Buddha naked on the bed not waiting
for anything
or much of anything anyway.
I find that the blanket of bubbles floating in my temple
are sent up by the liars hanging out on every fucking corner.
I wonder if they expect these droplets to clean me?
Blowing bullshit to sway me, to clothe me,
to make me think they're not stealing what little cover there is.
or much of anything anyway.
I find that the blanket of bubbles floating in my temple
are sent up by the liars hanging out on every fucking corner.
I wonder if they expect these droplets to clean me?
Blowing bullshit to sway me, to clothe me,
to make me think they're not stealing what little cover there is.
The god damned light needs to be
brighter to see.
The rainbows that should present
themselves
shimmering on the skin of bubbles
are lost in the lack.
The humble have been jacked and
robbed
by the sons a bitches blowing the
damn bubbles.
Those thieves need to get naked too,
maybe inhale instead of blow.
White is not black, lies are not
truth, sickness is not health.
I could, I suppose put underwear on,
but all that I possess are holey no longer canonical.
The meek never saw lies and time coming for them.
They were rolled up in the dust and images presented as dogma.
This bedroom ain’t a temple to much of anything anymore,
de-sanctified by the heresy of lies blown in artless foam.
Many, too many, believe the blasphemy of the bubble blowers.
Gods made of stone, hear the petitions of wishes,
give wealth, give peace, send death, send revenge.
All prayers born aloft on bubbles of deception
told by them who market in misery.
Telling their fucking lies that time refuses to forget.
Join in, surrender to deception, accept power you will never see…
Buddha knows there is no reward for belief in a lie.
© M Durfee
11/30/19
but all that I possess are holey no longer canonical.
The meek never saw lies and time coming for them.
They were rolled up in the dust and images presented as dogma.
This bedroom ain’t a temple to much of anything anymore,
de-sanctified by the heresy of lies blown in artless foam.
Many, too many, believe the blasphemy of the bubble blowers.
Gods made of stone, hear the petitions of wishes,
give wealth, give peace, send death, send revenge.
All prayers born aloft on bubbles of deception
told by them who market in misery.
Telling their fucking lies that time refuses to forget.
Join in, surrender to deception, accept power you will never see…
Buddha knows there is no reward for belief in a lie.
© M Durfee
11/30/19
I'd share my crummy crumbs and my unholy undies with you anytime, friend Mark :) Much love as always. cat.
ReplyDeleteAs ever Cat the warmth you share is a comfort!
DeleteThis is a hell of a poem, man. The bubble and foam metaphor is agonizingly sharp, and every line is solid. Seriously good writing about seriously fucked up stuff, as ever your wheelhouse. A whole hell of a lot more people should read this, should more importantly, understand it--but what hope does cold truth have when there are warm little bubbles of lies to soak in.
ReplyDeleteThank you Joy. It would seem that as my body wants to slow the pencil gets a bit more pointed.
DeleteI love your reply to joy. a pointed pencil is easier to manage.
ReplyDeletemark, if ever we were troubled by lies in the first place, we've now traveled to a different universe. sometimes I'm surprised that my day to day life is still intact, although I know I share a blanket of orange malaise with at least (thank god) half the country.
it's a delight to see you back here. Stay a while, yes?
love
kj
It is a certain thing this fatigue with the reality created by them who have the organization to do such things KJ.
DeleteI am going to be more concise with the writing I think and when I find something that "clicks" in my head it'll be on here for sure.
No reward for belief in a lie...indeed.
ReplyDeleteThere are too many who are trying to squeeze out a benefit from following a lack in reality Jean.
Delete