Drunk with Pain [Poem]

I stumble and stammer
all night in the rain,
tripping into puddles,
I'm drunk with pain.

Teardrops and raindrops
are now coalesced,
How can I be happy?
I'm no longer blessed.

I ventured far, so far,
and escaped my home-nest.
And after all of that,
I failed my initiation quest.

I sought Sacred Knowledge,
but received a Guru's wrath.
Worst of all is knowing this:
I'm astray on the inward path.

I am filled with deep horror,
as I look at the depth of my vice.
They are innumerable, I know.
To redeem myself I'll pay the price.

Thinking:
"in just a few days
There'll be another tragedy
Will all of my hopes,
ever escape grief's gravity?

Has all of this
made a permanent toll?
For the rest of my days,
will I just be a broken soul?

For my youthful dreams
have all at once evaporated.
My passionate ideals,
are, by reality, humiliated."

I cry:
"How can a romanticist,
like me, live without dreams?
I want to imagine anew.
I don't have it in me, it seems.

Oh God, what is the cause of this?
Can I please just blame fate?
Did I make a grave mistake?
I'll never know. That, I hate!"

My anguish reaches its apex,
as the rain begins to clear.
It's just a twist in this life story,
I sense a new chapter's near.

I know this life is a journey.
I know my adventure will continue.
I know I will keep on Truth seeking,
I know I have to, for me and for you.

Love is Like a Weed [Poem]

LOVE IS LIKE A WEED [POEM]

In the Garden of emotions, 

Love is like a weed. 

When you see it, say:

“This, I don’t need”.

Now, kill it, swiftly,

before love grows and grows!

Or else you will be

under love's maddening throes. 

Ascetic logic will guard you

from cupid’s heart-arrow. 

A passion enjoyed today, 

is regretted in the morrow. 

The dances and songs of lovers!

These are just so many illusions. 

So happy alone I will always be,

that is my ultimate conclusion. 

Now, look at this one here, 

she is pretty, she seems nice. 

But does she have the power,

to ignite my heart of cold ice?

No, no! I shall chase no further

I will not get entangled once more

in Romance’s spider web,

for then freedom will be done for. 

Truly, truly: I have belief in God(s). 

I believe there are afterlives and souls.

But there is one thing I do not believe:

earthly love that can make me whole.  

Advice from a Disciple on the Artists Path [Poem]

Of the arts, I practice most the art of the word,

either written like stories or spoken in theatre, 

or both, for in poetry the read/speak line is blurred. 

I am a humble disciple on the path of creativity. 

Let me tell you of some insights I have gathered. 

First: Never give up, and desire progress intensely, 

for no artist who was weak or lazy ever mattered. 

With that out of the way, let me speak of inspiration...

For mortals, inspiration is like a bug:

It creeps up when you least expect. 

It doesn’t come if you try to tug

or yell at it to do what you want. 

Inspiration is a great light divine

that flashes and thunders within. 

All Art is never yours or mine 

For it belongs to the gods alone. 

But artists need not live and toil,

under the whims of capricious powers. 

Ego is always the artists’ great foil, 

one free of it receives creativity's fire. 

Truly: The mind is like a bowl,

and a mind already full of itself,

and the consciousness of goal, 

cannot be full of the gods’ gifts. 

Self-Forgetfulness is the secret of the Master.

Therefore, cherish it and the things that cause it,

seeking them will help your art progress faster.

This is advice from a disciple of the artists’ path. 

The self is easily lost in experiences of great suffering or bliss, 

in boredom or novelty, talk or silence, love or loneliness, 

synchronicities or chaos, Nature, and Death. Got this?

And also: In experiences of invincible determination or in surrender. 

At last my final piece of advice:

Absorb the works of other artists, 

whatever your art, any will suffice. 

Learn and be nourished by them. 

For what goes into the mind, 

must also go out of the mind. 

So if art goes in, art comes out. 

And finally: To everyone, be kind. 

May this poem fulfill it’s good intention, 

and may it glorify the Supreme Creator,

we are just Little Creators seeking ascension. 

Cheerfulness and progress to all artists! Aum.