How can we be expected to "think outside the box" when so many of us have been categorized, neatly labeled, and perfunctorily "stuffed" inside one, and have little or no idea what "outside" is like?
The world is full of shapes
That have no place in nature:
Circles,
Triangles,
Rectangles,
Squares.
Circles are pointless;
The triangle
Is the only
Stable form.
Squares and rectangles
Comprise the obstacles
And set the limits
Imposed by the world
And mold the very shape
Of one's identity.
As POTUS he fled from Afghanistan
abandoning our troops in the sand
As VEEP he kowtowed to the Mullahs
sent billions to the sponsors of Hamas and Hezbollah
In Jerusalem today he lectured the Jews
when fighting a war for survival what to do
Israelis listened politely, perfunctorily clapped
wishing the POTUS would go take a nap
An unreflective bodhisattva
nods to the unwashed dishes.
Once again I seek a daily liberation
from a chore long boondoggled.
Next a phlegmy mantra
gummed through spongy lips.
I sleep, I wake. I sleep, I wake.
The mug is perfunctorily rinsed,
I am aware of not being aware.
Sweetness comes in pink packets.
The sacraments are torn open
two at a time with habitual practice.
The ceremony proceeds.
The percolator bubbles a last breath.
Maya burps its body-dreams,
I pour black oozing bliss
into my cup
where it settles like mud
beneath
a lotus bloom of aroma.
An unreflective Bodhisattva
nods to the unwashed dishes.
Once again I seek my morning
liberation by ways of a dark libation
Next a phlegmy mantra
gummed through spongy lips.
“I sleep, I wake. I sleep, I wake”
The mug is perfunctorily rinsed,
the stains of past desires
ring the rim like hungry ghosts.
I am aware of not being aware.
Ipso facto: I am aware,
but only in the cracks
between random thoughts.
Sweetness comes in pink packets.
The sacraments are torn open
two at a time with habitual practice.
A Zen-like work,
by rote and thought-free.
The percolator bubbles a last breath.
Like the Tathagata, I am truly gone.
An arm pours black oozing bliss
Into my mug.
A beatific smile
escapes from grungy features.
Primped, pampered pug Priscilla perused pate portion perfunctorily piqued
10/23/19
While attending a social do
You meet and greet others
It’s more a social norm
Than any ‘real’ connect
As you attend to calls
Or get yourself updated with ‘Updates’
Or simply fiddle with your phone
And mind you
You are not alone
Almost everyone is doing the same
Some listless bites of conversation
While chomping on the fare
And it’s time to take leave
But ironically
The same social do
Which you had so perfunctorily attended
Finds the pride of place
On social sites
And horror of horrors
You too find yourself
Engaged in mindless chatter
With the very same crowd
You didn’t much involve yourself with
Just a couple of hours before
In that crowded venue
The story is the same
Whether you are with friends, family or neighbours
The present moments are sacrificed
With ‘smart’ phones smartly severing you
From your surroundings
Ironically when face to face
No one has much to say
But there’s frenzied socialization
Every day
In the ‘virtual’ world
Leading to tch, tch
A 24/7 disconnect in the ‘real’ world.
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