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Thursday, 30 June 2016

wheresoever

a hard meditation: on mercy

still trying to rise to be awake and flow.
a mix of too much sun, diarrhoea and migraine does its own
to consciousness. 
more than forty years ago, near Seo de Urgel, the heat reflecting from the road
which was near melting, a car passed at high speed right in front of my feet,
and there it was, a terrible truth: a beautiful small green lizard, dead and flat.
the sky was blue and merciless.
it shows the sky is the sky and death is death, words are nothing in the face of true perception.
theories, meditation, philosophy , good wishes and deep feelings are nothing in the moment of confrontation. 
the woman i have loved is all i saw in her-but not for me.
and she is also all what she is and how she meets me.
through  the then naked eyes of my childhood and adolescence i sensed this life as cruel,
anticipated suffering and could not imagine real consolation, solace nor communion.
my only goal was independence as far as possible in mind and existence.
i had changed in this, reaching inner life and then had fortunately found few partners to share in honesty and intimacy.
with my eyes possibly clouded by pain i see cruelly clear again.
and feel sick by my own re-occuring desire and longing.
Alice made me feel sick about 'sex', i don't want it anymore, not here.
It was part of me, it was a soft warm place in me, it comes out with bile by now.
there is neither enough space nor nearness and there have been too many words allover.
It was to 'accept' for now, now i feel now will be forever.
i shuddered too often, i know i am old and will get ill more often without arms holding me,
i feel cold, and when i see my human brothers and sisters and me, i see greed, indifference,
sadness of ego, vanity and disturbed children. i see the intestines coming out, the eyes blurred, 
the heart pumping blood, the ugliness of being me in my skin. i have let myself be led there,
and now i am there.
i am like the lizard, one second running with joy, the other dead.
i feel no love, not for me, not for others, not now.
it means  i don't know what it is anymore.
i can only feel joy and sometimes i can laugh without bitterness.
by now i cannot imagine that humans can live together nor that they should and 
the time when i felt to eat and drink with pleasure and share is approaching the same as to share a bed and physical intimacy is coming to an end.
i have nothing to say or preach, i have nothing to give.
i am not more than an unwanted child as we all are one time or another.
this means i don't know right now why i must be alive.
i learned to pass through frustration and hard times, so i can just be.
and hope i find inside what i need.
it is not here.
grace and mercy are most times more or less wishful inventions,
beauty and love misleading us to believe in eternity whereas they only show the freak moments of impermanence in the culmination of one kind of transformation in nature,
art is confusing us, religion burdens us with expectation to be 'another' kind
of being, 'super-human'.
nobody has to share this nakedness and this raw perspective.
even i don't know if i see what i see.
i am honest, so this is not about truth.
and it will not appeal to anybody who has found 'the truth'.
but at times one has to let all thoughts , feelings and perceptions flow
and accept their presence. 
weird as it sounds: i like to embrace Alice and be still-
and listen when she is still.


cannot write poems

i cannot write poems anymore, not now.
i see life as it is without any filter.
now i see no inner light to guide me
through the cruel nakedness of being.
i need love more than ever but it is a word.