Thus have I heard about one of those enlightened souls playing music for all sentient beings.
A busking Buddha big beats bongo drums,
The man not merely makes a song or plays
a beat. In Boston subway busking proud
He sees so simply all the people their—
The beings beaming or just brooding ‘round.
Y hace mal moon no means to show us:
Light to the basement to balm the ol’ brain.
Minds in need of some mighty mantras now
For before earthly beings may be seen
Like some viewèd stars sole or together
And before bodhi begins to beset—
The music manifests to multitudes.
O brakeman, the trains loud billowing blast!
Moves motors so rapidly. Commuters
And tourists believe breath does begin brass,
But listen and it slowly sings a song.
But the kind bodhisattva believes that
A breath more manifests in melody
Like bells of beautiful bliss that do ring.
The music of the man is malleable,
The notes bound as hearts bled out; besides hear
That other sound, it seems to sing in praise
Of the jam being made that’s between all,
Of magic mamba mambo rhythm made.
The beautiful young bodhisattva brings
More joy to me than any maiden might,
O because she is such a beatnik babe—
She steps so silently off the subway.
A Bhikkhuni with bright star eyes—there blest—
See meaning of man in so many ways.
The beat booms back up to the high main street:
A melancholy moaning a lament.
The brooding beat then becomes bitter-sweet
By stirring the strings of hearts and of souls,
It befits bleak and euphoric bones gold.
The beat makes multitudes into Meccas.
Those notes bound for both body and psyche,
And moments made to memory imprint,
And belong to be blazon and be kind,
And simple, serene and of sustenance,
Mind begging belief, bodhi to awake,
Must melt the ego away, it must go.
The bustling of born beings from point B
To A makes me quite sad and almost mad,
As beings buscan to just belong here
Be it to something substantial or sacr’d.
It bemuses the Buddhas because the
Melodious music frees the whole psyche.
Me, being beyond birth and beyond death,
I’m without mirth or melancholy means.
Soul begs for bites of bodhisattvas soul,
While slowly stumbling and mist spiting words
Like both a drunk and bum whose bemusèd.
O merry mi bright manifestation
In the dark Metro. Beyond being both
To the mind my own reflection mirrors
It reflects off the subways small windows
And brings bout the new belief being this:
O me! The mania of mind cut diamond.
O me! A body-vessel, a boundless
Thing of mass dropt into a maelstrom’s surge,
Beat sings the surf of the soundless ol’ sea,
Been, being, be known bongos music makes
The Metro a zendo for all mankind.
Us all (just candles to be blown—whoosh—out).
there was a little mole and digging was his pleasure
he took a little trip to try and find some treasure
he jumped on a plane far across the sea
to a desert island where treasure just might be
he walked along the sand then suddenly he saw
a great big cross marked out. on the island shore
mole began dig to see what he could find
if there was any treasure that someone left behind
the mole dug very fast at this he was the best
then there in the hole sat a treasure chest
he lifted up the lid and there before his eyes
there was lots of treasure all of different size
mole he was so happy his treasure hunt was done
hunting for his booty had give so much fun
Yesterday I heard they sent a rocket ship
around the space station, birds.
And tonight I have arrived by sea
from a distant memory, moon.
A comet dropt from the stratosphere crashes
through the lily pads of my mind.
"Every day I would. I can’t
function without – "
Why do we fly in the name of Apollo?
"I don’t feel it necessary to know
exactly what I mean."
1000 years crawl past,
her desire will be silent no more.
Why do we say recall?
I only felt this this once, my Laurel Tree.
It comes in waves
So many different emotions
And no explanation as to why i feel them
They wash over me
Pulling me under
Screaming at me to feel
To notice their presence
There has been a time
When i have felt nothing
And in that i found comfort
My body moving
But my brain not functioning
Dont like feeling numb
But i find comfort in it
When these waves
Of emotions come
I feel as if im in the middle of the sea
The waves thrashing me about
The current pulling me under
I feel lost
And it doesnt feel nice at all.
do you remember how we met, when the air tasted like the sea and you were heading where you swore to never return for the love you could not have, but made you choose the choices you made, then with the leakage which tasted of the ocean only wishing you were seventy not seventeen or fourteen or -teen— that at the second we never touched, the greeting we never exchanged, the lives we could not save flowed all behind the day we did not happen— but hey i know your story as if inked under my skin where your sun does not fade and your sky does no harm and the sea no more than the sea— us on different frequencies of never ending rain- behind our eyelids i saw you in all the times you existed without me— you are not alone you who did not want to be remembered but wanted only to live; we never crossed- never crossed but i found your heart in the way it tried to beat- to beat through the chaos and the voices and the shadows that were not yours, i also know of the sorry you repeatedly whispered inside and whispered out loud- then you were gone— your story your heart i found them inside my veins in all my air and bones- oh i know of the bones and even the shadows, those with no masters— i discovered you who i did not meet- and for having remembered those memories that are not mine, for having recalled you your story your pain: i am sorry
I heard a story
about an old pine tree
somewhere by the sea
singing a lullaby
and if the waves
that come ashore
listen to the song
the sea falls asleep
some say that
under the moonlight
the old pine tree
and that at night
when all is asleep
gather to listen
She saw the kids on the slide,
each with their own
burden to bear:
counting the last days
on their thin fingers,
a kid with an eye gone,
And she, Anne,
12 year old,
fine of remaining limb,
scanning the rest,
in the wheel chair,
Skinny Kid behind,
hands on the handles,
on her neck.
