by you
dear Sun
is life;
and through you too is death

I lie asleep
and you send in
beams of messengers
each with the same warm words:
*‘Hey, lazybones –
wakie! wakie!’

we trembled in our nights
in the wild
and you shattered the darkness
dear Sun
and you said:
Behold, Creatures -
Behold the Earth!

in the absence
of your rays
dear Sun
the fearful
created God

in remote valleys and hills
and in the forests
where we scavenged
we knew not what we looked for
and what we wanted;
we talked long in open grounds
and discoursed under the trees
and in the night skies
and wondered what the breeze
and the winds spoke of
and what was written on the lakes;
and then we said:
'we have found nothing in these;
let us try
civilization;'
and so we wander in cities now
and we look for entertainment
and we consume and fight
with boredom
with fat and restaurants
and centers to make us well-presented
and we say
in the height of our city wisdom:
*'Let us have our revenge on the
country and the remote valleys
and hills and the deep forests
Let us lay them bare
and eat them from this distance
while we are safe in our cities’

since the first pop use of the phrase
window of opportunity
(was it Bush or Stargate SG-1?)
politicians big and small
corrupt and incorruptible
fallible and infallible
have all bombarded
the media – on radio, in their blogs
and personal sites
newspapers and journals and broadcasts
and through any speech
they get a chance to make
with that ready phrase:
window of opportunity

Oh, turn on the radio
as you drive maybe
and some glum Finance Minister whispers:
* …grab the window of opportunity…
read the papers and some plump Minister of Health says:
…we must grab this window of opportunity…

Oh, whole speeches in the English Language now
are bullet-ridden with that cliche
and of course the financial planners
and educators
and doctors and even unimaginative lovers
they have all jumped in
into this *window of opportunity
till I’m so irritated and angry now
that if I hear one more eminent personality say:
window of opportunity
Oh, the next time – just one more time –
if I hear anyone use that phrase
window of opportunity
I’m going to send in contract window cleaners
and they’ll grab the window-of-opportunity-user by the collar
and throw them out through the window
and clean the window after –
and I’ll assure you,
those contract window cleaners
will not miss that window of opportunity!

here is the forest
the world withdraws a little;
quiet, silent and calm
the trees wait in their own nature

The morning is beautiful, the progress of the day smooth and the evening pleasant and the nights pensive and still. Time moves slowly and thought is as radiant as the sunlight that streams through.

Let us dwell here then a while, where it is peaceful. Let us rest us here awhile where the world drops off, distant from one.

the path leads nowhere
one is drawn to silence;
the leaves glisten
and the breeze speaks
of things past words

*Let us rest then in this, where the clamor ceases, where beauty may keep one company.

just as people sitting
in your spell
soon tire of your charm
so I'm tired of writing lines
to you
as you are bored
being the subject;
but well, wait till
I fall in love again

the forest takes one
for a quiet walk in the morning;
of oneself
and the solitude and the path and the trees
and the air and the stillness and the undefined sunlight;
a moment of lightness, an instant of calm;
did one come from the walk?

the drama unfolds
and the young grow old
while the old go with a curse
I myself am grown into my fifties
and the people I’ve known
who called me Little Boy
have been called to dust and urn and to river over the decades;
and the kids I would kneel before to speak with them
now they say: Do I see you with hunched shoulders?
the earthly hours pass
and generations come and go
with little knowing though of their own flow
the drama unfolds
and the young grow old
while the old go
with a last bite of a fried chicken
places have changed
and villages and forests lain bare
and once where I stood admiring angsanas
and mango trees and peacocks
now I admire lilly-pillies
and hold the koala and the kangaroo as mascots;
people I have called mother, father
and uncle and aunty and grandmother
they now have gone, some without even a good-bye
some smiling and some with unintelligible mutterings
and ah, some in unendurable suffering
while I walk now as time unfurls like a flag in the square;
and the witnesses
of uncountable generations
of immeasurable life
those stars and the sun and the moon
keep me quiet company
and the sunlight uses the leaves in the garden
to whisper to me the secrets of things;
and in my leisure
these words I speak to you
and when I’m gone
through these you may speak with me;
and the ones I have told stories to
now re-tell the stories to their young
and time, interrupting its slumber,
lifts its head like a garden in the snake
awhile
sees all is right, all flowing as it would expect,
and looks around and gives me a look too
and goes back to sleep;
ah, the drama unfolds
and the young grow old
while the old go with a wink

easy and smooth the day
comes and goes
like a falling leaf
or a graceful cat on the roof;
perhaps like drops of dew
drip
drip
drip
gently into the lake of time below;
dawn
morning
midday
afternoon
evening
sunset
dusk
twiligh­t
night
and I'm left in quiet
and the cat-day lies curled in my lounge

one is aware
sleep's gentle hands
release one awhile
to turn over, perhaps
and one is conscious of a gentle light
and one sees the moon between the trees
a wisp of cloud ghost-moves past;
and sleep, the seductress, embraces one again

