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bo-tanskyPoems
The Buddhists Teach There is a door Between the conscious and the unconscious On the threshold of awareness Where, from this sleepy place Mind-door takes in space A snap-shot of what’s around The shapes and the sounds Be it red, blue or brown Sensory fed and felt and judged A conceptual conclusion Based on memory and illusion Served up ofttimes with a bit of confusion The sixth sense of inclusion Transcending time and allusion. Knock, knock. Who’s there? The unaware From where? Memory Lane What a pain Insane and mundane Tainted and sainted Familiar and unfamiliar It’s the object and the flavor It only makes sense To bring in the other scents Can you feel it   Through my poetry? Because I have no other way      I’m sending you the sweetest berry In bloom And tea scented perfume For some lazy afternoon. Starting out so poetic Descended into the prosaic I’d like to stay in those high-minded places Between the sheets of my faces I’m at peace and war with myself No one else. I know I shouldn’t get attached Shrug it off with panache When I think about impermanence Makes me cringe and   create another circumstance A twirling happenstance A devil’s dance A devilish lance It’s getting better Like frankincense Then it fades Like the past tense How does one let go When clinging’s become a way of life? A hunting knife couldn’t pry My pathetic fingers lose Holding on to A hangman’s noose I’d scream and rail Holding on To the nail That pierced my travail As life stomped and pounded grounded me down But, I wouldn’t let go. Oh no, not me Fool that I am Was it a question of pride? A fear of the night The ego chasing its’ tale Personal blackmail? A forgotten memory A mishmash Lack of mindfulness A Pandora's box? Nonetheless, I confess A little bit of everything. I tell myself Baby steps Baby steps Baby’s need to let go And fall and get up Or they won’t learn to walk Or talk or grow up It’s baby talk And baby steps Knock, knock Who’s there No one Then come on in Naked and all alone   Rest on the threshold of time Rest on the threshold of awareness But, In all fairness Don’t expect it to last Such is the nature of impermanence Only the bliss shall remain. You can find it once again. When you learn to let go. But, Don’t listen to my advice As you can see I’m still holding on for dear life.
0
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
Mind- door
The Buddhists Teach There is a door Between the conscious and the unconscious On the threshold of awareness Where, from this sleepy place Mind-door takes in space A snap-shot of what’s around The shapes and the sounds Be it red, blue or brown Sensory fed and felt and judged A conceptual conclusion Based on memory and illusion Served up ofttimes with a bit of confusion The sixth sense of inclusion Transcending time and allusion. Knock, knock. Who’s there? The unaware From where? Memory Lane What a pain Insane and mundane Tainted and sainted Familiar and unfamiliar It’s the object and the flavor It only makes sense To bring in the other scents Can you feel it   Through my poetry? Because I have no other way      I’m sending you the sweetest berry In bloom And tea scented perfume For some lazy afternoon. Starting out so poetic Descended into the prosaic I’d like to stay in those high-minded places Between the sheets of my faces I’m at peace and war with myself No one else. I know I shouldn’t get attached Shrug it off with panache When I think about impermanence Makes me cringe and   create another circumstance A twirling happenstance A devil’s dance A devilish lance It’s getting better Like frankincense Then it fades Like the past tense How does one let go When clinging’s become a way of life? A hunting knife couldn’t pry My pathetic fingers lose Holding on to A hangman’s noose I’d scream and rail Holding on To the nail That pierced my travail As life stomped and pounded grounded me down But, I wouldn’t let go. Oh no, not me Fool that I am Was it a question of pride? A fear of the night The ego chasing its’ tale Personal blackmail? A forgotten memory A mishmash Lack of mindfulness A Pandora's box? Nonetheless, I confess A little bit of everything. I tell myself Baby steps Baby steps Baby’s need to let go And fall and get up Or they won’t learn to walk Or talk or grow up It’s baby talk And baby steps Knock, knock Who’s there No one Then come on in Naked and all alone   Rest on the threshold of time Rest on the threshold of awareness But, In all fairness Don’t expect it to last Such is the nature of impermanence Only the bliss shall remain. You can find it once again. When you learn to let go. But, Don’t listen to my advice As you can see I’m still holding on for dear life.
bo-tansky
Written by
bo-tansky
100/F/Florida
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
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