Ebullient moments touch me like Jesus touched the blind
Curing all the sheer stupidity and dread for just a few seconds
Like it diminished forever
But once these moments are over
The morbid realization comes back into play
Now i'm in overtime and can't score a goal
What number should i roll?
These dice aren't rigged, but i still have my suspicion
What will become of me if i let this get to me?

I put a sardine in a mud puddle,              
My Grandma must not be told.
I would have fed it to my dog,
But it was too salty and so cold.

I would have ate it with my eyes closed
If it wasn’t so slimy and gray.
Grandma doesn’t know it’s been floating
In a mud puddle half the day.

The sardine may come to life and swim,
Or some boys will use it for bait --
If Grandma ever finds it,
Her white hairs will stand straight.

The secret of the sardine is safe so far --
Where I left it I’ll never admit.
It can stay forever in its muddy home,
With a butterfly attending to it.

Lying together in
the calm of night
eyes losing focus,
drifting towards
sleep, there was
always one more
thought to speak,
one more kiss to
give. Black hair
shone like ravens'
wings on silken
pillows. At dawn,
I would lead my
army into battle,
never to return.

Now, you turn
your face to smile
at a new love,
holding a black
umbrella over her
pretty blond head.

When we met,
our souls saw
who we were  
to one another.

But that was then,
my love.

Here comes the light of the sun
And all darkness burn
Light and darkness switch in turn
It's how the day is run
All these are shown in our lawn

So is success and failure
The latter wanting to lure
But the former being the cure
It all depends in the choice of yours

Victory and losing have much difference
Both sides have an inference
Which only you can influence
It's the part you choose that gives you affluence
  
Joy and sorrow are two sides of a nut
The search of joy is very hot
While that of sorrow is left to rot
But to find genuine joy comes with big luck

Words and opposite aren't only for rhymes
They aren't only for stories read at bedtimes
They show us strength when in our prime
And reminds us of those days we call inn our time

As coffee moonwalks on my tongue
and consciousness breeds my mind,
energy accumulates my soul
to a spiritual dimension of peace.
I see the future
when my eyes are awakened
to the mystic power of moonlight energy
stargazing to the change of weather
an epitome of an indigo child.
Blue emotions and harmonic motions
reflect the sounds and images
of a creative asylum, the universe.

On The Sixth Moon's Night
I came to contemplate the cosmos.

I awoke on a mountainous range:
Projected were ten thousand isles, scattered in remain.

All dancing differently,
But constructing one eternal game.

To what extent might my eye expand?
To what end will death cast its sand?

Upon what shore may the waves crash again
In peace and calm harmony?

No matter how many curtains the Devas will draw
Or how many distinctions Māyā will make~

Always, the un-curved perfection subdues and surrenders to them all.

Like the water-way, cultivating life and harvesting it on the other side.

Formless, it surpasses all stiff form and creates a path of least resistance

To the goal of the heart.

---

You cannot carve a stone buddha out of human flesh.

A stone buddha cannot experience samadhi nor still a pond.

Mind is a mirror
that must be seen clearer!

But behind the glass and that transient social class,
What is that divine perception?

"The Ultimate Peerer"

Some days, it hits me harder than others. I can wake up in the morning and build myself up to a mountain's peak. I can feed myself love and forgiveness, and swear to the sky that I am complete. I can speak to the lives around me of the love that I found in my own darkness.

But my words aren't big enough to hide the cracks that form in my underlying foundation. Other days, everything is still. I'm bottled up with words that I can't bring myself to speak. I lay as time passes endlessly by. I hide myself in the depths of solitude, knowing well enough that no one would make the voyage to save me. So, I just stop. I stop hoping, and expecting and feeling. Time passes, but I don't move along with it.

Spooked
Driving along on my scooter seeing the familiar
landscape there was a time disturbance
the landscape was the same but the trees small
and there were fewer ploughed fields.
mystical shadows and a murmur of voices sounded
as an echo and I felt spooked.

I stopped and waited perhaps I had a funny turn
slowly the warp panned out and I was back at
my own time, yet I sensed an unease I should not
come back to this place that had layers of old time
that had yet to melt into the clarity of a white water
that has no story to tell.