The Poet, Philosopher and Psychologist

Simply reflecting upon prior written entries, whether it be journaling or poetry, can and will, give you insight to not only your state of mind at the time, but as to why the present of current events have occurred – this is only if you are true to yourself and your feelings when writing; this takes the practice of mindfulness and applying it while consciously observing your ego. You do not have to be a writer to write – this takes no talent other than the innate drive to better understand our human condition and beyond it.

For those who know me, I write at least 1 poem a day as a creative exercise. When I go back to these entries, to these daily prayers and observations, it’s a time-machine – and though at the time, they may be how I was feeling in that moment, on that day, reflecting upon them later, analyzing my words a little more in depth, during tragic events: a relationship ending, a death, a painful memory – these are all steps to observing the conditioning of your mind, of your ego; you can see your True Self and also your False Self (the egotistical drive) – it takes practice to distinguish between the two but it is very attainable. The simple way to differentiate between them is: your True Self arises from nothingness, it is pure presence and awareness, it observes the ego and feels the emotions it needs to feel, without attachment, letting them pass by (however long it may take), and being at peace with this; it embraces suffering – it’s going with the universal flow no matter how painful or uncomfortable. This does not mean passivity; this is simply just being – when “just being” you can feel what you are intended to feel without trying to escape or rationalize it. The False Self is ego driven, it casts judgement, blames and attacks anything and everything to justify its own means, it’s self-righteousness; it can also be a reversal, in the form of “the victim” complex, thus expecting others to feel pity for them, resenting others for what they have and what they don’t have; it is envy and it is the core of unnecessary suffering – the ego generates elaborate stories to which we choose to identify with (even if they’re not true!), to keep us compliant in our masochistic purgatory. Though, the ego, if used correctly, our conditioning, our ego-driven ways, can and may be used to propel us to our own greatness and awareness, while becoming an extension of all, relating to all, while remaining one: a compassionate individual. When people ask me “How do I become aware? How do I become present?” I tell them to take a deep breath – it’s in the breath; there is nothing complicated about this unless you want it to be.

In expressive writing you can blatantly see between your True Self and False Self; you can also see the ego of those who you are intimate with; depending on the closeness of the other being, their influence can be greatly seen and heard in your writing. I shall lead by the following example: the ending of a relationship is a tragic one, when you lose your soulmate, when you lose your best friend, when you lose your confidant, it can be incredibly painful; that is, the separation of the souls – the deterioration of the relationship or kinship. To show insight to the statement, I’m going to provide daily poetry that I’ve written over the course of months; this will give an accurate ride of emotions and events from the past-present moment, to the now reflective present-future moment that I speak to you from.

Being in a genuine relationship, with any human being, family, friend, partner, we begin to pick up on each other’s neurosis and habits; we know each other’s motives, deepest fears and even are energetically in tune to their emotions. Humans can even detect the emotions of strangers upon meeting them when they walk into a room, not so much about making judgments upon the character but you can feel either the darkness or the light upon the person – again, this is only if your intuitive drive is present and aware, but also, sometimes we are easily deceived compared to animals – they have the strongest detection of the qualities of a human being.

Once we discover our partner’s ego, their fears and insecurities, we take them on as our own while not being too poisonously attached to them (wishfully); if we’re aware and working towards growth, we try to shine light upon the toxic ego, to both our neurotic nature and fears, we build off of each other, thus bettering each other. In our culture we’re never present and we’re often stricken with the “Want and Need More” disease: “I want more, I need more, I’m not happy until I get more, what happens if I don’t get more?” This is a venomous disease and a slowly consumed poisoned that will eventually bury you; “If you chase after money your heart will never unclench, if you seek others approval then you will forever be their prisoner,” Lao Tzu couldn’t have spoken better words. This constant need of change in the name of materialism and fear isn’t the nature of our True Self; we choose our passion, we choose what we love, we implement structure and become masters, ever-evolving masters, developing ourselves not based on society’s expectations or artificial creations, but only our own. Though the success of some crafts that we choose end up in superficial fame and social status due to the nature of the path, these are not our motives and are simply more distractions to our selves, but at the same time mass influence is in our hands, thus we, as artists, work to make mass influence irrelevant and then simply arises mass admiration: in ‘mass admiration’ there is no dictatorship, there is only mutual respect upon the artist and his admirers; the job of an artist is to evolve culture by evolving himself, it is to subtly, and at times, satirically forcing interpretive material based upon his or her belief system; a system that is unique and their own – and though it seems to go against society’s breed of conformity, it is an extension of who we all are and what we can become: our own best Self, a creative genius among the masses that eradicates worship. Societal tendencies and conditioning have us living in fear of what we genuinely can become if we follow the Laws of Nature, the only laws set into literal stone, growing like a flower; without impulse, using the natural necessities around us to grow – food, light, water, soil; and then on occasion, decaying with the seasons and then re-growing: there is always time for regrowth.