Moon, I hear you are moving away
Why moon, are you moving away?
Don’t you like your neighbors
earth so blue and green
and earthlings so adorable?
Did you not come so near
to get to know your neighbors?
why then are you moving, moon?
I hear you’re moving slowly,
so slowly your neighbors don’t notice
how considerate of you
Anyway, I’ll be gone before you

M for moon
M for Man
M for Money;
and at last Man has seen the moonlight
and now they know
Man can make Money out of the Moon

you witness my dying
as you see my life, my hopes and desires
and all my embarrassments
and my achievements too,
dear moon
O quiet presence,
O radiant presence all one's life;
and what do you look at these days
in my life
darling moon
what do you see?
you who have seen the child grow old
and you hang out beaming by the window
patiently
to see one more death
to add to the countless you witness
since the day you came

you are there moon;
I thought you were not
and I went to sleep
and I sighed: "She will not come, not tonight;
she has some other lover";
and I went to sleep
and then much later now I wake up
and you've come, out there
and your light full within my room
and your fingers on every cell of my being

cold moon
I am sad;
was it you,
distant moon,
who made me so
tonight?

I will not sing you a song of praise
O gentle moon
there are too many modern people around
too many enlightened minds tonight
they reckon they don't need your light;
there are too many elect
and too many going to Heaven
and if I sang in praise of you
they will throw their Blessed Books at me
and they will say
'You moon-worshiper, you go to hell!'
(they fancy words like idolator)

O so most divine moon
O godly moon
O most sacred moon
I shall not sing in praise of you;
there are too many bloodthirsty wolves around

darling moon
dear moon
do not be offended
we have stripped you
down to rock and a plain face
and we show pictures of you
in black, gray and white;
and though a writer of verse,
in this verse,
I strip you of your romance and aura;
be not angry
for after all,
you will understand,
we are children who come after
Galileo
and Neil Armstrong

ah poor moon
you're just hanging around
and through no fault of your own
you attract all these weirdos
these lunatics
and the vampires and the blood-******* bats
and the sleep-walkers and murderers
and the flesh-eaters
(the moon made me do it!)
and the lunatics
and the werewolves
and even stock-pickers
and wild women who want to **** Orpheus

O poor moon
you're just about your own radiant business
and all these freaks put it at your doorstep

I see you moon
this cool autumn morning
you sing over the river and trees
and you are supported
by your dance troupe of stars

sometimes I wish
dear moon
sometimes I wish
the earth had five moons
and all so positioned
we can see
one every night and then in twos and in threes
never four (just so for mystery’s sake)
and then all five
all in perfect alignment once a year
just three nights so
and then we’ll all here on earth
go ga ga ga
or moo moo moo looooney
those nights and go crazy
and climb up trees and enact our ape ancestry …

and don’t you be jealous
I asked for four others;
I just want more of you –
just never seem to get enough of you

see what’s in mind
bundled in the thoughts
and far and deep within;
see, one says one is of a particular group
or particular region;
hear one say “I am this;”
or “I am that;”
and some cling to a religion or philosophy
and so make a Self;
they identify themselves:
“I am of this religion;”
Or
“I am of this persuasion;”
Or
“I am of this faith;”
see and hear the cacophony of human discord:
“I am of this country;”
“I am of this ancient lineage;”
“This is my religion;”
“This is my faith;”
“I am this…I am that…”

O we love our badges, our titles
and decorations the Great Leader
pins on us, don’t we?
And we love all the fancy ribbons and rewards
the Politburo promises, don’t we?
We just live by our Red Book;
each group with its own Divine Red Book

“Come on, little children
gather round Daddy and Mommy;
we have sweets
and candy for all of thee”

But can one plunge deep and see
and drop one’s conditioning?
And what happens when one does that?
And can one drop one’s history
one's addictions
and beliefs and mental formations and faith
and dependence and identity?
What happens?

