03-04-2013, 09:49 AM
First Revision
At Peace Now
I wander these slums
Imaginings
Past Happenings,
tripping
into pot holes full
of unworthiness
choking on guilt's stench
(It wafts in from Memory of what happened
mixes with smog of what I should have done instead).
Nerve impulses shoot here and there
destroying Peace over
dead rumors
unborn mistakes
Taking aim at imperfections
Keeping me up all hours
with barrages
of thoughts
built from steel emotions
that never tarnish and
refuse to fail
under the pressure of--
An idea!
To live in the Present
an overlooked place
its blueprint a line
simple yet divine
With only one choice:
Walk forward, focused.
There's no room to turn back
toward neighboring Past
No space to hang doubt
No place for future.
Yet it's so abundant.
Not overpopulated
with insatiable demands,
the Present is rural,
easy to miss amid the cluttered states
of mind.
So I pass it by.
But thank God for when I wake up there
by accident!
and thank God for when I find my way there
on my own,
able to fit perfectly
on the point where sea meets sky.
able to balance
upon a grain of sand.
able to lay
on the tip of a blade of grass
here in this vastly small universe
scattered everywhere for me to be
at peace now.
3.5.13
Original Version
Wavering between imaginings and past happenings
is where you'll find my mind,
and often neither place is kind.
My mind wanders into imagination's slums
trips into pot holes full of unworthiness
and inhales the stench of guilt that
wafts in from neighboring memory of what happened
and mixes with imagination's smog of what I should have done instead.
How do I constantly end up in this war zone
of nerve impulses shooting here and there
with no sense of decency to know they are
Destroying inner peace over a rumor
a misunderstanding
a mistake
Taking aim at me because I am imperfect
Keeping me up all hours of the night
with barrages of bullet thoughts?
Then these streetlights in imagination
blind me to the idea that I did anything right
in past!
My heart's eyes burn.
What a rotten place I've made
out of steel emotions
that never tarnish and
refuse to fail
under the pressure of a hammer
nailing a tiny idea
to live in the present--
To move to the present,
an often overlooked place
its blueprint a line
so simple yet divine
because there I would have no choice
but to walk forward and focused
without room to turn back
toward neighboring past
without space to hang portraits of doubt
without place for the perfect future
without attacks from the residents of past happenings and
imaginings...
without so much, yet so much richer.
Not overpopulated
with insatiable demands,
the present is rural,
easy to miss amid the clutter of neighboring states
of mind.
And I pass it by, this peaceful place.
But thank God for when I wake up there
by accident!
and thank God for when I find my way there
on my own,
able to fit perfectly
on the point where sea meets sky.
able to balance
upon a grain of sand.
able to lay
on the tip of a blade of grass
here in the present
this vastly small universe
scattered everywhere for me to be
at peace now.
Ok...so I know it's long and more prosaic than subtly poetic, but I still want to know what people feel from it (if anything). Thanks in advance!
At Peace Now
I wander these slums
Imaginings
Past Happenings,
tripping
into pot holes full
of unworthiness
choking on guilt's stench
(It wafts in from Memory of what happened
mixes with smog of what I should have done instead).
Nerve impulses shoot here and there
destroying Peace over
dead rumors
unborn mistakes
Taking aim at imperfections
Keeping me up all hours
with barrages
of thoughts
built from steel emotions
that never tarnish and
refuse to fail
under the pressure of--
An idea!
To live in the Present
an overlooked place
its blueprint a line
simple yet divine
With only one choice:
Walk forward, focused.
There's no room to turn back
toward neighboring Past
No space to hang doubt
No place for future.
Yet it's so abundant.
Not overpopulated
with insatiable demands,
the Present is rural,
easy to miss amid the cluttered states
of mind.
So I pass it by.
But thank God for when I wake up there
by accident!
and thank God for when I find my way there
on my own,
able to fit perfectly
on the point where sea meets sky.
able to balance
upon a grain of sand.
able to lay
on the tip of a blade of grass
here in this vastly small universe
scattered everywhere for me to be
at peace now.
3.5.13
Original Version
Wavering between imaginings and past happenings
is where you'll find my mind,
and often neither place is kind.
My mind wanders into imagination's slums
trips into pot holes full of unworthiness
and inhales the stench of guilt that
wafts in from neighboring memory of what happened
and mixes with imagination's smog of what I should have done instead.
How do I constantly end up in this war zone
of nerve impulses shooting here and there
with no sense of decency to know they are
Destroying inner peace over a rumor
a misunderstanding
a mistake
Taking aim at me because I am imperfect
Keeping me up all hours of the night
with barrages of bullet thoughts?
Then these streetlights in imagination
blind me to the idea that I did anything right
in past!
My heart's eyes burn.
What a rotten place I've made
out of steel emotions
that never tarnish and
refuse to fail
under the pressure of a hammer
nailing a tiny idea
to live in the present--
To move to the present,
an often overlooked place
its blueprint a line
so simple yet divine
because there I would have no choice
but to walk forward and focused
without room to turn back
toward neighboring past
without space to hang portraits of doubt
without place for the perfect future
without attacks from the residents of past happenings and
imaginings...
without so much, yet so much richer.
Not overpopulated
with insatiable demands,
the present is rural,
easy to miss amid the clutter of neighboring states
of mind.
And I pass it by, this peaceful place.
But thank God for when I wake up there
by accident!
and thank God for when I find my way there
on my own,
able to fit perfectly
on the point where sea meets sky.
able to balance
upon a grain of sand.
able to lay
on the tip of a blade of grass
here in the present
this vastly small universe
scattered everywhere for me to be
at peace now.
Ok...so I know it's long and more prosaic than subtly poetic, but I still want to know what people feel from it (if anything). Thanks in advance!

