none .....

Ego Poem by none .....

The taste of the ego is too high
It desires & aspires that which it finds pleasing
Averts & refrains the painful & upsetting
The ego-trip is what we are taking
Everyone falls sooner or later
For the trip isn't always high
Everyone suffers the hangover
There are cultures & customs
There are languages & systems
There are made-up paths & traditions Out there
Accumulated in the form of societies
Divided & isolated in the name of countries
And there's its subtlest form called Ego
Implanted & founded in the early stage
Rooted & strengthen gradually in thy brain
The smallest unit of division
The reason to every sense of isolation
Here everyone is born curious & intelligent
Ends-up in conformity & disgrace
Here most sleep almost are certain
Of them being some mumbling entity
Inside the scum of their perceived body
Only few doubt, fewer inquire earnestly
And the fewest strive for the answer for real
Still many seem busy & occupied
Too serious too confined
In making their daily living
In their ideas In their believes
It's not the matter of much concern who loses or wins, is it?
After all the ego-trip always ends up in big disgrace & fall
Everyone sooner or later suffers
But it concerns him so much your ego
It is for sure in too much blindness
You will stumble treading the slippery path
And you fall and your ego scatters
And in its pain & sorrow
You cry you suffer
You ail for help & support
All you pride all your vanity is gone
But it can't be helped
While you are still fast asleep, can it be?
Though everyone wants to be realized
But with the closed eyes In their dreams
Who troubles to seek earnestly To find it for real
But to keep the hope alive To let the sleep continue
Aids of many kinds have been devised
They think it can be helped out and you too
With new language and new system
New made-up path, new tradition
New bunch of thinkers, new religion
While many are still addicted to the trip
While many believe themselves to be their ego
And strive and struggle for its desires
Worry and fear as it stumbles & scatters
While many assume its rage and hate
Its guilt its shame
Its name its fame
Its pleasure its pain
Its aversions its attachments
To be their own
while many suffer its traumas & failures
Do you hope it can be helped then?
While ignorance is so accepted & obvious
While the sleep is so deep
While life seem so insecure
Future so panicking & uncertain
Death so frightening & fearsome
In such confusion In such distress
While you hold it yourself Don't let go
And cry out for the help
Yes it can't be helped otherwise
You are its creator cease thy filthy creations
When the clouds of attachment fall down
In the disappearance of the ego the real appears

Submitted: Monday, June 09, 2014

Topic of this poem: fashion

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