Perhaps only then one sees with clarity

what I want to know
what I’d really like to know
before I drop down dead
or crawl into amnesia or alzheimer’s
or whatever;
what I really want to know
(if I can remember it;
let me see if I can recall it,
refresh please….
try and retrieve it from the backwaters of my mind)
yes, what I really want to know
about all this talk about
bad people and all the bad things all the bad guys do
and all this talk about all these selfishness and greed
and all these Look at them! Look at these!
And all this: I don’t know what the world’s coming to!
and all this talk about the vices and bad habits
all the bad things other people do;
what I really want to know is
if everybody’s so good
(O you angels on earth;
O you goody-good brothers and sisters)
pointing to everyone else –
hey, you earthlings,
if everyone of you is so good
as you all appear in each conversation and post –
where are the evil guys
and all the bad guys
and all the bad things you point out,
where are they all coming from
if each one of you is so good?
that’s what I want to know
before I kick the bucket
that is
if I can remember or hear
what I’d wanted to know when the answer comes

What? What’s up with you guys?
can’t a cat have peace in one’s own home, yeah?
never seen a cat eat before?
can’t you just mind your own business
and let a cat do a cat’s business of eating, ha?
HA! - what’s that laugh for?
and for goodness sake put away that camera
You think I’m cute, ha?
wait till I get my paws on you
and a flick of my tail while I’m in mid-air
will take care of your camera
What, you some kind of paparazzi or what?
OK, let a cat eat and you mind own business, yeah?
Oh, I’m really suspicious about you guys
Maybe you’re hungry, yeah?
go get your own food guys;
stop looking at cat food
or at cat as food – I’m really not sure about you guys
You’ll eat anything!
OK, jokes aside
I’ve worked hard my day entertaining you morons
and purring so you can squirm with delight
and curling up in your laps
so you’ll be happy and live longer at my expense
No, I’ve done my work so let me eat in peace
Do your work and go get your own food
That’s better...
Ah, now for some cat food, a catnap after
and some cat peace for a while at least
without adoring humans who think
they’ve got a circus just because they’ve got a cat at home

will this love be pastoral
or gypsy
with abandon and fields and flowers?
dear heart
O dearest love
will it be Parisian
with wine and sophistication?
Will Hamlet and Juliet hold hands here
and Ophelia and Sybil and Cassandra sit in dark corners
watching and casting spells?
will this be Orpheus losing Eurydice
or the love of shepherds unheard of and un-noted in history
and loving with great lust and dying in old age and quiet…
I do not know, I do not know
for I have no power of prophecy.
Do you, sweetest love?
Perhaps you use the Book of I-Ching?

today’s theme
dearest love, O unknowing love
is the gentleness that is you;
it is the quiet
like the yin in the Dao
unformed, not fixed and forming
in constant flow;
and gentle and open and soft
and its softness its strength;
and so today I saw that, I felt that in you
in your word, in your gesture
in your walk across the aisle;
and your softness follows me home to my quiet dreams
like the shadows below the trees

I will not tell you
nor will I envision how I shall love you;
for indeed I do not know…
so how indeed shall we love?
shall we love like the other-worldly
who say love is all spirit and so will not touch
and are afraid of the pleasures of thrusts and friction
but are all ecstasy in imagined future states
and have no sensations in present bodies?
how indeed shall I love?
I do not think I shall love you
like no lover has since the beginning of love;
I shall not declare such love
in unique ways and how I shall love
and how we shall dine, and eat and converse and be in bed
and build ourselves a home and castles in the air
that shall keep us for eternity
that shall thus render death incapable of doing us apart
I do not see how I shall love
and we do not speak what love will be:
I shall surprise myself;
indeed
we will surprise the moment,
that time itself will turn back and say: *Oh!

