Tall apologies...

I don't apologise for the fact of my poetry. At its best it is life distilled into words. At it's worst it is merely an expression of existance and that can never be wrong.

Attachment leads to suffering. A lack of attachment leads to alot of of time and money on hands, seldom is either spent wisely and all ends back in attachment and suffering.

Through it all

Blithering about the front room in the middle of the night,
As I do, uncouth. I cut a familiar school boy jib, but now I am rid,
and it's back to the beginning. Through it all,
I don't care for any of the pain or trouble anymore,
I just miss you, you've been gone from my life too long.

So, I'll see everything as new,
whatever my gaze should land upon.
Admire difference in all things,
each time my attention is drawn.
Change and karma are constant,
Enjoy their endless plenty,
for they are all that we have forever.

My life status? Quagmire

a long distance friend sent me an email... before they signed off they said this:
>Lemme know ur status in life, haha.

I've got to say I struggled to respond but when I did it seemed relevant to here:

Overall I'm doing ok - I suppose. I swing between shades of Charles Bukowski and the Dalai Lama. The inherent madcap nature of which can leave me a little highly strung. In short my maverick twenty-something tear up the rails (rather than go off them) life is keeping my brain busy and getting me by - but not bringing any real success in life's measurables - love, wealth, happiness, longevity etc. May be I expect too much and don't work hard enough... most days I'm happy getting by, living life one breath at a time, yet letting none be wasted. I guess that is my status in life.
Here is the reality (it's worse):
It's thick full, intense pulls in a myriad of directions and engulfs anything misfortunate enough to wander too near by. That is just the hair on my head and face, let alone the quagmire of shit that my life has become since others dropped me from a great height and my own brain allowed my total consumption/surrender. Nothing is getting better and try as I might I care for all things less and less. Interestingly though, it is domesticity that suffers most when I'm depressed for long periods - so I'll go have a tidy up - just to focus the brain for a night of insomnia.

Eastern European barmaid

Born in land locked Europe -
you shine behind English oak.
I read your name and though you'll never know mine,
sometimes you remember the drinks I like
or ask how I am with a smile of recognition.
Yet the next day I'm another barfly, alone, uncouth -
You work dressed in black and your quality avoids my eyes.
Instead they see your narrowed nose,
with it's mask of subtle cheeks and chin lost -
there is your tease for greed - intentness on gain,
yet, eager to be seen as exploited.
Happily appeasing eyes as long as they buy,
funding wages and way outs from wherever.
You pour me my ale when I pay you -
perhaps it's best we leave it there.