By Will
The child is separated once again from its parent,
He gazes up through tears of worry,
Will someone pick him up,
Or is his death imminent,
What will become of the boy,
Without mindful caring,
His worst fears play on the big screen,
While crystals become warm in the palms of two.
*Poem dedicated to Peter Wilkin
Filed under My Experiences On The Couch
By Will
He spoke with hurt and I chose him, This unfortunate soul becomes ego’s friend, Father’s boundaries adhered never challenged, His patience tested on a radius of denial, Whose crib does he sleep that man in consciousness, All earthly answers lie creased under pillows, While the boy rides his bike with tendency to fall, Caught in sympathies yielding nest, Growing pains heard from mountains afar, Gods dream, ripped apart thorn by thorn, A man is born like a calf with unsound legs, Who now walks alone under his full moon. Only the wounded healer can truly heal ~ Irvin D. YalomFiled under Uncategorized
By Will
I lust not after the beauty in her heart, Her appetiser of passion served capable of burn, It’s debauchery making mockery of my true self, Like feeding salt to a man who is dying of thirst, Her new love prompting potent oral tradition, Satisfying mental images portrayed in a mind accompanied by crime, Queen of black lace eternally destroying light, Shadows learned through a child’s premature green eyes, Weeping and gnashing tyrannising thoughts, Lust is easy and love is hard. Of all the worldly passions, lust is the most intense. All other worldly passions seem to follow in its train ~ BuddhaFiled under Uncategorized
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