Zombie Fruit

You bleed, and bubble,
Your shell ablaze with passion,
Yet your heart imprisoned,
Your gaoler is intimately known to you,
Yet recognise it within your gaze,
Now you do not,
Not to worry, in time you will,

Still it lingers deep as an intuition,
Unrecognised, blind, you form it,
A rising, seething, torrent of hatred,
A growing pustule,
Soon again to be pricked,
Puss flowing out,
Only to inflame further passion.

You antagonise in defence of your past,
And a future devoid of your creativity,
Your family, your future, your fickle desires,
Your country, your religon, your job,
Your money, your boat, your flag.

A prisoner to an imagined past,
You witness the transfiguration of your anxiety,
Your nightmares, and deepest fears,
As they become your poison,
A selfish sauce,
Your own recipe.

At prophet, guru and compassionate kin,
You murmur, maybe even lip agreement,
Share sentiment or platitude,
Yet your expression is hollow, as sham,
More often you scoff,
Practical concerns take precedence,
I have my desires, my security, my future,
You are just different, a dreamer,
Come back to reality you say!

Against banging head within your own walls,
Caution given, prescription even,
Many forms, in words, art, song and dance,
Yet you persist and then wonder,
Why blood fills abode and stains clothes,
Why your children lay slain upon your very floor.

At teacher, guru and compassionate kin,
Still you scoff, you make martyr,
Blinkered, preferring to wage war,
In the pursuit of fractured peace,
Cut down and deride the enemy you must,
Fear your ever present companion.

Routinely shattered, you grudgingly subsist,
Upon the demented zombie fruit,
The produce of your own twisted nightmares,
Sewn by your own hand,
Eventually distraught or overcome,
Consumed by your own ripening fear,
You pawl, impotent at philosophy.

Grimacing and sighing,
Practiced to perfection,
You stumble to door and ask, what now?
Go through! Try it and see!
Again you turn away,
And still once more you will return.

Filled to a fattening paralysis,
Upon your own festering fear,
When at once you pluck up courage,
Courage to go through, to enter,
To abide within your own mess,
To sink beneath and drown in your blood,
Sit still for once, patiently,
Then at once you are at peace.

All is forgiven, all is forgotten.
Return you will, to your practical concerns,
Free of fear, free of derision.
Laugh at the tattered remains,
Time and all things evaporated.

The blood of nightmares,
Now waters a fresh crop,
Yet still you feast upon the zombie fruit,
This time unharmed,
A bastion of peace, surrounded by the dead,
You work tireless,
Ever ready to feed a fellow traveller,
To offer solace, advice,
Even upon as yet, deaf ear.

If it is peace you desire,
Surrender even peace,
Abide in all things with compassion.

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