but when we are not there
in the space circumstances bring us together
and we are away,
separate as we came to this earth,
you are but spirit to me, it appears;
though the body and the image
and your mannerisms are there in my mind
and if I clutch the pillow and repeat your name
and you, imagined phantom lying in my bed,
croon back and tease;
even then you are but a ghost of love
a possibility, an imagination
a flicker of a light in a mind of heat and red fire;
and O, did you know? -
night and space and distance mock me so;
and though the day brings us together
and we may share time and space
and there you are physical in all your various avatars
in all the colors and fabrics that our world gives us
still, still, you are,
O dearest love,
you are but a phantom that plays tricks in my mind;
you are innocent and pure; my mind drags me into the pits

it does not seem to be a complete love
this love that seems to grow on me
that grows over you;
for one day like today it is your smile I remember
as I drive home
and it is that which hovers in my dream;
and the other day was each eyebrow
its shine and the arch and the way each flickered like leaves
a while on the ground;
and what was it the other evening?
they were the gentle hands you placed on the table
in asking a question;
and Saturday
your shoulders followed me home;
it never seems to be a complete love
it never seems to complete itself
and it’s so focused on parts;
O could it not take all of you
all together
in one integrated love
one complete love?
and still it grows like a seedling or lava or pupa
or even a tadpole
this my love for you
this evolving, this growing
(I did not know if I wanted it
but growing, there is no longer one’s will)
and your voice for example,
the way certain words come off your tongue
the dialect and regional difference
and like my name too sounded like no one else can;
and that accidental brush between us too
(and each uttered “Sorry”
and each reached out to steady the other)
and the sensation
was transported through my flesh
and pleasure
and flesh became part of the love too
and so it is never complete;
like a jigsaw puzzle this love
though the parts all fall together I must say
and the picture is clear at the end
like a classic ****** mystery too, just as tense;
and there it seems the love is complete –
and yet it is not complete, for it is still in silence
and impressions and wishes unspoken and unexpressed
that is the genesis and growing of this love
like a soap-opera
that comes in installments and is never complete

Frog 2
Hey, how’s that in the water?
I saw you dive in
and the water spread out a little;
you disappeared a while
and now I see you translucent
but you seem happy
as carefree
as when we were tadpoles;
tell me how it is…


Frog 1
*You silly frog;
all the description
and text I can give you
all words and expositions will not suffice:
just jump in and see for yourself

and now, most dignified Gentlemen
and most cultured Ladies -
it is time to turn our attention
to loftier matters, to speak of the spirit
rather than of mundane concerns and
to be stuck in unimaginative and non-inspiring
habits;
and so we turn our attention to the spirits
to the spiritual
to such high matters
to things that lift us above time and our bodies
and such points in reality and frail flesh
that binds us and make little of us;
but the spirit, most sane Sirs,
elevates us;
the spirit, most elegant Ladies,
liberates us;
and so we begin
with bottle in hand, in deed
(look, every religion has its symbols);
and  through several drops of this holy water
(several gulps will hasten the magic and miracle)
we are  indeed hand in hand with
the Spirit of all spirits
for what matters it if you hold or invoke
gin, ***, tequila, ***** or whisky
whatever it is that one lifts
one is lifted by
and that One one lifts is the Grand Spirit…
and you see transformations occur,
the mind is released from the mundane and the pedestrian
and the ordinary;
and one may see light, there is a sense of lightness
and those who may be touched by the Grand Spirit
may actually levitate
and one has visions and ecstasies
all through the spirit,
most Spiritual Sirs
most Lofty Ladies…
and mock not this religion of spirits
for have not masses of humanity all through History
done the same in the name of religion?
Does not humanity do all of the same with
the Great Spirit they call God and
do not they too have visions and ecstasies
and feel the spirit move them and
are always aiming High?
Their senses and wits dulled
but their spirits going on high?
Drunk on high
with words, words, words...
And are they not in their true religion
moved by God and have such grand visions?
and will you then -
O ye vipers!
Ye hypocrites! -
mock the spirit
when you will  
sanction and approve and dance
in the midst of those who drink religion?
will you denigrate your brothers  
and sisters
in the spirit?
Oh, you who are drunk and revel in the name of God
and holy books and repeated words
will you judge those drunk in the name of the spirit
and radiant revelations  that come to them
when they are moved by the spirit?
Judge not, ye hypocrites!
Judge not, lest ye be judged!
And so we end this sermon in amicable spirit,
in unity, in spiritual oneness
between
those who drink of the high of religion
and those who drink of the spirit we have spoken of
Go ye forth hand in hand then
as siblings
for ye that worship in the name of religion
and ye that have ecstasy in your own holy bottled spirit
ye are but brothers and sisters
moved by the One Spirit…
Go ye forth together, go in ecstasy, go high…

Socrates hears
the gods declare him
the wisest mortal alive;
Socrates wants to know if this is true
(for what do I know? I know nothing)
and over the years,
questions every wisdom celebrity alive;
and in turn,
the wise ones reduce his years -
an abrupt end to his years -
when it comes to their turn
to question him at his trial

Socrates dies, sleep easy, dear Athens;
Socrates is found guilty
of asking questions,
one too many;
Socrates is subject to our justice
fair and just and open;
O Socrates dies, sleep easy, dear world,
for Socrates is found guilty
and condemned to die;
Socrates drinks hemlock
and
the questions die with him
and all our answers are safe
and we can blissfully go to bed
for all our fixed answers are safe!