She was bored,
sun too bright,
kids too noisy,
to see eye to eye,
get a peek at that,
indicating the thighs
and stocking tops
The Kid, thin arms
and legs, short hair,
11 year old, stared,
took in stocking legs,
Don't get to see
that every day,
you're their old man
or fond lover,
grinning ear to ear.
want me to push you
to the beach?
from these wounded ones,
these dying doomed,
let me smell
the salt and sea,
let me hear
the sea's song.
So the Kid, pushed
the chair, arms
her one remaining leg
to the chairs' move,
the stump, showing
where her skirt ended,
shook and rocked.
Out the back gate,
onto the path
by the beach,
out of the nurse's sight,
or sound of voice's reach.
of the Kid's
his heaving her
from chair to bed,
the night before,
his thin arms
in case she fell,
the warm bed
holding her down,
he standing there,
gazing at her
with that innocent
as he pushed along,
her stump was
the night before,
how the thigh
of her other leg
was white as snow
as he stared.
Every fiber of my body is on edge, seething with a burning urge to be alive.
More alive than this repetitive stasis that is Educational routine.
My blood thrums and sings with the desire and yearning for otherworldly adventures.
The uncontainable demanding within my soul that CRAVES more than a dull life set within the confines and standards of a society that has disbanded the thrill seeking pleasure that is and was the old world. Now we have to pay a small fortune in order to obtain a moment where we transcend grey and our colors blast and shoot through the spectrum in solar flare heartbeat pulses of excitement that dulls far too soon.
I want to taste sea salt and raindrops on my lips, grains of sand beneath my feet.
To feel every nerve in my body alight with the spark of something more.
To face the unknown, not in a city nor my home cowering for the remainder of my life.
But to claim my destiny with both hands, clutching my glaive firmly in battle stances while gazing unafraid into the eyes of my nemesis, my enemy. To duel it out on stormy seas, sails billowing, lifelines secured, braced upon the slick decks of pirate ships soaked with rain while torrents of wind lash at my body during a dangerous battle between lovers, demanding my downfall at the hands of nature but instead of falling to it I would prevail and arise. Where lightning cracks across the sky like a golden whip, where thunder roars in agony across the cosmos like Atlas holding up the weight of the sky.
Engaged in the throes of battle while the air is rich and pungent with the scent of steel and the satisfying clang of blades locked in combat. Sword against glaive, antagonist and protagonist.
To battle and seek, to pursue those who dare take whom and what I love. To become MORE. To transcend the fabric of dreams and turn all this into something tangible, to grasp it tight and shower the seeds of dreams into the soil of the real world, and to help it bloom into a reality I've wished for my whole life.
Instead of sitting around writing about how much more I long for. I don't want to be trapped in columns, in places at certain times.
To change the world, to alter my dull fate and the chance to make the stuff of my daydreams and night visions into more than just letters on a page. To whisper and weave the song of those worlds into the fabric of this twisted reality and watch as stardust mends the frayed edges.
Perhaps it is this fate, that my dreams never see the light of the midday sun
that there is not a strong enough conviction nor skilled weaver to bring about the change I long for.
We grow up in a world filled with fairy tales and books filled to the brim with stories to capture our imagination and you cant expect me to suddenly still be content and satisfied with the damnable grayness that is the black and white of our world that will never be filled with color.
And I will be doomed to write out worlds and cultures I can never touch and interact with, never will I be able to grasp the soil of the other worlds and exist within the places I make.
Never will we, of earth, trapped inside dull grey columns ever truly experience freedom.
Not even with our words for we cant even paint the sky a different color other than grey, and the ground beneath our feet will only ever be black. Despite the colors we think we see, they're not the colors we want. Just pale washed out shades of worlds we will never be a part of.
I don’t know, I just feel so sad so suddenly. I miss the way I’d be able to count on you for loving me. For being the only person in the entire world who would drop what they were doing and come be with me, even if that meant lying to your parents and my parents. I believed in a future with you, and I could reach out and feel it at any given moment. Life with you was so tangible, so beautiful, the very idea of it embraced me as you had so many times before, holding me closer and closer to you until we’d mend into one person. I love you so goddamned much, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough, because I can’t bring myself to give it all away. But I hope you feel it when I fall too close. I hope you feel it as my car drives down your street, exactly where it shouldn’t be. I hope that when you walk through the sea of fallen leaves at the park, you are drawn to the picnic table where we always sat at. And I hope that when you sit down, you’ll see it, my message to you, engraved in the wood with everything of mine.
Moonlight washed me in its white crane wing
And she didn’t know I was far away
Quietly leaving her door!
Each glistening grain spoke her pain
Cajoling me to go back to her warmth
And not court the windswept shore!
How would they know I was not there seeking love
But dig deep the earthen night
Find something more!
Something more than love
More treasurable more eternal
Waiting to be discovered in that lunar carnival!
The sea knew the secret
But the waves wouldn’t return
What’s destined as a lover’s fate!
As the night waned in hush
Dimmed the moonshine
Slowed the wind’s rush
I stood on her door
And she took me in her warmth
I couldn’t be far!