Archives For Philosophy

Magical Thoughts

December 9, 2017 — Leave a comment

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When I experience hurt

I indulge

In magical thinking.

Very annoying

For others,

Unfamiliar with the technicalities

Behind my tricks.

 

 

He or she

May say,

That “I” am mistaken in my observations.

But with the wave of

My magical thinking wand,

I create mystical anagrams,

And hey presto,

I pull a bunny

Straight out of

The top hat.

 

Sadly, the rabbits

Only live as long

As the delusion,

And I find it draining

When they keep coming along

Day after day after day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dinner

November 4, 2017 — Leave a comment

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Ode To Social Anxiety

 

Sitting opposite my wife

With my napkin

On my lap,

I gripped my fork and stabbed the duck,

Marinated in weird oriental sauces, so I thought,

Served with a smashed potato,

As I was crushed by an

Intensifying anxiety,

Aware (or thinking) that the two diners

At the next table

Were watching me.

 

My mouth was as dry as the skin on the bird,

My stare as steely as the knife by the dinner plate,

And the guy with the beard and glasses grinned

And whispered something to his wife

Who turned around

To look at me.

 

And I chewed on the meat that was as tough as nails

Between my teeth,

 

And I knew I was not only fighting a losing battle

With my culinary skills

But also, the people around me,

Who I knew,

Found my side profile odd,

And disconcerting.

That was the only explanation I could find.

 

We were on a ship and had no choice,

Our seats were allotted arbitrarily,

At the reception desk,

And my fellow diners, complete strangers,

Now had to contend

With my presence,

Having spoiled their evening

With my glancing and scanning

To see who was watching,

And guessing that they must be thinking

What I knew to be true,

Without validation.

 

I do look odd from the side,

So they say,

And the duck, was really quite tough.

When the diners had gone

I asked the waiter

“What was the sauce” and he said

It was  plum puree.

Plum.

Puree.

 

And the ship sailed along

As we finished our wine

A man sang a song

We were both feeling fine,

And the diners had gone

To their cabins to sleep

Outside there were stars

And waters so deep.

 

But I didn’t go back

The following night

To our table

Beside

The strangers.

The inherent dangers

Of projecting our fears

On each other

Can be put aside

Because

We will never see

Each other again.

 

 

 

 

Trap

April 3, 2017 — Leave a comment

Wandering between two points

With no other exit plan

Wondering if I 

Will ever see the light of day

Again

Even though

The sun is covering the earth

In sweet golden light

I am trapped between coordinates

I put in place myself

Over time.

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I try to think

Of happiness,

As a concept

Encapsulated in its own image.

And laughingly believe

I’ll be happy,

Just by bringing to mind

The thought,

 

That thinking happy thoughts

Would then follow

Without effort

And all would be well.

 

But happy thoughts only

Materialize ,

Not by concentrated effort,

But by avoiding,

All these wicked

People From hell.

 

 

 

 

Image from Beliefnet.com

Purposeless

February 27, 2017 — Leave a comment

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I woke up tired today.

Hot sweet

Expressos

In tiny white cups,

Stirred me a little.

 

But  lethargy,

And the heat,

And the crushing  humidity

 

Made me anxious,

Gave me palpitations,

Made me light headed

And confused.

 

I had no plans today

So I sat at a pavement café

Sipping expressos,

Staring at people.

 

And when the dehydration

Brought on

Panic attacks

 

I was no longer tired,

And even though

I had absolutely

Nothing to do,

 

I was terrified

And saw quick stars

And white lines

When I closed my eyes.

 

And I just cringed

At the thought

Of the nightmares

Just

Waiting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image from medical daily.com

 

 

 

 

No Card Needed

February 13, 2017 — 2 Comments

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My signature on a Valentine’s card

Will fade over time.

But the aching intensity

Of my love

For you,

Will never

Be destroyed

By moments.

 

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How much more can I take

From the weak, petty and jealous

Propping up their frail egos

By draining me

Of my peace

Of mind?

 

How will this end?

 

Their ego and character will sit unsteadily

On a dry faltering castle of sand

As my mind

Will become even more focused

And rid of the trivial,

Glowing like real solid gold

 

As the froth from the sliding ripples

Crawls

Towards an already

Shaky fort.

 

And the happiness

Drained from me

 

Was not enough

To save the castle

From crumbling

Back to the sea.

 

 

Doppelgänger

February 10, 2017 — Leave a comment

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Annoying neighbors, very intrusive,

Pry into my thinking process

(Whispers and rumors)

Because I stand alone.

 

I am not moved by windy whims,

Or current trends,

Or little lies

Or envy.

And don’t care if Jack

Bought a new lawn mower.

Or slept with one of his students.

 

I was born alone, 

Solitaire from dawn to dusk

But.

 

I do admit,

 

Any time the antagonism becomes

Overwhelmingly intense,

(Fortified by not knowing what I’ve done)

I step aside,

And conjure up a doppelgänger 

And hand it over.

 

I give him the racing brain,

And resentment,

The swirling fury

And anything else

I don’t need,

To get through the day,

And bid him farewell.

 

Though I must warn you, 

Bumping into this other personae

Would not be much fun for anyone.

 

 

 

Image – SPIE Digital Library

The Fisherman’s Jug

February 9, 2017 — Leave a comment

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The oak table in the corner, sturdy and solid,

Under the candelabra ,

In the farmhouse,

A cracked jug on top.

 

With other kitchen accruements

Laid out neatly

By the stove,

The plates and tankards

Strung on the wall,

It’s easy to ignore

The cracked jug.

 

Most visitors were apathetic

Regarding the unglazed vessel

That had been left

By an old fisherman.

 

Even the new tenants

And their friends

And families

Dismissed it

As aesthetically spoiling.

 

And the old fisherman

Who once lived there

Knew what it was like

To be ignored

And untouched

And unloved,

 

Saw the blemish on the jug

As a scar

That defined the jug

A perceptible imperfect mark.

 

So before he died

The old fisherman

Dropped a large pearl

Inside the jug

And left it there.

 

When he was gone,

And when people came by the farmhouse

They ignored the dirty old jug

Sitting alone;  like the old man

Would sit alone,

Not realizing that if they looked inside,

They would see the real beauty

The true value,

And their lives could have been changed

Forever.