Drifting Bodies & Shifting Minds

Drifting Bodies and Shifting Minds
Gifting memories with rifting experiences

Living in the differences, finding the difference within the difference of the difference
I have become a nuisance to the wants of the indifferent
Flicked by each one, flipped by everyone
I am no one to raise the one in each one

With no dimension to mention and with no mention of a dimension to make my illusory mansion
I await in the depths of my breath for my dear friend, death

Death as a memory to relieve me of my memories, to relive another memory
I am tangled in the web of my own fury

In a world that bows to the glory, I make my story a fairy
A fairy story to makeup my dairy, A dreary dairy

Bounded by the pleasures of the flesh
Hounded by the measures of my minds mesh
I am found within this mesh of the flesh

Bodies as a manifestation of the thought
and thought as expression through the bodies
I have become an extension of the thought of the body, living in the knot of the shoddy

Unaware and unable to recognize the nature of this thought, I go about being a feature of my own drought

The thought that is crowned, the thought that is downed, the thought that is abound
And the thought, thinking of the thought of the thought that is confound may come across the nature of its own nature
To liberate, to desecrate, to negate, to disintegrate each thought and every thought

Maybe here, maybe then, I may come across that which is not of the body, through the mind of the body nor the knot of that which is taught
For the thought that is not caught, is not of the taught and not of the sought.

Adrift

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Body as my Thought

In my world full of bodies
Bodies full of thoughts, my thoughts full of bodies
And thoughts full of thoughts about the thoughts of bodies
How am I to know my thought and my body

I spend time looking at the bodies, craving for the bodies, to satisfy the body
Grooming my body to be of the perception of the thoughts of the bodies.

Bodies as memories, memories as thoughts creating my body, my thought and the resulting experience
Only to realize that the “You” come on your own terms, the you, leave on your own terms
And when I beg for you to come back and you mug me on your way back
How am I to know why am I a result of the body?

I wonder if I avoid my perception of the body, it will devoid my thought of the body
so I burn the bodies thinking that would turn my thought
only to realize that the thoughts I thought would turn, gave me more bodies to burn

So I sleep, sleep walk thinking I am awake
Thinking of awake from my sleep, I say to myself that I am awake for I can walk
Only to realize I am in sleep walk and sleep awake

No thought to think
No thing to do and no where to go
I am a slave to repetition
I tuition my mind to the repetition of abomination
Making Abomination as my true notion, as my nation

Seeking pleasure in pain and pain in pleasure
For the nectar of pain is sweeter than the emptiness
Sweeter than the no thing that I have to face

For my face has million masks to make me gasp every time I look in my own Cask
Maybe there will be a time, a moment in time to look at my time to realize that I have no time

For the You has everyone and the I have None
Maybe then, I wake up to clean up my makeup

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Survival as My Revival

For a few loaves of bread and a few grains of grub
In-between the joys of pleasure and in the sorrows of pain
I find my life I call life, I define this as my life

Enslaved to my desires
Engulfed by the objects of my desire
I make my desire my attire
And I roam the streets of slavery in the savory of my for hire

Unable to create a life on my own
I recreate and procreate on the knife of pleasure and pain

Lost in the images of imagination, I build walls of hallucination
And I deck my walls with accusations of the other

Comfort as my fuel
Comfort of Security as my duel
I burn in the flames of my own habit

Unable to open up to the unknown
I stone the unknown for the known, to the known, through the known

I trade freedom for security to find freedom through security
For I know of no freedom without security

I wonder if I am dreaming, if I am asleep
Only to realize that the dreamer and that which is being dreamed are me, one and the same
I wonder of that which I wake up to, I wonder if that is another dream within my dream of the dream

Unknown of my own known, I weave a web of a prison, a prism
Where I am the thief ad I am the police

Tired of the games and afraid of the memes and the names of the memes
Walloped by my own imagination, I no longer can gallop through my memory of life
For my life has become a few grains of grub and few loafs of bread

Survival

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Hurt

Hurt people hurting people making hurt people hurt more people
to distract people, to detract people

Divisions as my distractions and detractions as my provisions
these Provisions as my visions on the course of my collisions
Dividing the division of the divide within me

People come, people leave
But the Pupil that i am has become the weave for every eve
Every eve that is a heave
I may think i am here to achieve, to receive, to perceive, but i am simply naïve

Player upon player
Layer upon layer
Prayer upon prayer
I layer the prayer for the player i have become

Each pupil as a player, playing the player, playing the player of the player
Living in the fear and Forgetting the dear
I spear and smear everyone and everything near
Just to appear as a frontier, for i have lost my ear to hear, here

Me as a reflection of the entire humanity, with the deception of vanity, created this insanity, this profanity within me
For I have lost my “responsibility” and acceptability to myself
and thus to every self and shelf within me and around me

So, I let me wake up, remove my makeup
raise my cup up to share my heart up

For my heart that’s shaken and my thought that is not mistaken will awaken to become a lumen that lights and a fire that ignites.

