Stop meddling in other people's business
They dash their words against the walls
As if to advertises,  hatred of the human race.
The higher they climb,
the more you can see their disgusting parts

They comes off as useless quacksalver,
A waste of energy, a waste of space,
Words, words, mere words no matter from the heart
They form clichés, and spin the bottles
An idle mind is the devil’s playground
They smile in an annoying self-satisfied manner.
As if bitterness would bring them happiness
                
Who Am I?

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"

One may think:

"The world soon will sink,
                But surely the stars will glow."

"And on that day we shall unite,
                Realizing what we might."

~Longing for a brother and sister too late,
                                 Sent by war to Heaven's open gates..

My head is at work,
with unrest on my shoulders.
My feet feel like lead
and my bones are like boulders.

My body is pinned,
I am lying awake
and so 1 a.m.
I greet thee with '**** sake'

They often judge the poet
On the words that he thread
Some readers formed his silhouette
In each poetry that they've read

Judge him not at one piece, else you'll be upset
Because his pen can laughed then can bled
In every second his mind will reset
Truly, you'll never know what's inside his head

In the universe of paper and quill
He can create truth within lies
He can put soul to nonliving
Some of his creations will never die

Every poesy made was alive
Talked of its own tongue
It will definitely survive
Even the poet was long gone



9/23/2015

Mysterious Aries

is going to put us in a trance
a little somethin' somethin'
is gonna to make us wanna dance.

a little somethin' somethin'
is going to bring a girl
a girl with a curl,
is going to bring a guy,
a guy that doesn't lie.

a little somethin' somethin'
is going to open our eyes
show us what we can find.

with a little somethin' somethin'
our hearts are gonna fly
heading to the blue panoramas of open skies.

a little somethin' somethin'
gonna dissolve all we disguise
a little somethin' somethin'
is going to bring peace to our minds.

a little somethin' somethin'
we just gotta find,
it happens all of the time,
gratitude and blessings
for everything we can describe,
for every tune we hum
for every time
time is on our side.

A night bird is singing,
his call calls out,
he sounds just about right
singing about
a little somethin' somethin',
we hear it in our dreams
when our eyes awaken
sometimes, not always
we remember
a little bit of everything -
a little somethin' somethin'
it's right there,
a little somethin' somethin'
we can grab it if we dare.