PAWS Poem - Pleadings from Below

By yulamada · Apr 3, 2009 · ·
  1. yulamada
    Good days, bad days....or rather positive moments and desperate moments following heroin withdrawal and the journey to renewed balance.

    These words below formed by billions & billions of neurons hanging on by a thread. Quantified, objectified, by releasing them from the dimension of inner-space. It can be very scary, it can be wholly liberating. This collective firing needed to leave my own dimension of sentience. I expect others have felt similarly at times. You are not alone, we are not alone. Let the bad go, praise the good. I personally look forward to my future conscious literary expulsions to be on the brighter side. They will come in time, I know it.

    My earliest memories are of emotional self-defocation. I don't know why the negative pervades my mind so...yet it does. I find fleeting moments of joy, enwrapped with omnipresent grief. Why am I here? I feel everything, I feel nothing. Legions of me have opposed this indomitable force, but have fallen. The captain must go down with his ship, and this ship seems flawed by design. Sink it must, to rest finally in the cold depths - such manifest destiny, a query of me by divinity. I fight no more...I wish this just a dream, for I want not to wake in such a state.

    As a child I awake, an infinite canvas to which the greatness of life be painted....oh of this I dream, of this I yearn, of this I ask. I understand relentless sadness, please release me now from this lesson. I need to know unquestioning faith, unconditional love for this vessel. Of you I ask only this lord, be heart is pure.

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  1. Dickon
    No PAWS, only thought. No thought, just those embers that lie beyond. What once raged is calm now yet still burns.

    In images long since transmuted, forgotten or half-remembered, suffering-fragments, extruded by the spaghetti-machine of time into strands, knotted and coiled.

    Illusion wrapped within illusion. We tug and tighten, mistakenly thinking this will unwrap this knot. Instead we must throw and loosen. Throw the whole ball upwards to the sun-light.

    In the shards or reflected brilliance, moisture will soften the tangle in the belly, and things will loosen and slip away.

    A soggy net through which heart can breath. A luminescence of formlessness. I call-forth the ways of past and future, merged into a present now. A semblance of peace in exhaustion, agitation, and rage.

    Soft now. Claws curve, and must be dug out carefully. I will not rend this soft flesh any more. Austerity is no friend. Warmth and a flowering of friendships in the abandoned places of the heart, seedlings, a presentiment of a yet-to-come summer.

    Spring in PAWS. Pause, and don't retreat back to winter. Spring is hope. Hope is everything, widen and embrace the chance of life.

    [This has not been edited, just typed without much aspiration to meaning]

  2. yulamada
    Nice one Dickon, if that was off the cuff (and even if not), bravo - good words my friend.

    Writing, whether it be transforming hope OR despair into some physicality, can really help. Getting a black cloud out of mind and onto paper is very cathartic for me personally. Like when my head feels like its stuck in a giant 2 hour old bowl of oatmeal.
  3. Dickon
    Have you seen the "Smack the monkey hard" thread? I started that for just such catharsis for people going through w.d.s! I totally agree that writing can be a great help.

    Keep fighting the good fight

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