Enlightening Nonsense

© May 9, 2012 by Swami X

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Two egos on the sidewalk

Coming at each other

From opposite directions

They walked the same line

One would have to move

 

But when they came together

Neither would budge

For to an ego

Holding his line is what is most important

Even if it means harming another

 

Words exchanged

Challenges were thrown

Fists were flying

 

One ego walked on

With a broken hand

Strengthened by the fracture

The other was knocked out

Relinquishing his stance

Only with unconsciousness

 

—–

 

One ego on the sidewalk

One non-ego

Coming at each other

From opposite directions

They walked the same line

One would have to move

 

The non-ego did

 

He had no place to hang

Anger or arrogance

Self-righteousness or indignation

He stepped off the line

Not because he was afraid

But because hard lines could not contain him

And maintaining this one held no importance

 

And while the ego felt stronger

For winning the battle

The non-ego felt no weaker

To him there was no battle

© April 22, 2012 by Swami X

 

 

I look at the scrapbook of my life

A heap of pictures and places and people

Strewn together in a sloppy pile

The storyline obscured

 

I grab individual memories

Hold them up to the light

Staring at them through aged eyes

Their color is faded

And they slip through my arthritic grasp

 

I am in an asylum

Because I no longer know which pictures are real

And which are make-believe

Which of these pictures I have taken

And which others have placed in my pile

Be they people or desires

 

The only picture that I can see crystal clear

Without the assistance of my reading glasses

Or an orderly

Is the one that I see when I look around my room

Even the cataracts that have clouded my vision of the past

Does not affect my view of the present

But I know tomorrow this memory will start to fade as well

That there is no preservative that will keep this photograph

This mind and body

From crumbling into dirt

 

I start to call the numbers on the yellow notepad

An accumulation of facts and figures

Taken from years of dredging through the darkness of my memory

Some of the phone numbers are disconnected

Others just ring indefinitely

I am not sure whether I copied them down wrong

Or whether they were just faded dreams

of girls who walked with me hand in hand

whose skin was soft against mine

That I awoke from

Staring at my empty palms

No longer able to remember how they felt

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And then I hear it

On the other end of the phone someone says,

“Hello?”

The voice seems modified from what my memory bank,

Whose savings has dwindled to nothing,

Remembers

A little shakier

Slightly lower in tone

Yet exactly same

As the girl I knew decades ago

or maybe just in my mind

She says she remembers

And her memory serves as proof

That I did exist

That I had walked on the beach

And left some footprints in the sand

 

She reminds me of things said

And people known

Deep in my pile of memories

That I would have never found without her help

 

I hang up the phone

With a smile on my face

I know that in a short time

I won’t remember the call

Already many of the memories she helped

Colorize like Disney

Have turned back to black and white

But for the moment I know

That I did exist

And this is the only thing that matters.

 

Soon like my memories

I will fade away too

The tides will come in and wash my footprints away

And the only proof that I existed

Will be in the fading memories of others

Until they too fade away

Wake from the dream

And start a new day

With no memories

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© March 25, 2012 by Swami X

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Each night I prayed to God

For some things needed

And some things not

And whether they came or were forgot

Each night I prayed to God

 

Each night I prayed to God

When she arrived

I prayed no more

She was my answer

The love of lore

To ask for more would be to rob

 

She arrived one day

Eating foods I ethically couldn’t

Imbibing drinks I socially wouldn’t

But soon I ate a few

And shared a glass of wine or two

Because I loved her more than dogma

 

She didn’t like my clothes

So soon I wore pants that were a little tighter

And bought shirts with buttons and a bit brighter

Losing my ability to bend with ease

And pull on a shirt simple as a breeze

Because I loved her more than clothes

 

She didn’t like how I introduced

With bowing hair

And deeply staring

So I moved my hand instead of head

And tried to blink more often then said

I looked away at random times

To show no faults for her to find

Because I loved her more than the opinions of others

I never thought that this would matter

But for her this made me badder

 

As a social misfit, I did not flatter

A prince, a jester

I was the latter

I didn’t live up to her desire

And soon of this she grew tired

Though few others it seemed to bother

 

One night I came to surprise

Used the key she gave me

And slipped inside

Sneaked quietly into her room

And saw her on her knees

Her prayer in full bloom

 

She asked for a little more “normal”

With a partner that didn’t embarrass

She mentioned girlfriends

Whose men had savings and suits not sass

Etiquette and a firm handshake

Who liked drinks and burgers

Who promised their women

More than just love

And an uncertain future

 

I slipped back out unnoticed

In a bit of a fog

That night was the first time

Since she came into my life

That I once again prayed to God

 

I prayed that He would grant her what she wished

That she would always be supported and never missed

Not embarrassed but proud

Whether he spoke softly or loud

For her to be finally happy and at peace

That she would own this love

And not lease

Because I loved her more than myself

© March 8, 2012 by Swami X

 

 

Suddenly a hand covers my mouth

And a blade slides under my ribs and into my kidney

His murderous embrace releases me

As a burning fire swells my back

And fogginess fills my head

My legs drain of their strength

To carry their cargo

And I involuntarily drop to my knees

 

I turn to him

And in cloudy confusion

Struggle with a single word

“Why?”

 

He looks at me in disgust of my oblivion and says,

“I’ve been following you for a long time.

You had to know I was coming”

 

Struggling to form words

To keep from passing out

My eyes gaze downward

As I witness tomorrow

Pouring out of me

Watering the earth

A crimson red

 

I look up at my executioner

His form framed in a halo of sunlight

“I…didn’t…hear you”

And he just stared at me incredulously

As my dreams

the book I was going to write when I finally got around to it

the girl I was going to marry when the timing was right

Drain from me like the color from my face

 

I thought I would squeeze out all my juice

When it was time to drop

be nothing but rind

ready to compost

But in a single moment

All items on my “To Do” list were crossed out

 

Left untapped

Ripeness turns rancid

Under the heat of a scalding sun

…which is now turning cold

 

Never heard him coming

 

© November 29, 2011

I try to sing my heart’s song

But I have forgotten the tune

And I only seem to remember some of the words

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I listen to the music of others

Seeing if they can inspire me

To find the musician

In the chamber of my heart

Playing his “chamber” music

Most of what I hear is just cheap imitation

Samplings of masters dead

But because these maestros are rotting in the ground

The music forever bound to them sounds rotten to my ears

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Hours on end

Days pass into weeks

I flip the stations

From country to rock n roll to metal

Searching for the one song that is mine

That sings my body

Makes it whistle down a nature trail like a flute

Overwhelming me with its musical fragrance

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But all I hear is a dull echo

Of a tune that is too faint to pump my blood

And put a skip in my step

And a smile on my face

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And life without music is a violin without a violinist—

Endless potential to fill the air with butterfly notes

But no wind song to carry them skyward

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcxYwwIL5zQ

(Zip-A-Dee-Doo Dah song)

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