Siddartha, I know you.
I have known your pain.
I have heard the laughter
And I have touched the rain.
...
My heart turns dark reading bad poetry:
the same as when the volume's too high;
the same as when the meaning's all gone,
...
supreme affliction:
materialist complacency,
swarming to defeat desire,
milling about extinction.
...
The empty atrium
forebodes the danger within,
like the number thirteen
or the spurious gesture
...
Snow falls round the lamppost
Yesterday trips across my brow
I hunger for revelation
Like a raven on a wire
...
I have much to give you,
Though I have shirked
My responsibility,
Thinking that I needed more
...
I was walking down the street one day;
Quaint, I know, but arguably true,
when all at once and out of the blue,
an idea came into my view, hey!
...
At the Threshold of Love
The Lover must remove his sandals:
Within, the holy Chamber,
Washed in Lover's tears,
...
I was born on the Canadian prairies, in Swift Current, Saskatchewan, or Speedy Creek as it is called. Having lived many places in Canada, I decided to try overseas for awhile and for the past eight years I have been in China. My writing mostly hangs around waiting for something better, so I spend too much time looking through other people's stuff.)
Broken Hearts
Lover,
do not lay blame:
it is the pain
of your own desire
that breaks your heart
There's lots of things With which I'm blessed, Tho' my life's been both Sunny and Blue, But of all my blessings, This one's the best: To have a friend like you. In times of trouble Friends will say, Just ask... I'll help you through it. But you don't wait for me to ask, You just get up And you do it. And I can think Of nothing in life That I could more wisely do, Than know a friend, And be a friend, And love a friend... like you.