Meditation on Escapism

If there is one thing I am no good at, it is escapism. I hate it. There is something in my nature too utterly stubborn to ever allow me to just sit back and relax. I need to act, to fix, to move forward, to beat myself or my feelings into submission. I cannot simply ignore something. It will tear at me, and I'll struggle with it until there is something won. It's funny how I never consider how much it costs me to win.

I've been doing a lot of fighting. I've been trying to beat so many things into submission. I've been convinced I'm doing everything I can to live the life other people are living, the life I think I should have. Really, I've just been hurting myself by not living the life that only I can live.

I've been dwelling on the most permanent form of escapism, suicide. Today while walking to the coffee shop to read, I began to understand that suicide is just another form of escapism. I've been looking at it as release, but really it's just an attempt to escape things. Perhaps it does work. But, it is in the same way that alcohol or drugs or sex or any number of another ways we escape pain work. There's nothing to be learned from it. It means an end to that learning that we are here to do.

I feel better now. Perhaps a bit macabre still, but better. I've finally recognized something that's been holding me back, that's been keeping me from moving forward, and for me that recognition means reclaiming the parts of my world that I was giving up.

To Terra-form

There is something in your visage
in the angle of your jaw and beard
the points of your mouth when you laugh
in your scrunched up eyes when you smile
that still calls my name. (or is that a hallucination?)

I reckon my life with you as the start
of the newest one, the one I'm not settled in.
I don't blame you anymore, there is no blame.
The only thing to be had in its place is peace.
But that's not as easy as hallucinating you, again.

And this is another fossil of feeling.
Maybe they are better left buried - fuck.
leave them underground until they're old enough
to be used to fuel something else, to terra-form
and use you as another beginning, and another end.

Catharsis 1

If things were simple and I could not imagine
all these things I feel that I am missing tonight
If I were not a poet, not a romantic, not a dreamer
and I could ignore what could be or have been.
If I slept well alone or summoned the strength
to cook for myself and eat alone every night.
If I could dream of a life where I was alone
and not grasping for an unattainable possession.
If there were androids for me to fall in love with
and understand for all their simple programming.
If men could be a known quantity not this heart
rending wondering if they are telling the truth.
If I could settle for anything besides fire
and lightning and a balm for addiction.

A dreamer I'd continue to be.
Right now, I hate poetry.
I hate this mind and body.

But, I am trapped and tired.

Pablo Neruda

If only the passion with which
Pablo Neruda writes were to
be found in every kiss, every
touch, every fluttering eyelash.
If only all lips were the shape
that he implied they should be
and all hearts beat as hard
as he said his beat to see her.
If only I summoned that
natural intensity, that unbridled
that lack of boundaries,
that home-coming to a lover.
If only I did not know who
Pablo Neruda was, so that
I did not know what I am
now missing to not be him.

I used to hate hate.

I used to hate hate.
But, at a certain point
when I had learned to love fully,
I began to understand its place.

I do not forgive myself my hatred.
But, I accept that it is like love.
A river, in which one can drown
or in which one can learn.

I used to hate hate.
Until I learned how to hate myself,
and judge myself for
all of my perceived weaknesses.

I used to hate hate.
Now, I don't touch the stuff.
Like an alcoholic in a liquor store.

Like the Moon, Girl.

If your dreams, like the moon, girl,
rise and fall, only to be overshadowed
by some brighter light,
dream them only harder, brighter.

Let the moon then shine
like a blazing comet at noon.

Bring it down from its lofty solitude
to burn the impurities in the hot atmosphere.

Then your dreams, like the moon, girl,
shall change the tides.

And, we all then sail at your behest.

Long Before I Met You

Long before I met you
I learned to rest my arms on the clouds
I learned to sit in silence
I learned to bend my knees
I wore this body supple with senses keen

Long before I met you
I only dreamed of things I didn't know
I only dreamed of having a different nature
I only dreamed of being held so well
I wore my dreams light upon my shoulders

It's been a long time since I met you.