We subject ourselves to unnecessary suffering, to things that aren’t even really there, stories that may never even happen, and these things, these toxic patterns of thought, we consciously choose whether or not to become a prisoner to them – it’s an endless circle of pure sadness and a lack of fulfillment. We let the material world dictate our motives when really our natural motives are unstoppable forces if we just sit for a moment and let ourselves be aware to them.

 

I fear the flame choking,

I foolishly keep falsely hoping;

I fear the simple things

Will never be the same,

I fear you forgetting the ring of my name;

I’m generating stories

Out of jealousy and fear –

Seconds, minutes, hours;

I’ll always be right here.

 

In this re-worked poem, I articulate my ego and the constructed stories that I tell myself to torture me unnecessarily: foolishly keep falsely hoping and I fear you forgetting the ring of my name, were added recently to the original poem for this entry and for my future book – they were too beautiful to omit, despite a raw, unworked poem, is interesting to the reader, this is the finished product that you are looking at (omit those lines if you want the original). These poems were written long before the demise of the relationship but also on the brink of reason.

 

I’ll enjoy you

While I have you,

Whether it’s limited time

Or forever,

I’ll always love you

And cherish our times together.

 

This is a gratitude affirmation while the ego of potential loss runs in my ears and evokes my deepest fears – I reflect on how truly grateful I am for this person to come into my life, and though I fear losing them, I tell myself that I will always cherish what we had, to keep myself sane and protected.

 

Fixating on the future

Can most definitely

Bring the end;

It can destroy a relationship

And cause quarrels with your best friend –

What’s meant to be will be,

Just stay true to the present –

The world will unfold

As it will,

No need to worry,

Let the ocean fill.

 

This poem is the observation of the ego, again, in the form of the “want and need more” disease on my counterpart’s behalf, and I not feeding into my own deeply rooted insecurities but alleviating them through attempted awareness of myself and my partner’s. Throughout my daily poems, I see the neurotic and repetitive nature that comes up in the human condition and the relationship, whether it’s mine or my partner’s; it’s blatantly there and repetitive – what we tell ourselves outlines our map.

 

Gullible little girl,

How easily persuaded;

Gullible little girl,

Your truth is always evaded –

One day you’ll learn,

It’ll be your turn;

Possessions are fire –

Completely free yourself

Of superficial desire.

 

Here, we have a commentary on materialism and self-torture through the need of possessions, this fixation constantly arises in the poetry timeline. Our inner thoughts fuel what we become and this becomes prevalent. These next 2 poems follow the inner lust and beauty towards all women, the fear of, and observation of, infidelity, but then inserting the love and appreciation of my counterpart, justifying my faithfulness due to my pure and loyal love. I could have easily been feeding off my counterpart’s thought process as well, feeling what they felt – but I chose not to be attached, or act upon it, instead I just merely observe it.

 

I’m lost within myself,

You, me, and no one else,

I’m exhausted of this illusion –

This paradox of passionate confusion;

I have all the beauty in the world,

But I wonder why the others make my head swirl;

My heart melts

And skips a beat

To the shadow of a girl that I once knew.

 

Your perfect beauty,

My other half,

An intoxicating aroma

And a melodic laugh;

Why do I seek more?

What do I fear?

The love of a woman –

The holiest fear.

 

This next entry is my consciousness reaching out to my best friend that passed away; I drive down the green road that she loved and preach my fears and look for words of encouragement through her and Nature, which to me, are one in the same.

 

Soaring down the

Green covered road,

The wind sings

A familiar tune;

The sound of your voice

Whispers in my ears –

The pain of losing you

Never disappears,

Hours to hours,

Years after years.

 

I then immediately go into a justification of my partner’s character, what thrills me the most:

 

You light up,

It’s your passion that thrills me,

I’d give all of it to you,

A heavenly duty;

I’ll share all my wealth

With the ones that fill me with beauty –

A rainbow forest

And an endless duty.

 

This is the peak of separation between two souls, a disconnection between the one of the two characters; I then cling to a new partner, the origin to all things, I dive heavily into Nature to remind myself of my Self.

 

When the night bird sings

The artist rings,

Ideas of reality

And a fantasy kin;

When it rains it pours,

Not drinking is a sin –

A thought is just a thought

And one cannot be bought.

 

When the night sings

The artist rings –

In the shadows

Lurk genius things –

I’ll embrace your chaos,

Not by chance –

My lonely words

Will like this dance.

 

I begin to embrace darkness, as usual, but in this metaphor, I predict the tragedy of the insecurities that lay inside me – though, now, I don’t identify them as insecurities because of the outcome – because of the end of all ends.

 

The kiss of death,

I wonder what’s left;

The familiar voices

And those haunting choices.

