Prose Poem: Athens Spleen ‘017
“This is the greatest happiness –to subdue the selfish thought of ‘I’.” (Shakyumani Gautama Buddha)
I wish I could I speak of it in terms doctors office readers of Psychology Today could understand, but even in 800 BCE it was hard enough to open the oyster shell of selfhood Vedic Brahmans thought theirs alone.Still do they just cover themselves in mud and forget Obscured by Clouds was a Pink Floyd album. This ‘I’ that has never been theirs alone yet claim to see into as if inner clones of Rimbaud’s barnyard wizardry. Be gone. Your space is wasted enough already. Let us open a new life, one that has no claim and no need to steal and fear what is that most precious of things: the words, the sentences, the cadences of those much better just hidden away, the love of thought, the love tea wrought, the love suspended above while thieves ravage the house looking for what’s left to walk away with pretend he was never here at all; and like Howlin’ Wolf you whistle by this graveyard glad you were never found out, glad the first six months of ’17 are gone. So Buddha knew. He was devoted to over come this ‘I’. Why did it occupy him so much? Because it is the greatest weapon of the dark one left in that vein and vessel stitched bad of tricks.
“If only the thoughts he directed to that which is right, then happiness must necessarily follow.” (SGB*)
If only I could speak of those who see a smile and find it offensive and name them for who they are if not to say ‘hey, there you go there you jargon king,go take go and don’t forget to kill what grew higher than you ever could could out of struggles and open graves you were too afraid to go alone’