Li Po sits drinking wine;
he is in his garden
below the tree
reciting his poems to the night
and he sings to the cool air
and he sings to the moon
and he drinks more in between


Li Po walks to the lake
and he sings to the moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now


and Li Po walks to his boat
and he rows his boat
and he rows his boat gleefully
and he rows singing
and Li Po is in the middle of the lake
and he stops there to look at his beloved
whose radiant wholeness
shimmers in the water


and Li Po sings always
his song of love to his moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now



and Li Po jumps into the lake
and he struggles and he swims
and he swims and he struggles
and he sings:
I come to you, beloved,
I come to you
you who have waited centuries for me
radiant and a-glow in the sky
I come to you now



and he swims towards the distorted moon in the lake
and he beats his hands at the moon in the lake
and Li Po struggles
and Li Po clutches at the watery moon
and Li Po is his with his beloved
after centuries he is come
and Li Po is with his love
Li Po is with his beloved moon:
Li Po drowns to the moon; Li Po flies to the moon

What have we here?
Let us read;
this scroll
one of a thousand
sent us in haste
by the Duke of Dei;
Oh, a poem of love -
surprise! - it is
written in fine ink
and with the best brush
one can buy in all of China


And ladies, now I read
this poem of screaming passion:

“Oh lady of blue!
who spends her time
in the blue pavilion!
my mind is blue!
all for the love of you!
and my heart is broken!
in pieces too!
for you do not love me!
though I love you true!”


Ah, true, true indeed
I do not love this poet
with purple verse
and broken limbs of lines;
the poor duke’s heart is broken
just like his rhyme and reason;
come let us pen an answer
and his delicate ladies
will bring it back to him


“Oh Duke of Dei
whose heart is broken
like pots of China;
blue, blue is your mind
for the desperate love
of the lady in blue
who does not love you:
but there is some solution
some solution for your broken heart
O Duke of Dei –
some glue, some glue
can hold together the broken pieces;
Your True Lady in Blue
who is almost turning blue –
for the thousandth time,
I do not love you”

You see Diogenes living in the slums. He lives in a barrel. This is the man even Alexander the Great admires. So it makes you wonder about Diogenes.

So you pretend to be there quite by accident and you ask: “Diogenes…Who was your teacher?”

“A mouse was my teacher,” says Diogenes.

You are quite confused. And you say: "A mouse is your teacher? And how is that, Diogenes? "

“Well, most exquisite Sir,” says Diogenes to you. “Most cultured Sir,” he says. “I had no home and I was in the streets. I almost killed myself. Then I saw mouse. Mouse ran around and looked for food and it found some and I observed mouse for over two days. And I realized how resourceful mouse was. And then I said to myself: ‘Learn of the mouse, Diogenes- and all will be well.’ And so I learned of mouse. And every time I have a problem, I simply ask myself: ‘How will mouse solve this?’ And so mouse became my teacher. And now, most Exquisite Sir, I have a problem. You. I want to get rid of you and I ask myself: ‘How would mouse solve this problem?’ He would bite…”

You listen to this and you are afraid – and you run. And Diogenes has done well; he has learned well from his teacher. And you can hear him shouting to you: “By the way, who was your teacher?”

You know
lovely moon
Li Po
was drunk
and he paddled out to you
seeing your reflection
and he jumped into the lake
embracing you in the waters
and so he drowned;
but
you know,
loving moon,
I will not come to you thus;
instead you know my time
and you will drown
in the lake shadows of my quiet

1
five moons for earth
sometimes I wish
dear moon
sometimes I wish
the earth had five moons
and all so positioned
we can see
one every night and then in twos and in threes
never four (just so for mystery’s sake)
and then all five
all in perfect alignment once a year
just three nights so
and then we’ll all here on earth
go ga ga ga
or moo moo moo looooney
those nights and go crazy
and climb up trees and enact our ape ancestry …

and don’t you be jealous
I asked for four others;
I just want more of you –
just never seem to get enough of you