 

I’m reminded of the pain of heartache through other past scarring memories and life events that have ensued prior.

 

He doesn’t sleep,

He doesn’t eat,

He craves excitement

Beneath the sheets;

The hours I call

And the moon,

It falls –

The creative’s hour

Is a silent power.

 

Here, I seek passion from my partner but find myself falling in love with my art, due to the lack of love and attention from my counterpart, I flock back to what is always there, whenever and wherever I desire it to be – I then in sooth reach back to my Self. I continue to have this great affair with my primary being, Nature and my art, I cling to it because deep down I know what’s coming – and I also know what’s been lacking in my relationship. I always write about Nature and Death in order to repetitively ground myself and to shed perspective, but the gravitational pull to the subject matters are ever-so strong as the end approaches. I repetitively embrace death, life and my art.

 

A walk through the graveyard

At night will make you feel alive,

Through the quiet streets

The technicolor thrives –

I dream for them to see me

Yet most don’t know my name –

The world’s interchangeable

And it’ll never be the same.

 

I describe what lies before me due to my innate nature to become my best and an ever-evolving master of my passion, of my craft, while unknowingly predicting the suffocation of a flame, thus being my relationship.

 

As I lay

And reflect upon death,

I close my eyes

And think what’s left –

Day after day,

Year after year,

If my tears could rebuild you,

I’d have nothing to fear.

 

I continue to predict the end of the relationship while seeking for help and comfort from my passed away loved ones.

 

I love you, dark sky;

Your precious stars,

Your shimmering eyes,

It’s beyond words –

If I could grow feathers

I’d fly like a bird.

 

Why so much pain in this world?

Why so much hurt?

Why do flowers bloom

And then wither into dirt?

It’s unanswered,

A mystery.

 

I continue to become one with nature, embracing it, finding a new soulmate:

 

The night owl

Thrives when no one’s alive –

He hungers for courage

While others shuteye.

 

You glimmer

Beyond the trees,

But soon,

A clear view

Of the oceanic seas –

Your beauty is rare

And I’m in awe of you;

You’ve grown so full

That I can almost reach out

And touch you;

You shed your beauty for more life –

I miss the wavering red leaf,

It has subtly kept

My mind at peace;

Another season comes

And another season goes –

It’s only a matter of time before

Everyone knows.

 

I reference a ‘wavering red leaf’ in the memory of my best friend, while again reflecting on nature and our synergistic bond, while chanting upon my success that lies in the present moment and to the infinite moment. In the next entry I feel the flame of our relationship finally flickering, barely breathing; oxygen is becoming scarce and I maniacally search for my long lost soulmate. During these days I woke up with pure angst, pain, internal conflict, unknowing that it wasn’t even my own; I was experiencing the disattachment of two souls, unwillingly on my behalf.

 

Staring into the black abyss,

A silent soul

While all is missed –

I seek the light

That I can’t find;

A lucid prisoner inside my mind –

A precious memory

Is all that’s left of me;

Don’t shed your tears

You’ve had the best of me.

 

I’m speaking unknowingly upon my partner’s pain, and the memory that I’m going to become, while knowing that I will be left alone, staring into the dark abyss, while she is heavily missed – knowing that I did my best.

 

You flicker for me

To keep my going,

You whisper to me

To keep my knowing;

You sing to me as

The wind blows,

You call to me

As the day goes –

Every time I look to the clouds

I think of you –

The beautiful pillow-like white hue

Reminds me of what’s simple

And ever-so blue.

 

I keep reaching to the spirit world, nature and inside my own heart, to speak to the forever-living ember of life.

 

The day that I was born

Was the day that I died,

It was the fear of losing you

That I’d forever confide –

Before I was human

I had so much more to give,

Before I was human

I had never lived.

 

I continue to search for my long-lost partner and flee back to darkness and nature while inserting familiar sayings and memories into the body of the poem, attempting to keep our flame burning in my mind, in her mind:

 

I’ve swam for miles

In the milky sea,

I’ve searched the vast

For you and me;

I’ve lost myself in the sun,

I closed my eyes

And had my fun.

 

I continue to remain blinded but I keep searching for us, in the universe, just seeking for something to be alive, any little part of what was left.

 

A drizzled breeze,

The midnight streets

Are all asleep,

Not even a sound

Or a silent peep –

The night flies

As time shuts down,

Glistening streets

And a crescent moon frown;

I say what comes to my mind,

Unseen in nature

But blessed in due time –

It falls around me

But there’s nothing to fear,

The world is my oyster

And the shucker is here.

