"Outpour (Magic)" - Poem by BW Derge from "Paradox Locked" - written in 2017
Outpour (Magic)
Outpours the horrible madness,
The imagined dread
Comes from thinking the prison is the self
And then there’s nothing else,
Yet it should be known by now
That the body is but a vessel-
All consciousness is a single thing I think,
And the ego grows in the psyche
Like a rotten rose unable to subside
Unless drowned by the selfless realization,
The holy sensation frequently mistaken as God-
-
You are not the prison which contains the self,
You are not the name plastered across
Recent memory,
The vessel is a residual product
Of an unlikely series of events
Stretching across at least thirteen billion years,
Unimaginable blankets of space and time,
Atoms explode,
The spinning slows,
Allows the sowing of poisoned awareness
And here we are born to reap the benefits,
Euphoria or suffering constantly beckoning,
Take the shapes to allot breathing,
To allow a thought-
A taste of sadness, of joy,
Of release-
-
We ourselves are the cumulative universe
Itself,
And still, desire seeps through like toxic vapor,
Still greed and hatred blind curious stares
Unto murder;
Still passions get suffocated
By apathetic sadness
Rooted in the depressed state
Of a delusional life
Distracted by shiny lights since innocence,
A child’s mind-
The neon signs blinked
From spiritually sterile churches,
From corporate advertising machines
Spouting confusion
Like the thick black smog
From a factory’s cigar,
As uninterested schools do their best
To rattle restless souls
Into caring enough
To commit industrialized suicide
-
Or at least stay out of the way
As rainforests fall to thunderous applause,
Crush the limitless soul,
Shoved into a constrained box-
The shouts and howls of poets and mystics
Are muffled into whispers so you’ll miss them
Most likely,
But listen carefully,
There is beauty throughout the universe,
Even here, my dear, I promise,
There is magic that I cannot explain,
Which can’t be seen.
-
But for as long as a heart beats
Through the human demeanor,
The magic still exists, and it is worth seeking-
I promise.
Laws, dogmas, and gluttonous craving
Hold no bearing on this,
Those who wear blindfolds beneath a mask
Depicting open eyes,
They cannot see this, they’ll dismiss it,
Don’t believe them,
The truth is astounding, inside you, and alive-
-
You are not the prison containing the self,
You are the infinite soul within
Which lives inside us all,
Evading scientific organizations,
Reached for but sorely missed
By organized religion,
But possibly vibrantly alive
In a visceral work of art-
A painting,
A photo,
A poem,
A musical expression
Has the seldom ability to offer glimpses
Of what I speak
-
When the notes hit the eardrum just right...
When the words make perfect sense
On a calm night...
When the color of the canvas
Stabs beneath the skin
And the blood leaks all over the gallery’s floor-
You see the red real for the first time
And god, no.
How could I have been so wrong all along?
How had I become so convinced
Of my silly beliefs?
Those blasted blinding lights from so long ago,
When I should’ve just rowed my little boat,
Instead I let an awful monster ego grow-
It’s just a dream;
I should have known this all along...
-
Shapeshifting bodies rotate
Across consciousness
While the jars of clay perceive life and death
Full or empty with nothing in between...
You know what I mean?
We’re tossed carelessly
Into this capitalist pig’s machine,
A carefully designed, terribly built
Slaughterhouse
Chopping off our horns and wings,
Spray painting eyelids with black tar,
Trained to get aroused at the smell of currency-
Ignore the poor suffering, crank the gears,
Churn the spoked wheel of death,
-
Unending war,
Profits inspire the great institutions to murder,
Systematic genocide wipes out dissent,
You know what I meant?
-
But beyond all this
Lies a lonely spirit
Seeking simple bliss
And while for a second
He split himself in two
For an illusion of company,
Somewhere beneath the illusion,
As one spirit, he still sits...
You are not the dream you are trapped within,
You are not the mere prison containing the self,
Believe me when I say
That you are something else,
And the magic is real.
I promise-
"Outpour (Magic)"
by BW Derge
all rights reserved 2024 ©
Poem was originally written in 2017
