A poem that was once the wind

Here is the second post of some of my quotes, sayings, vignettes and mysteries; although some of them may appear enigmatic or inscrutable, their form does resemble life in some way or another...

Addiction is a strange fruit that burns a lot of nights to leave you exhausted, and for all intents and purposes has no place in enlightenment, but many go through it, and get to the other side feeling relief to have survived it.
It’s a dark place to be caught in where no real purpose is served except to find how far you are from clarity.

The eye is alight with haunted visions at me peeping all. I am safe in these closed behind doors; far from the way I stay they say with love scream venom chill my life with much dream and sigh. At me they stare jawing like toothless piranhas until my car I get in and drive away I go.

I’m hanging onto my inebriation like an old promise of better things to come. But tonight, there’s wine and forgetting and hooting under the wallpaper.

Despair is an odd paradox of the monkey mind that has no use other than fear and repression where the outcome is usually depression.

So, to extrapolate quantum theory into its quintessential essence of probable and inescapable theorem for the intellect: nothing is what it seems where you look further than what seems to be so before you look.

Turpitude does not relieve boredom but rather enhances it and this is why extraneous belief cannot jump over the moon in a month of Sundays faster than knowing, in this universe anyway.

It’s not that I don’t believe in God, it’s that I don’t believe in what the system has told me about their version of God. I don’t believe in the religions or anything they say and I’m letting all that nonsense fall away so that there’s just me and my thirst to know. That’s a clean place to be, a pure place and simple, no complications and the only ignorance there is my own and that I can deal with.

One fifth of an illusion is not really very much at all and in fact may be less than nothing which in the time of the Greeks was really not a lot at all. But these days with the current thought that nothing may be filled with rather a lot then nothing may be more than it seems.

Oh, the drunken head a swine so small a leaf this huge.
Take off your hat, this is a prayer.
Over there plays a piano, and a lonely ghost crying in dreams
And images of naked existence and dried flowers
Forgotten ownership belonging to the sky
A poem that was once the wind..

The moon’s beauty is in my hall and I have suffered for its silence. But if the bamboo reeds strike at dawn sunlight’s desire then set love’s surrender upon my heart the secret value of dust.

I smoked a smoke and stared at the cactus on the table willing it to grow but I don’t think we were on the same wavelength because it didn’t do anything, not a bloody thing.

Images from Pixabay