 

I then become more and more fearful as the pain in my gut is too much to bear, I give peace to the situation and go with the flow, but I feel it heavily due to the inter-connectivity and the attempted separation of that:

 

I’ll love you forever

I cannot let you go,

Time is of the essence

And I’m inclined to let you know:

I feel you all around me

But the weight can’t seem to free,

It’s dragging me down and cannot let me be –

A desolate land

In the palm of my hand;

An iron fist

And an iron man.

 

“I feel you all around me,” speaks upon the energy of my best friend, even with her help, I can’t shake this feeling, this feeling is only to be overcome by the chain of events that will ensue post-heartache.

 

Another page filled with rage,

The prolific poet

Knows no age –

I sit up late

Reflecting what’s “right” –

Freeing myself

With all my might.

 

I continue to observe the pattern, the fears of my ego; my soul feels the change but I still cling to the present while being tortured by stories that I don’t even know to be true – but my true gut does: my soul, my heart, it beats differently.

 

The more time you spend,

The more time we end,

I’ve lost love before,

A toxic heartache

I can’t adore –

An insecure nightmare,

A stupid chore –

My toxic thoughts,

I can’t anymore.

 

I speak upon the toxic world my partner chooses to be in, I fear her becoming a prisoner to it. I still observe my ego but I’m so identified with these painful thoughts that were actually more than just thoughts; they were boundless feelings.

 

I’ll always love you

Until the day I die –

Precious angel,

Spread your wings

And fly.

 

I begin to reflect upon prior pains, though none can compare or be compared. I’m very scared as the ripping of the soul ensues, but I continue to blindly hear it as the internal chatter of my ego.

 

Oh how I’ve loved

Too many times to count,

I’ve wept for days,

I’ve screamed and shout –

I’ve longed for years,

I’ve shattered the mirror

And wiped up my tears.

 

The grey clouds move in

And all is silent –

My thoughts are a purgatory

And sometimes violent –

When it pours

You will keep sane –

Can you deal without sunshine?

Can you suffice the pain?

 

I continue to rediscover my individuality, my solitude, as I unknowingly prepare for the great loss of love.

 

The world is a beautiful place

And I see it for what it is –

The shining stars,

The chirping birds,

The silent voices,

The whistling words;

I see this world so differently

From the rest –

I strive to be an individual,

I strive to be my best.

 

Finally, I call out to my partner for passion, I beg of her to touch me, to love me:

 

I crave your touch,

I want you,

I want to taste you,

I want to devour

Your pink luscious hills

And bottomless ocean that kills –

The curves,

The smooth words,

A gentle lullaby

Lured with the birds.

 

And after not receiving the mutual passion and compassion, I immediately dive back into nature:

 

In the stars

I’ve found my way,

A midnight blanket,

I’d like to stay;

In your beauty

I’ll live for years,

Without a touch,

You ground my fears –

Writing in darkness to your light;

I fear nothing,

There’s a way in sight.

 

That was the night prior to the final detachment of two souls. I unconsciously know what is to happen, so I look to the sky for comfort, I look to the universe with my art as my only partner. I reaffirm that I can overcome anything and everything and I shall always find my way; both in Nature and writing in pure darkness with my only tool – it is the light that is truly dark, and I use it in order to survive, in order to grow: I bleed and write with my blood.

Days later, as I now know the ghost, I write to the primary cause of suffering and the reason for the loss of our partnership while remembering the feelings of neglect and now realizing that it wasn’t my ego and insecurities, it was my counterpart’s:

 

The end is here,

And though you’re near,

You’re inexistent

And barely here;

You think the future applauds you,

When really it only flaws you.

 

I’ve written several after that, but the rest will be in my next book of poems. The practice of self-awareness, separating yourself from your neurosis while reflecting back upon truthful entries of daily entanglements, Life’s happiest moments and its supposed worst, will give you perspective and a blueprint back to your Self – it’s a map to your true nature and to what may have happened or what has already happened. If you truly work to be present, which actually takes no work at all, you can observe and see things the way they are meant to be seen and observed, like a nondual television show that is only the entertainment of your mind; you cannot stop it, you can’t control it – you can only watch it and let it unfold as it will. But you can always talk to the TV and tell it how you feel; though this doesn’t mean the narrative will change but it’s worth a try if you can sleep an ounce more peacefully at night.

I write to a ghost several times a day and I mourn the death of a soulmate. If I was to see this person that looked like my great love, I would cry – not because it’s them, but simply because it’s not them.

I will conclude with a final poem that was written more recently and provides our innate nature, as humans, to overcome all:

 

The best art

Comes from pain,

The best flowers

Come from rain;

I’ve cried a million tears

Because we’re through –

I’ve watered a forest,

Desiccated it

And magically

It regrew…

The power of the artist

Will forever live

Through and through;

Dark sky is temporarily

And soon will come blue –

And the birth will arise

From the death

Of your hue.

 

If you enjoyed this, support my art: Creative Genius

©2019 Michael Angel Loayza Jr.

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