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My World

My world is another mold
A mold of another fold

For i realize that every fold is just another hold
Another hold i can no longer withhold
For every withhold is of the told
Both the fool’s gold and the white gold

And all that i am told is now my own blindfold
Blindfolded i am, making the known my backbone

For my Laughter is of the known
My laughter after is of the known

My happiness is of the known
My sadness is of the known

My pleasure is of the known
my treasure is of the known

My pain is of the known
my came is of the known

The faces i miss are of the known
the spaces i kiss are of the known

And, all I know is of the known
All i have yet to know is through the known

To the known, i am alive
To the known, I die

And when i am alive to my sense, i speak of the nonsense of my sense
And when i am no sense, i have no sense to sense the sense

For my world has become a senseless sense with known sense of unknown nonsense, that has no sense of the nonsense, of the sense

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Meditation

Meditation as my medication
Another form of intoxication, another form of hallucigenic dictation, to escape into an imagination
to create a new scape, a new cape to gape
I take shape to reshape the same shape

Meditation as a repitive mechanistic idea
Meditation as a habit, as a pratice
I become a babbit to that practiced habit

I may Ace my face in this habit and hop around like a rabbit as I inhibit the persona of the exhibit
For now i have become an exhibit, a inhibit to my very self
To prohibit myself, to come out of my shelf

For Mediation when practiced as a habit, as a repetitive idea, whether attached to my current habit, or developed as a new habit, will just be another habit
Another habit that will eventually loose its luster as soon as the pleasure of the new habit has faded, for that very idea of habit is jaded
For all I am trying to do is to fulfill my desire to achieve something (the quality of the desire might differ but still there is a want, even if it is a want of no want, no desire)

Mediation practiced as a space, as a place to hide away for a few min or few hours or as a place to mind the mind, “control” the mind
replace the current images of the mind, occupy the mind with a different imagination to experience some form of my perception of ecstasy/bliss, a place to go away, a space to escape from my daily life,
My daily life that is not serving my pleasures and wants of the pleasures and wants of the mind born out of pleasures and wants will just be that –
A framed, a confined, however refined it is, still a confined “hallucination” that the mind will eventually get used to
which inturn will no longer serve my wants to fulfill my wants of peace/bliss/love/ecstasy etc.

For now, the practice of one mediatation is no longer serving me, I will start swinging between this type of mediation and that type of mediation, never understanding my want, my desire to meditate in the first place, to “escape” in the first place.

And meditations of this type, any type, will be like this to me – Before meditation I am digging my hole with a shovel and when I have gotten into habit, into the practice of meditation, I will dig my hole with a bulldozer.

Maybe when I actually see this, actually realize this nature of the practice, nature of all these well known mediations, nature of my own minds habit, will I still go after developing and attaching more habits to my already habituated mind, my practiced mind, filling/replacing more of the refined confinements?

Or will meditation be something entirely different for me?, as a space to become completely “Aware” of every single thought that is happening within me, questioning the nature of every thought and the very thought itself, and the self I call myself that is thinking of these thoughts?

Maybe then i will Question, Question the Question, Question the Question that is questioning the question?

I wonder, What would such a mind of mine be then?

Will I then become aware, totally aware with utmost attention, not focus but “complete attention”, complete responsibility to my every thought that may bring upon a different change within me, that may take me beyond habit, beyond practice, beyond every form of meditation out there?

Then, maybe then, will I still need to confine my mind, my thoughts for few min, few hours of this and that silly medications?

For now, maybe now, every thought, every second and every part of my life and the very life itself is a meditation in itself, a meditation of “Awareness”, A mediataion of “examination”.

A meditation of wonder, wondering the wonder that is wondering of the wonder to wonder of wonder with no wonder to wonder wonder
Maybe …..

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