Untitled zen poem

On observing the P r e s e n t s t a t e

There is an error in thought
That does not recognize silence
Or witness the unity behind everything
Unwilling to see the page of nature

We believe our agency to be separate
But our thoughts are rather
Manifestations of nature

We are part of this design
We lack the trust of instinct
Separating, labeling, judging

Living in a cost-benefit duality
Our intelligence is quite limited
So we search for the coin
In the river where we lost it

But time does not function like that
Memory is no longer accurate
The moment it is recalled
And self is a poor approximation of destiny

Destiny is a non-dual experience
It is the Tao of fundamental reality
So empty your body of illusions

And throw away the madness of attachment
Freedom is not to approve anything
For reality is a gold and dung phenomenon

If we stop pursuing things outside of ourselves
Then might we be able to witness
What is actual and what is essential.

moments

 

moments

I don’t believe in poems
I believe in people
People who must

Reinvent themselves
Every day, to keep up
With the future

The future arrives each day
At every hour
With every change

Change is the information
We breathe, the life of the times
For sure, always, certainly, I bet!

I don’t believe in pleasure
I believe in moments
Terrifying, eventful, moments

That transform consciousness
And change perception
Points of reference are mutable

The selected poems of our lives
Are these moments right there
Are these moments right here

Relationships are the
Catalysts that made moments
Special, memorable, unforgettable.
———————————————

 

Philosophy of maybe

I see that there is no nature
only that which we project onto her
that image perhaps evolved in us
due to an interaction with her

but we do not ascertain directly
we do not know anything concretely
everything is translated by sense

imperfectly, translated by science
temporarily, dictated by out-dated dogma
unsystematically, felt incompletely
identified with, with a mesh of duality

I see that there is no nature
that Nature does not exist
there are these myths of the good

myths of God, and shoulds
but our entire world imprisoned
memes, simulations, accepted truth
between us here, that may be false

to another kind of creature
the true and real are a disease
of their own ideas, there exists

a unity that we cannot fathom
that the hills, valleys, plains, oceans
forests, sunlight, flowers, grass
maybe nature without parts

is a whole for which we are
only a piece and therefore
cannot fully grasp beyond ourselves.

Visions opened after a Human Lifetime

No and Yes
We’ve seen it all, this duality
The mind, body

The two syllables of love
If the world is real
We will have died
If the world is unreal
We will have lived

It’s the cleft between
All beginnings, and all ends
The male and female part of us

That speaks through all significant others
Talking about to us
What does it say?
Words are unreal
Experience evaporates

Silence rests all speech
Smiles foretell all energy
The exchange that does not end

With a you, or with a me
Unreality of form
Turning into spirit
Reality of spirit
Spilling into space-time

No and Yes
Free finally of
Exclamations, pauses and questions

Free to dizzily wander
The whirlwind and the flow
Fluid like there is no tomorrow
In the plaza of the mind
What is indeed possible?

Language like water
Between your breasts
Thrives for symbols

Objects & apparitions
Wood and stone
So much to commit to conversation
And so much a silent dialogue.

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God Lives in the World like we Do

One must be very particular about
Giving everything to the grace
The Universal decides our fate

Through surrender one can realize God
Whatever God might be at the time
A man is truly free when she knows

Her true nature, and follows it –
For to discard our truth would be
To lie to ourselves and deprive the world

Of what we were truly meant to be:
One must be very particular about love
Giving our love to the Divine in us

It’s not a question of desire or beloveds
It’s a question of listening to the Universal
Through selfless work, loving the world
One can talk to God as I’m talking to you.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Flashbulb-Eyes-414611474

on Being Other Centered

I scarce esteem the business of a name
Time and being, too closely knelt –
To be somebody is surely
A bondage, as a play, the debts

Of somebody else’s keeping
In some spaces, imprisonment
With other co-conspirators, sweet
I scarce esteem my time on the Earth

Less with my comrades
Few and far-between though they call –
Bring my past despair, those
Bands of spice, talks or reckoning

So I may take flight from these
Boundaries of sense-in-pain
For consciousness is thus sandwiched
Between Eternity and time, and others

I can do without time and Eternity
Enough to be at heart with beloveds.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/In-The-Pouring-Rain-403324988

(For We Know Silence Already)

You tell me that silence
Is closer to God, than poetry
Who am I to disagree –
The best words have always been inner
Like empathy, breathless & unsaid
.
You tell me that silence
Is nearer to your heart than your writing
Though you write from a truer
Place than I do, I can feel
The peace in your few aching words
But I can bring your silence
.
It’s built in my calm, my meditation
Before I had a voice, a body, a life
I was a gift of silence, unborn –
You hand my poems back to me
With a slow smile and I retreat
.
Back into the silence of our
Shared understanding, it’s sweeter
There, than before – when all
I was, were poems strewn across the floor.

Writing is my Last Gold Perception

The Vital Word acts through me
Chiseling lyrics to shiver in language
The act of symbol to perpetuate soul

My favorite invention, my muse
Of the instinct to dance
In line or song, delay and feedback-loop

An aptitude for flight – or poetry
Here one moment, gone too soon
With swiftness as if Eternity was due

Upon the ether-street, airy lullabies
I write to oblige the accomplished Guest
To visit me like awkward cursive

Ancient tongues, soul-music standing ajar
As English, neighbored Mandarin
Songs of Earth, to light my brain with

Securest folds, enlarging loneliness
The Abyss can fall into the word.

The Veins that Run from all Centuries

I can feel a tremendous ballad
Approaching me from within

A rising discontent, with locality
I want to live outside of time & space

Embrace dimensions where “I” does not exist
That is the trusting of Omnipotence
And the true unity of Immortality
Life sustains itself, I can forsake this body

So long as I have a means to experience
The Kingdom of Heaven, spiritual totality

I can feel a tremendous ballad
Overtaking me from without

All these Delinquent Palaces
Achieving poetic strain, at a distance
Assisted by false estimates of mortal consequence
I can feel a tremendous ballad

Between Zero and the Bone
Between Love and all other interchange.

Prologue

Time for me has never gotten comfortable
Once upon a time, there was me
Not I, but a coexisting us
Many selves splintered
Unable to resume existing
As a significant whole
Like a prologue of all known things
These of the self were finite
Mortal, braided with the stars
Mirrored, like wandering hands
That renounced the light
A long time ago, time was only a context
The symbols of neglected bruises
Reminders of ancient Sanskrit terms
Gray cathedrals of spirit-space
That were not witnessed, before the age
Of a thousand eyes, before consciousness
Could be downloaded and uploaded
Time was a little girl who
Announced her arrival each moment
With a big pillow in her hands for sleeping beauty
Down from the sorcerer’s tree
I swallowed the fruit once again
A blind witness to my blind hunger
Leave the wisdom here said the bird
In the seed, throw the seed into the river.

Portrait of the Void

These hours are not pregnant
Maybe in reversed tempo
I must be broken to love again
I wake up to the smell of pine needles
The hours of my humanity were edited
Performed memory autopsy
By the impotence of our toppled world
Yesterday or today or tomorrow
Blend into one, like a reconstructed
Holographic life, a quantum signature
With the breath of a fairy
Erected from lost discipline, cheated disciplines
These hours are like a miscarriage
Of all the love we stored in each other
Moments as brutal as magnetic suns
Whose ballet of light is unrelentless.