —

Blossomed, fragrant, heavenly

I taste the fruit it offers me

The truth of Life where it belongs —

Back inside of me

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WAKE THE FUCK UP

war

Stupid fucking people everywhere
You see them out there
Small talking about the weather
They don’t know any better
Rattling on about the latest sale at Marshals
I hear a neighbor’s voice waft into my living room
Cloying and gossipy, “Oh, it’s allllways about HER,” she says so nasally I wonder if her nose is doing the speaking
I get the distinct feeling she’s talking about herself
Just doesn’t know it
I tried to get to my gmail today by pressing the “gm” buttons into my browser
Accidentally took me to female genital mutilation
I guess I pressed the “f”
Women in other places get their clitoris and labia scraped off
Their vaginas sown up
Sometimes without anesthesia
Usually before age 5
They see it as a rite of passage or a sign of purity and honor
I see it as men in fear trying to control women’s power
I see it as the symbol it is – women mutilating their femininity
How long do we suffer blindly?
How long do we fool ourselves to make the shit we eat taste more palatable?
So what kind of poem is this, you wonder?
Where is it going?
I don’t fucking know
People in Ukraine dying and bloodied by government for fighting for rights
In 2014
How are we still this barbaric?
HOW?
There is too much pain in this world
Covered up shoddily by our daily purgings of false importance on Facebook
Or our video game playing addictions – 5 hours a day — or
Anything, really, to take us away from the horrific truth of what is actually going on
All the time
Because we feel helpless
So we hide
Until consciousness again finds us and we are thrust into action
Until we stop asking “how are you” and not giving a fuck about someone’s answer
Until we stop talking about the weather
And start discussing our souls