Poem – The Road
This came to me in the car the other day and I grabbed my iphone and recorded it. imovie helped me add a couple of pics.
Wild Nights
WARNING: The language is direct and explicit and may offend.
From “Wild Nights”, by David Deida….
Relationship is bondage, unless your love is larger than the cult.
Love is a wound. Love hurts. You must learn to live wide open; hurting open with love.
If you are bound to objects – even people you truly love – then you suffer, because they can’t deliver what you want from them.
These boys, they’re going to fantasize about sex with young women for the rest of their lives. And by the time the ladies are saggy and wrinkled, and the men are too old to care, it’ll be too late. They won’t have the energy to open beyond their shriveled concerns for a better life. A day without too much pain will be good enough. And when they start dying, they’ll be horrified.
No-one is willing to feel the bliss of the Great One, because they are wrapped up in sex, or wishing they were.
I was using the affection and flesh that now surrounded me to pad myself from the stark free-fall of utter surrender, from the nothingness of deep, open being.
The feeling of tragedy dissipated, leaving only a deep love, wounded to be sure, but also eternal.
One day Michelle, your breasts will hang like soggy pancakes and your ass will sag to your knees. You’ll wake up in the morning, put your dentures in and paint your rotting face, and wonder which of your friends died today.
She’s not your mother. As good as her love feels, as war as her love fills your heart, you are clinging to the breast and missing the moment’s depth. You are afaid to feel totally alone – that is, so open there is no other. NO OTHER.
You need an other so you can be assured of yourself. And the one you want, the one that gives you the most assurance, is your mother. You want to feel her warmth, her smell, her support, her devotion to you – you won’t let go of that.
On the surface, it looked like he and his teacher were at war. But the war was always already over, and love had won, even if the fight continued to appear on the surface.
“You have been given a burden of bliss”, Mykonos said quietly, but with absolute intention. “You know what you have to do”. “This burden is my gift to you”.
It’s time to sit down and have dinner with the monster. (this one from David Holloway)
Poetry (I know, who knew?)
Special
Through clouded eyes
I have always been special
Standing taller than half the world
Yet shorter than the rest
A lonely height, indeed
No wit, nor speed, nor pain
Could match mine own
Superior, and broken, entwined
Yet now
With eyes wide seeking
Pain lashing me forward
I seem quite ordinary
As ordinary as a leaf
As ordinary as a stone
As ordinary as a rainbow
Prison
Prisoner of my own mind
How do I embrace thee?
Turn the cold bars white with love?
I shout at the wallsThe walls of my shouting
I wail at the lockThe lock of my hate
Loathing hardens the bars
In love, they shimmer and mist
If I loved my prison,
What then would I call it?Is it even mine
To worry after?
She
I starve for her so
I taste mine own hunger
Craving her sweet breath
Her shampooed hair, wafting
Through my brain
Dance free
Curve and sway
So I may be free
For I know not
Mine own dance
Come, nameless one
Complete me
For I was born yearning
Let me suckle at the breast
I never had
And walk, with blind eyes
Past the Divine
WaitingWithin
And swaying with every leaf.
Joy
What joy
To be aware
Cradled by the Universe
In a bed cloud
Or not
Delicious thoughts
My private TV
Serving me
Let’s start again
Hello, mind
I’m David, or not
Share your stories with me
Share your lives with me
Be just as you are (as if you could be anything other)
I’m listening now
Curiosity, a smile, replacing
blind belief
Making Love
Diving to the depths of being
Souls unclothed
Pulsing
Our racing hearts
thumping in stillness
Goddess
I began, as your teacher
A wise man,
with years to his name
A provider,
weighted by bags of gold
I alone held the key,
to the gateway,
of your pleasure,
and the way to opening
Teacher, banker, landlord, pimp
Master, and owner
And now, I find
through some whim of God…
My teachers cloak in shreds!
My years are as ash,
floating in the breeze by
your soaring wisdom
My gold lay in the gutter
as you glide past it,
in your own,
hard earned finery.
Pleasure is yours,
as it ever was
to claim and flow
Your body a temple,
where others
may drink and tithe
The chain of need smashed!
Shattered!
No longer, a reason to stay.
As you approached the oasis,
You saw your frailty
shimmer and mist.
A mirage,
nothing more.
You walk alone
A Goddess resplendent
Radiant.
I have no golden cuffs by which
to hold you.
No finery with which
to dazzle you
I stand before you
Naked
Without even body
I lay down my wit, my charm
my special stories.
Neither teacher nor student.
Not provider nor beggar
No tantric guru or exclusive…
exclusive…
anything.
All that’s left,
is me.
laid bare.
And now Goddess
With the world at your feet
And suitors flocking
I am astonished!
As I find you walking freely,
by my side
in the garden of not knowing.
I marvel
that you are here
And at last,
I see the true face
of love.
by David