Transmutation Riddles & Poems

26 000 Years

In the fading sidereal winter
The splinters work ever deeper
Into the grasping fingers

 

Did you get my message?

 

Martial Art

Fighting yourself
Is bad for your health
Subterranean wealth
Is discovered by stealth

 

Rejecter

I prefer fantasy
To my present reality
Until I quit
Living in these dreams
I'll continue to be ripped apart
At the seams

 

Spacephobic

Addicted to thoughts and feelings
No space for any healing
Up and down
Round and round
Chased by the hounds
Of self-obsession

 

Punching Thin Air

If we’re identified
With forty thousand daily arisings
Surely it’s not that surprising
To find ourselves being given a hiding
By the whims of the egos
Who mock our fighting?

 

Exorcism

The self-obsessed
Are possessed
Caught in a web
Of gathering dread
Seven deadly sins
Given their head
What’s it going to take
To finally break
The chains of identification?

 

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

When acting out
Who is the real object
Of adoration
The images or your self
The secret source
Of vexation?

 

Grasp

If our sense
Of a separate self
Is taking us into hell
Why do we continue to believe in it
Every moment strengthening
Its death-grip?

 

Countdown

The cult of willful ignorance
The temple of indifference
The church of skepticism
The worship of intellectualism
The false gods of the flesh
Leading us to death

Merry Christmas!

 

Addic-shun

If real happiness was based on
Sensual conditions
Then we'd be happy
In our addictions
So how can sensation
Bring true happiness ?
Isn't this idea a load of
Nonsense ?

Merry Christmas !

 

Choice

Do we prefer mechanical indulgence
In passing thoughts and feelings
Over placing our attention
On immortal awareness of being ?

 

Out With The Old

Addiction to sensations
Generating endless machinations
The road to liberation
From mechanical enslavement
Starts with self-examination

 

Death Wish

If the one that got us
Into this mess
Ceased to be
Wouldn’t we be freed
Of addiction’s need?

 

Serpentime

Centuries of weeping
Eight billion serpents sleeping
What secrets are they keeping ?
Why do we avoid meeting
Their eyes ?

 

Roots, Festering Roots

Let’s just admit it
Who do we worship?
This agonized, limited identity
Who has no permanent
Reality

 

Deep Dislike

Do we want a quick fix
Because of our laziness ?
Do we avoid searching
The abandoned goldmine
Because we're afraid
Of what we'll find ?

 

What Else Can It Be?

Why does this self crave ?
Why is it enslaved ?
Is it because it’s still divorced
From the infinite resource
Love?

 

Poison

Can the seven deadly sins
Take us to liberation?
Then why on earth
Do we keep feeding them?