improvised karma repair kit:

-allocate appropriate time and mindset.
-search for nearest bath
-fill the bath with hot water
-find a good book (no, not anything like 50 shades of grey, or anything written by danielle steel nor anything like that kinda shit)
-get into the bath (getting undressed may help, but this part is entirely up to you)
-meditate (this part is tricky, it can be anything…simple prayer, chanting, you can be shouting loud or just whisper, it can be ohm…simply whatsoever that will clear your mind and makes you realise the void of being)
-if you receptively fail after few attempts, don’t force it, reach for the book and enjoy it, if you’ll feel for another attempt… try meditating again.
-enjoy your time
-whole proces might be aided by incense sticks and candles
-don’t fel asleep
-don’t drown (at least try not to)
-be happy.

-after the whole proces, try to hug a baby rhino, if you can’t (because you don’t have a baby rhino or hands to hug it with), tell someone you love them, or just do something nice and generally good and helpful for this planet)

Rise Up

Reblogged from theunknowntoall Poetry & Works:

Why are we leaving?

Why are we fleeing?

Can’t we see?

We’re forsaking our destiny

We freak and flee without sanity

And leave the lost to drown in blood

Why have we fallen into profanity?

For what does this accomplish in mud?

As one we had a thought

That everyday we passed was fought

For no other answer was sought…

Read more… 167 more words

one can not comprehend life....and then again, what else are we trying to do here anyway?....sometimes, I think our little community of us, poets that never met is pretty much way more bizarre than san franciscos 50' poetry scene with Kerouac, Ginsberg, Smyth and jugs of wine (though the wine would help :)

long time no see…influences, schizophrenia(?) and talking to self

while hello dear pen and paper

what now?

what today?

what again?

 

blank stare

blank stars

 

on the road to perdition

on the road for salvation

on the road to nirvana

on the road for ever

 

on

the

road

 

(cheesy) 

even sea won’t declare our family affairs.

 

…how could I forget, the mountains, my secret lover(s).

so long ago and far away.

yet the time and space doesn’t count.

I’m there and they are within.

 

Ray said it out loud.

all of it

earlier, and later on as well.

not only that only time for which most of us know him so well.

(do we?)

but before and after as well.

for visions of cody and other people

 

a strange solitary Catholic mystic

that never met the trout

yet I fantasise of both of them

as strange friends

against the rest of us

the sane mob.

(shame on me)

the unfortunate duo.

 

hiking for nothingness

dharma.

is hidden in watermelon sugar

 

is this haiku?

where is Gary(japhy) to tell me?

 

don’t tell Ginsberg.

just go.

 

I will….

 

but first…

I will stay some time with pen and paper.

for I haven’t seen them for a while.

 

 

junkyard

if I was this place
I’d become something else

but because I am not
there is nothing to be done about it

I walked all that far
to meet the wise man

to learn he was just a scam
lie living in a wasteland

a philosopher that world yet not had seen
with a dump for his home

learnt the harsh truth
that there is no right to reclaim

so now being stranded here
looking for a friendly soul

mystified by will-o’-the-wisps
and the spirits of the lost

I’ve seen what you can call a goal
for it was only a sham

that can not be blamed on anyone
just the trick of my sick eye

for easing the pain
that never was.

if I was this place
I’d become something else

but because I am not
I’ll take my time to leave.

the night I met with James Joyce

it might had been’bout 3am.

the night rain made its attempt to make everything look dramatic.

 

having one of the late night/early morning cigarettes….

James Joyce approached from unpredictable perspective.

 

we talked about some shit….

meaning of life, etc…

 

assumptions vere made,

conclusions decided.

 

after all that….

I believe Bukowski was right….. 

dawn of bizzare

periods of time

filled with pitch-dark void.

 

interrupted by explosions of sudden

randomly…

 

bursting with…

coincidences  beyond reach.

 

meetings as karmic symbols…

& voyages.

 

psychonauts

rose from below the void.

 

to seek and behold the sparks…

between void.

 

 

 

General feelings in local non-stop supermarket about 22:32 one general saturday night

you came to buy just a packet of cigarettes.

donate some change to the establishment of taxes and monetized addiction.

form of control one may say.

simple pleasure the other could reply.

 

nevertheless that is not the point of these lines.

the point lies behind the cashier on a plastic shelf hidden under covering blinds 

(so the non-smokers are not offended by sight of cigarettes)

the path is long and still it’s not.

to be truthful, it’s painfully short.

 

but you have to go through the isles, products, and shelves of stuff you don’t give a damn fuck about…

but still  something within you tells, dictates, to grab some stuff, like candies & etc., just to buy with the smokes.

dunno why, just to buy something more meaningful  or valuable in other way, just than a tar smoke packed in paper.

the air-conditionings buzz for some non-obvious reason tells you to simultaneously concentrate on the flickr caused by cheap neon lights.

sub-consciously you examine faces of your fellow nigh timed shoppers.

the frowns of bad day.

the hidden smiles of small victories and pleasures.

numbness of the day.

faces of the life.

 

you smile on a passing kid.

or maybe not.

 

depends on you, your day, your modd and all other sorts of things I do not care tonight for.

I smiled.

 

then you do few other meaningless social rituals, until you find yourself standing the short queue for the cashier (by that time, certain parts of your mind already glorified that person as the god of patience and waiting.).

 

here is the time.

that is the moment.

not only you say your desired brand of so called death in smoke (or any other secondary preferred brand…you know, just because somewhere they just may do not sell the lucky piece of branding.) but all the other senses will go mad, you are avare of the kid trying to reach for stuff, you smell the strangely familiar smell of the store, and you think about the surreality of the moment….

 

and then…..the transaction is done.

you’ve changed the goods for the socially aspected bearers of value, given to you as for exchange and excuse to buy parts of time of your life.

 

you go outside, victoriously light the cigarette, and realize that you’ve just missed the bus you’ve been waiting for, till you got bored and went to buy the smokes to shorten your time.