Categories
Poetry

learning disability

I refuse to learn

how options appear
and reappear

to be watched
to be played, as they say
as it’s called
as it’s a toy, a game

we buy into, pressing
play, a button, into
plastic, cold and hard into
flesh and piercing mind

reflex, concerto into messiness
miserly caution, mimics, perfects
fake British accent, dying intellect
started to make sense, now derelict

started to take care, yet now neglect
began to change, but now nonsense
imitation meat – for vegans, eggless
but frozen semen – ah, I digress

an eagle’s search, a patriot’s shame
poorly timed speech or heart’s first flame
dying breath meets empty fame

a speech like this
     a poem in rhythm
          a face uncovered
     past life, disgraced

pointless in theme,
     its cadence poor
          rhyme lacks importance
     its topic, a bore

lost life, discovered
     meaningless, in vain
          still I cannot help but hope
they make me solid –
          exist me in name

press play, the button
enter the future shop
click submit when prompted
and buckle up

Categories
Poetry

Walk

Walk

It does not matter where your legs take you

Walk

Let the winds move through you

Roam

There are lands to explore even if they’ve been discovered

Rediscover

Move from the material to the imagination

Pace

The rooms in your house & see the cobwebs in the corners

Ignore

The spiders in such places, helpful & harmless

Dust

The webs from your head, because the arachnids that inhabit psychic spaces are venomous

Vomit

The excrement that has no benefit in the stomach of your mind

Stumble

Forward, as a traveler of future lives does not rest

Walk

It does not matter where your legs take you

Move

The inner winds to virtue

Categories
Poetry

Lost Life Loss

                         a memory

it is not mine

                      upon a log I sit

           ‘neath the snowy pine

under darkened sky

                      beside earthen stove

           a bitter wind kicks up

in the moonlit grove

                      the jingle of the horse & sleigh

           as it carries him so far away

I cannot weep, I do not cry

                      a muted heart is breaking

           and as the silence lies

a frozen bough is snapping – loud

                      to crack the quiet

           still, expected in the freeze

I do not startle, there is no breeze

         no wind at back to impel me

                      my bones have stiffened here

           my mind is anything but clear

as the winter’s solitude

                      forces delusions rather rude

           inner quietude never did follow outer

now it’s simply easier to hear

                      internal screaming

         though the fire burns, continuous

it takes us not

                        because it cannot reach

         what we refuse we got

         buried below

                        alive and dead

         some peace & love

                                     blessings bestowed

how are these all stripped from me?

         as he plods on down the snowy path

                  I know he won’t be coming back

         so I’m wrecked to watch him leave

though it is not my memory

Categories
Poetry

Kinda feels like “going”

It always ends

     like a Robert Frost poem

he speaks
     in a language she does not understand

she tries,
     but he is wizened, suspicious

     innocence has no place on a tired vine
bird shit scattered over the fields

wash your produce, she says
           and he takes it all wrong
                   “What’s she on about now
                 I’m tired of it”

            he’s cracking, she’s cracked

yes, when we resign our wills
         to others,
                          when we bend

we believe we will not break
       until the ripping point is reached

will another aimless traveler
                    risk his life to rescue    me

or shall I unravel the web
              I’m caught in
      and escape myself

after all,
          there is no independent existence

Categories
Buddhism Poetry

Second Disappointment

You search for conventional cause
   but come up empty handed
not quite the emptiness you seek
   because the suffering is still there
the realness of a wound laid bare

and why not rub salt in it —
we’re out of control anyway

a disappointing dream, yes, sore
   red, raw,       sinewy once more
the band aid won’t stick
   and the solitary peace that binds,
too, won’t stick in spite of such mess

Shariputra’s demon will not
   prevent my efforts as a spiritual warrior
even if injured once more

after all, we’re all lunatics in
   the madhouse of samsara
          arrogant prisoner
        trapped
hard to believe it’s not permanent
          until we move beyond
                           conventional cause

you want to be angry,
                           but on what authority?

what justification could you have
                           for such delusion?

Thinking of virtue, compassion and love
             -how do you forget love?
the simple wish for others to be happy

I am so sorry for you that you
        do not know this feeling

a flame carried for all living beings
despite my own suffering
     ‘cause that’s life

and what say you to that?
that in a moment of weakness
                we see it all
and having been forsaken, both,
             and both put through hell
             and failing miserably
to the lower realms we could descend
              if this silly hatred doesn’t end

it’s temporary anyway

do you resist?

Categories
Buddhism Poetry

Simple Wisdom

In the Unforgetting World, attachment is inevitable
so my simple wisdom is this:

Attachment will rise
and as a wish fulfilled, it will fall

Your mind creates a story
you must see it all

If you see the tall tale clearly
and Dharma you recall,

Just apply a simple virtue
then, with love, enjoy it all

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

Categories
Poetry

Halloween Haunt

I don’t feel right
I can’t be normal
an alien in another’s skin —
how uncomfortable at times
I see myself needing
I see myself performing
I watch the satisfaction of each urge
depressed (only) momentarily, popped
deflated pimple, red, temporary
embarrassing, addictive
craving will resurface, a monster
people argue its existence — Loch Ness —
but the lie lays bare before us
recognized or not

so, it is with robotic sensibilities
I feel myself refuse to yield
to another pointless pleasure
and instead feel pain!
which I know is not the way —
but how else will I recognize
when I am being led astray
if not by monitoring such deceits
especially harmful, discovering

my own mind is the evil
that haunts me

Categories
Poetry

Part of it all

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I want to be
part of it all
not individual and alone
not an add-on, but integral
I want my purity to be yours
and I want to spark the virtue
in all minds, together
like water, taking shape

I want to see
the aggregate of aggregates
“I” am
I want to see the “I” differently
so I am not trickster-trapped
by selfish self-cherishing
grasping the most important “me”

I want to be
the cedar on the rock,
the bark on the trunk,
a drop of water in the earth
a molecule of worth
immeasurable yet meaningful
a part of it all

Categories
Poetry

Tired, but waking up

I’m tired of being blamed for the
inadequacies of others

reflected back at them
glaring

omissions come to light

you hate it, yes,
but it’s your mind’s appearance

though you cannot concede,
conceive
               such truth

let the mirror show

I am tired

and so not accountable

for you

for me,
             I take full responsibility
though I depend
completely
   upon the kindness of all beings
                 for every   little   thing

for my actions – wait
       — ha-ha, I see!

now just what they have
done to me

I, too, have reflections
   staring back
        challenging
             to acknowledge, purify

and why not rejoice
while at it

lucky   tired   me
I am my own mirror

clearly,
             I see.