Citta (Poem)

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Joined: Wed May 08, 2013 6:54 am
Location: Virginia, USA

Citta (Poem)

Post by Jesse » Tue Jun 13, 2017 11:19 pm

Sorry if this poem is offensive to anyone. I wrote it while in a really bad mood. I think it reflects that fairly well. It is also not aimed at anyone.
It's also a stream of consciousness poem... so it's really bad. :rolling:

what is my mind, ill never know..
It's just a dream, a fiction, and a fantasy
this worlds lost in the haze of greed, selfishness
whats ravaged is the soul

I pity this world
a shared dream that they can never awake from
an illusion like the shadow of candle flames
dancing behind a closed curtain.

Never able to see past their deluded mind,
always taking out their angst on people
who do not deserve it.

What good is a world that has abandoned compassion, and decency..
in exchange for the pure lust of status, vanity, self-righteousness,
to further solidify their dreamed identity into something
that makes them feel real, makes them feel powerful, and in control.

I hate this world, and I reject your shared hallucination.
Does this make me insane? Does it make me evil?
That I refuse to recognize authority?
That I refuse to recognize your bullshit selfish rules,
and this game you have invented?

This game where the goal is power, possession, stature
I frak refuse to accept your reality.

I do not recognize your imagined importances,
your overachieving selves, reaching for immortality,
while pushing away what's real, and what really matters.

and each passing moment brings us all closer to the reality I inhabit,
where nothing exists except for what you decide to imagine is true,
where each passing moment brings us closer to annihilation,
and in that annihilation, I hope to be totally freed..
because, you all, have made this world a frak nightmare,
you bath in it, frak in it, relish it,
like eating shit, and sucking up your own vomit
all while believing it's the best thing ever.

You are all clowns.
Very indicative of my own imagined self-importance, it's kind of funny to just write down what comes out of the mind sometimes.
Oh-well, I hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable to read. :rolling:
The cost of a thing is the amount of what I call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.
-Henry David Thoreau

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