To the Teacher: A Poem

I know, this is old stuff...

To the Teacher
18-Dec-05

Hello teacher,
hello friend.
Do you see this sword,
I clench within my hand?
Rusty blade,
stained with blood.
It was my sword,
my hand that has slain them.
Dead,
all dead.
Plunge into the dark,
negate negate negate.
Arjuna sits alone,
surronded by the fallen.
Lift my chin,
there you are.
Hello teacher,
where to next?
The Buddha is dead,
Jesus is gone.
Family and friends,
memories and dreams.
Dead,
all dead.
But then they move!
Plunge the sword downward again!
Neti neti!
Negate negate negate.
Teacher,
oh teacher.
Why won't they go away?
I just want silence,
I just need the questions to end!
Hit me with your stick,
knock me over the head.
Drag me to my feet,
and push me foreward again.
You just sit there,
watching me as I pace.
Teacher!
Tell me where to go!
Negate negate negate,
I can't take it anymore!
Silence,
I fall slowly to my knees.
Then you move,
you ask me, "Where is it that you're going?
You're here,
you're there.
Sit down,
negate negate negate."
A tear rolls softly,
down my cheek.
Sword within my hand,
climb back onto my feet.
Neti neti,
negate negate negate.
A cry in the dark,
metal swinging through the air.
Goodbye teacher,
you were never really there.
Neti neti,
negate negate negate.
A river of blood,
sweeps them all away.
Alone,
all alone.
Just Arjuna and his sword.
Teacher,
oh teacher,
I think about your words.
Neti neti,
negate negate negate.
All alone now,
or perhaps it's always been this way.
Just me,
and my sword.
Taking the hilt,
the fear has blown away.
All alone,
negate negate negate.
Thrust it in,
push through the flesh and bones.
I am the archer,
the dreamer and the dream.
Maya is my name.
No, I have no name.
There is no me!
Thank you teacher.
Neti neti,
negate negate negate.

The Rose: A Poem

Here's some teenage angst...

The Rose
25-March-06

Untouchable beauty,
poison tipped thorns.
So perfectly imperfect,
such is the illusion of the rose.
The purest picture of sin,
even Lucifer would fall to his knees.
The gates of hell never seemed so welcoming,
my own dark lord beckoning me home.
Raising my hand I offer one last sacrifice,
the rose.
Bathed in the blood of my past,
dripping with the tears that I've shed.
The wrists ache for the pressure of that blade,
calling, wanting, begging for this release.
Submission to that weakness,
contact, and I draw my lines.
How sweet this lust is,
how simple the addiction.
This pain coursing through me,
who said life was but a dream?
White hot horror,
all the universes are glimpsed within the shock.
An infinite number of infinities,
concealed within the rose.
I'll hide behind my fears and dreams,
my darkest desires and demons are the chains that bind.
Another nail in my coffin,
alone within this prison of my mind.
Such is the illusion of you,
the rose they lay upon my grave.

The Universe

We are so small

so insignificant

we are nothing compared to our universe