2
I see you moon
I see you moon
this cool autumn morning
you sing over the river and trees
and you are supported
by your belly-dance troupe of stars




3
ah poor moon
ah poor moon
you're just hanging around
and through no fault of your own
you attract all these weirdos
these lunatics
and the vampires and the blood-******* bats
and the sleep-walkers and murderers
and the flesh-eaters
(the moon made me do it!)
and the lunatics
and the werewolves
and even stock-pickers
and wild women who want to **** Orpheus

O poor moon
you're just about your own radiant business
and all these freaks put it at your doorstep


4
dear moon, you will understand
darling moon
dear moon
do not be offended
we have stripped you
down to rock and a plain face
and we show pictures of you
in black, gray and white;
and though a writer of verse,
in this verse,
I strip you of your romance and aura;
be not angry
for after all,
you will understand,
we are children who come after
Galileo
and Neil Armstrong



5
Li Po, the moon and me
You know
lovely moon
Li Po
was drunk
and he paddled out to you
seeing your reflection
and he jumped in to the lake
embracing you in the waters
and so he drowned;
but,
you know
loving moon,
I will not come to you thus;
instead you know my time
and you will drown
in the lake shadows of my quiet


6
in praise of the moon
I will not sing you a song of praise
O gentle moon
there are too many modern people around
too many enlightened minds tonight
they reckon they don't need your light;
there are too many elect
and too many going to Heaven
and if I sang in praise of you
they will throw their Blessed Books at me
and they will say
'You moon-worshiper, you go to hell!'
(they fancy words like idolator)

O so most divine moon
O godly moon
O most sacred moon
I shall not sing in praise of you;
there are too many bloodthirsty wolves around


7
was it you, mooon?
cold moon
I am sad;
was it you,
distant moon,
who made me so
tonight?


8
you are there moon
you are there moon;
I thought you were not
and I went to sleep
and I sighed: "She will not come, not tonight;
she has some other lover";
and I went to sleep
and then much later now I wake up
and you've come, out there
and your light full within my room
and your fingers on every cell of my being



9
you witness my dying
you witness my dying
as you see my life, my hopes and desires
and all my embarrassments
and my achievements too,
dear moon;
O quiet presence,
O radiant presence all one's life;
and what do you look at these days
in my life
darling moon
what do you see?
you who have seen the child grow old
and you hang out beaming by the window
patiently
to see one more death
to add to the countless you witness
since the day you came

10
M for Man, Money and Moon
M for moon
M for Man
M for Money;
and at last Man has seen the moonlight
and now they know
Man can make Money out of the Moon

11
Moon, I hear you are moving away
Moon, I hear you are moving away
Why moon, are you moving away?
Don’t you like your neighbor
earth so blue and green
and earthlings so adorable?
Did you not come so near
to get to know your neighbor well?
why then are you moving, moon?
maybe you’ve come to know us well
I hear you’re moving slowly,
so slowly your neighbor doesn’t notice;
how considerate of you
Anyway, I’ll be gone before you

1
in the absence
of your rays
dear Sun
the fearful
created God


2
we trembled in our nights
in the wild
and you shattered the darkness
and you said:
‘Behold, Creatures -
Behold the Earth!’


3
I lie asleep
and you send in
beams of messengers
dear Sun
each with the same message:
‘Hey, lazybones –
wakie! wakie!’


4
by you
dear Sun
is life;
and through you
too is death


5
O setting Sun
do not drag my
heart down with you;
for it’s known in nations
where you do not shine as often
you ****** cheer and smiles away
till you come again;
do not let then my heart
dear Sun
sink with you




6
sun crazy sun
very disobedient and ill-tempered
unwilling to listen
to shine not too hot and not scorch the earth;
and show-off
and bad-tempered with its flares


7
see
the creatures of the earth
burrow deep
and go to sleep
in your absence;
and they come again
kicking and hungry
when you shine



8
I see you in the flower
that blooms it seems at random;
and I see you too
in the leaves of the lilly-pilly at my window




9
one must see the sun
or feel it
oneself



10
I think
you’re one hot blonde,
O Sun babe;
on this side of the universe
no one’s as hot as you



11
the clouds try catching you;
they are little children
and they think you are a ball
they can throw to one another


12
sometimes I wonder
in the loneliness of night
where you are
and then I see you
bouncing off the moon;
ha!
she rejects your advances


