Tag: joy

Categories
Poetry

magic of mind

believe in magic
  believe in love
    believe that life is a gift above
       all else believe that happiness is real
not to be attained, but
        merely discovered
pull back the cover, the visage of misery
for underneath,   already there
   is joy,   and peace,   and fearlessness
magical and pure
   suffering’s cure
           such allure
 & haute couture
     we make a dress of bliss
a lightweight garb
   heavenly feeling, free of attachment
free of hatred
          free of ignorance
   created with equanimity and compassion
rainbow fabric of delight
not temporary, but everlasting
     not truly existent, 
     but purified, transformed and increased!
what sorcery is this!
     not wizardry of external means
     but a realization of mind
             my mind, your mind
     pouring water into water
     mixed inseparable
may I be free from delusions
  may I fortify my magic
    may I never wreak havoc
        (more than I already have)
      may I only give Dharma,
        material help, fearlessness and love
          may I be a treasure from above
ultimately,         at last I find
         a magician’s alchemy
   is mind over matter
         for all matter is mind

Categories
Poetry questions

Where is the joy?

the tedium of days
    with their fits and starts
       a haunting melody
lacking rhythm
          lacking rhyme
       a humdrum routine
  safe, content, but lacking life

Where is the life?!

excuse me, for every so often
              I must exclaim
       there’s something pent up —
         they call it rage?
                      desperate yearning?
              I can’t explain!
          but it has to come out!
        how much can I take?
           (thankfully art is a good outlet)

now my prayer be heard by all
    I just want to meet a happy person!
        doesn’t have to be particularly
               handsome or tall
                   (not that that’s not nice)
    never mind lover! maybe friend?
       it’s a very very mad world
      and the time for being particular is near
      end
but we’re not there yet!
           how about a little happiness?
                                  I’m not some joker
                         ‘put-a-smile-on’-quack
                 just a halfwit out of whack
    who to some could be a little woker
                 (not gonna happen
                          you’ll never guess why)

so with all that exclaimed and said
I must admit what I want instead
is to keep my queen-sized empty bed
and lose the roommate I’m lucky to stand
but would much rather be alone each night
I am never so lonely – I’m always alright but

mixing the mind
         with the depressed masses
has brought invisible clouds
          to winter’s false sunny days
lacking warmth
     lacking love

it’s that time of year
        hawks swoop and call up above
       while this nest remains cluttered
        with dog fur of all things, poison
        what can I do but wait and pray?

        what can I do but appreciate
    these lucky opportunities for easy practice
    things were once difficult
           and could be hard again
      so upon which minds will you depend?
          (I hope the happy ones!!)

if the days grow long and tedious
simply rejoice and practice
there’s never need for sorrow, tears
when refuge in Dharma abounds
once more, rejoice!

let the ring go
      those who know will know

let go

let joy arise

Categories
Holiday Cheer Poetry

My Tears

My Tears*

I’m crying all the time now.
I cried all over the street when I left Jack’s near Montebello Park.
I cried listening to Heart.
I cried looking at the winter leaves strewn across the yard, I cried at the sadness
            of the now-ignored trees.

Happiness exists I feel it.
I cried for anger, I cried for delusions.
The world is addicted to anger.
Joy appearing to be seen, but lost, a mirage.
                                     Overflowing tears of Avalokiteshvara.

January 1, 2025
*a tribute to Allen Ginsberg’s “Tears,” 1956

Categories
Dreams Poetry

Feels Like Summer (poem)

It’s funny now to think
of all the things that bothered me
of all the pain and suffering
of all the time, temporary
of all the boredom and writing
                     (there was a lot of it)

of all the clouds that passed me by
of all the insults I let fly
of each and every teenage guy
that harassed me – pretty damn good
                    I gotta say

of all the humdrum slow sales days
of all the ones who got away
of all the patrons that did play
of all the couples, straight and gay
                    (had to use the rhyme)

of all the goddamn wasted time
of all the lemons and no lime
all of the coke, the hash, the crime
of getting the nickel not the dime
of all the puke, and dye and slime
of all the nights I spent awake
of all the pictures I did take
of all the muffins I did bake
of all the calmness I did fake
all for the goodness’ sake!

It’s funny now to think
that all that suffering
had its purpose and its place
carried me through this time and space
with a name I tried to lose, but stayed
with an identity that just won’t fade
with a childlike quality that wants to play
believing summer starts in May
wearing bare feet in the stream
ever remembering the dream
       (I’d never lose the Buddhist theme)

for while it helps me to escape
it helps me to survive
it helps me to help others
it helps me to be kind
it helps me be of service
it helps me to be strong
it helps me to be happy
it helps me to get along
it helps me every when
it helps me every where
it helps me every how
it helps to simply care

and certainly, when we met
It was my summer reappeared
all the pain and suffering
all the heartache, all the tears
all the happiness, the joy
all the hope and possibility
all the sunshine and noise
all the soft tranquility
all the disappointment
all the vanity
all the goddamn fears
all the animosity
all the craving and the yearn
all the cash I couldn’t earn
all the parties and the crash
all the littered trash
how did these memories appear
      dependent upon you?
how did all my hopes and dreams
      dissolve in summer’s blue?

NEW!
Listen to the poem on Youtube

Categories
Buddhism Dreams Philosophy Poetry

the speed of love

in grade six,
     we were asked to
                define love

I plagiarized Chicken Soup for the Soul
           after we were force-fed its trite passages
           (so it seemed to me – I hated it)
     strong past life imprints
             tearing present apart
     of course I got caught
I lacked the language
     the metaphors
                 – the red, red roses –
                 I knew I did
     how could my eleven define love?

only years later,
     the unchanging definition was given to me
only years later,
     a pure example, to be echoed
absorbed into my roots
                          my Guru
          – how shall I mind to be
               an echo of utter purity? –
          so now love is my wish for all others,
                                                    for you
                   to be happy
                     effortlessly & evermore
                                         & quickly

Categories
Buddhism Poetry

Futile complaint

All the conditions
all the instructions
all the sorrows
                       the pains
the long introductions
you should know suffering
and develop intention

You have all the conditions
all the instructions
all the pleasures
                       such joys
you should know these are temporary
called changing suffering
and seek the wisdom realizing
                       emptiness instead

Categories
Poetry

un thrilling reflection

I am not a thrill seeker
I have already felt such falls
I no longer live on the edge
enjoying such close calls
I am not a party animal
I prefer my nights alone
passing by the cemeteries
imagining my gravestone
I do not appear a fun person
for my joy comes from within
and what I seek is simple
virtuous and absent sin
a place without people,
a cave of calm, a sea of silence
except birdsong, except the animals
here among       the rotting leaves
      just myself – grasped mistaken
moment by moment foregone

just letting go

       un fun
              un riled
                    un identified
              less
        self
              less
                    un identified
              un riled
       un fun

just letting go

moment by moment foregone
      just myself – grasped mistaken
here among       the rotting leaves
except birdsong, except the animals
a cave of calm, a sea of silence
a place without people,
virtuous and absent sin
and what I seek is simple
for my joy comes from within
I do not appear a fun person
imagining my gravestone
passing by the cemeteries
I prefer my nights alone
I am not a party animal
enjoying such close calls
I no longer live on the edge
I have already felt such falls
I am not a thrill seeker