13
they look at the sun
but do not know how to see;
poets interpret it
as children play with clouds
and the holy ones attempt to
squeeze the sun into their texts

in remote valleys and hills
and in the forests
where we scavenged
we knew not what we looked for
and what we wanted;
we talked long in open grounds
and discoursed under the trees
and in the night skies
and wondered what the breeze
and the winds spoke of
and what was written on the lakes;
and then we said:
'we have found nothing in these;
let us try
civilization;'
and so we wander in cities now
and we look for entertainment
and we consume and fight
with boredom
with fat and restaurants
and centers to make us well-presented
and we say
in the height of our city wisdom:
'Let us have our revenge on the
country and the remote valleys
and hills and the deep forests
Let us lay them bare
and eat them from this distance
while we are safe in our cities’

if a 100 years from now
one might read this poem
and my other posts
and one says:
‘Wow, how marvelous
these writings’
Then I’d say:
‘You never learn, do you?’




If a 100 years from now
one might read this poem
and my other posts
and one says
‘Hmmm…what *******
writing all these silly stuff’
Then I’d say
‘You never learn, do you?’



But if a 100 years from now
one reads this poem
and one says
‘Hmmmm...well, that’s interesting
but let me do my own thinking’
Then I’d say:
‘Humanity has come a long way’


And if indeed you now
in contemporary time
if you should read this post
and you should say:
‘Look, let me do my own thinking’
Than I’d say:
‘Yes, surely, the next 100 years is do-able’

last night
as I went to bed
I said to the stars
outside my window:
‘My, how bright
and radiant
you are tonight’


and then I
went to sleep
and it must be hours later
when I woke up
with full gentle light
on my face
and the moon now outside
my window said:
‘Hey, I heard you say goodnight
to the stars –
but you left me out, mate’


‘OK, good night,’
I said
and turned over and
went back to sleep


so tonight
I’ll be sure to bid
sweet dreams to both stars
and the moon
but I bet
that silly possum
from somewhere in the park
will roll-tumble-rumble
(just as I’ve gone deep into sleep)
all about on my roof
and wake me up
and peep down
with its head at my windows
and it’ll say:
‘Hey mate, wake up –
I came to say good night’

earthquakes
and such disasters
are caused by immodest women;
if you are wise you will see this truth


women
indecently dressed
and accentuating contours
cause excitement in vigorous young men;
if you are spiritual you will see this truth


the men who thus get excited
(and it’s all the women’s fault, you will agree)
and so are led astray by such women
and this causes adultery
and such immorality which
results in seismic activity
and so you have earthquakes;
if you are pure you will see this truth


it’s true
because adulterers
do it more vigorously
hence the earth trembles
more readily

who’s this dead
run over by cars
and maybe trucks
found at five am
as I drive up Milton Road?
who’s this dead?
head pressed flat
and close to the road
tummy split open
and never too early for crows;
and fur still clear on the tar
and limbs outstretched
who is this dead?
poor misfit creature
who can’t negotiate our roads
who are you,
you gentle creature?
some gentle being who came down
from the trees at night
perhaps taking a walk
or looking for food
and knocked down dead
by tyres and such power

I'm content in this life
and with no desire
for loyalty rewards after


and penalties, if so,
I leave to Any
who might honestly think
it right to judge

this is an unnecessary poem
and so is
any comment
or reaction in the mind
or scribble
totally unnecessary

you know
that little bird that’s
on the tree
and sings when it wants to
and then just sits
just looking about?
you’ve seen that thin cloud
in the vast clear blue sky
that little wisp of cotton
that seems so aimless
and so pointless?
have you seen it?
and that small leaf
that appears overnight
perhaps on a creeper you keep
in a small vase at your desk?

well, I just breathe and go like that -
yes, I do what must be done
like brushing my teeth
and going to the supermarket
and withdrawing money
and making some -
but mostly I’d float like the cloud or
grow like the creeper or chirp like the bird
and I have no more time than the present
and no awe for anything or anyone
and I have no ambition for eternity either
so thank you very much

the evening sunlight falls on the lily-pilly
and the green leaves come ablaze
and the birds fly over in the sky
and the clouds spend their short lives
forming shapes and playing games:
it is all here before me
and I observe
and I am here too;
and there is no dogma or belief
or any book to live one's life by
one is free of all conditioning
and one observes the world as it is

"What is the Dao,
Lao Tzu?"

Says Lao Tzu:
"That which can be described
that is not the Dao"