#koan
The king has the key
to the locks on the outside
and that is precisely the problem
for that king is me
locked up in this pyramid
It's a koan
and it's not funny
Desperately I shout answers
in the dark, groping
I stumble on and
at last the door opens
to another dark room
so Vantablack that depth disappears
I am blind, too tired to cry
I sit down, lie down
in a fantasised sarcophagus -
buried in myself, sinking
out of my consciousness
Nov 18, 2025
Nov 18, 2025 at 2:36 AM UTC
You may call it Sky.
I call it Blue Breeze.
You may call it Sun.
I call it Zen.
You may call it Rose.
I call it Reason.
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 1:32 PM UTC
The flag blew,
asking
Is it wind or flag which moves?
Wise man speaks:
It's you.
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 4:01 PM UTC
Then I heard the sound
of only one clapping hand –
and my cheek turned red.
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 3:46 AM UTC
like koans
halting in their tracks
your logical thought
processes like a train, black and long
when it runs in a padded room
small, silent, white
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 4:46 PM UTC
Set your bundle down
Satori in an instant
Pick your bundle up
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
The great orator
With open ears I listen
For the wind speaks not
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
*( Haiku )
1
black God
Huge cumulus clouds,
Exploding into the blue,
. . . Shadowed by raven
2
valley morn
Dark hands working fields,
Raven tracing mountain crests,
. . . Carnal tillers wake
3
Raven spell
Dark sound raven makes,
Chortles top fir tree, haunting—
. . . Druids incantation
4
unfaithful
Snow covers valley—
Solitary raven staining world,
. . . Love has turned black
5
outcast
Many years alone,
Suddenly— old thoughts of her,
. . . Lone raven in sky
6
mischief
Lone raven cackles . . .
Clouds splinter across the sky,
. . . Mist cuts down the woods
7
marked
Full moon crowns tall pine,
Raven landing in cross hairs,
. . . Dark angels halo
8
Loki
Raven knows a charm,
A child's costume jewelry,
. . . Colours a black eye
9
tall tale
Zenith of winter—
Lone raven in naked tree,
. . . Spring only legend
10
dark angel
In his feathered dress . . .
Raven shrouds beneath the clouds,
. . . Even eyes are black*
.
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
( Haiku )
1
black God
Huge cumulus clouds,
Exploding into the blue,
. . . Shadowed by raven
2
valley morn
Dark hands working fields,
Raven tracing mountain crests,
. . . Carnal tillers wake
3
Raven spell
Dark sound raven makes,
Chortles top fir tree, haunting—
. . . Druids incantation
4
unfaithful
Snow covers valley—
Solitary raven staining world,
. . . Love has turned black
5
outcast
Many years alone,
Suddenly— old thoughts of her,
. . . Lone raven in sky
6
mischief
Lone raven cackles . . .
Clouds splinter across the sky,
. . . Mist cuts down the woods
7
marked
Full moon crowns tall pine,
Raven landing in cross hairs,
. . . Dark angels halo
8
Loki
Raven knows a charm,
A child's costume jewelry,
. . . Colours a black eye
9
tall tale
Zenith of winter—
Lone raven in naked tree,
. . . Spring only legend
10
dark angel
In his feathered dress . . .
Raven shrouds beneath the clouds,
. . . Even eyes are black
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 2:48 PM UTC
The other day in a bar
a young man threw down,
called me out, and Said,
"How do you
become a poet,
oldtimer?"
I sat my bourbon down,
looked him dead in the eye,
thought I might fling
an impossible koan
to take him out,
but instead I answered.
"Listen close and I'll tell you true.
It's all in the Muse, kid.
Not a muse; The Muse.
The only Muse for you.
And you'd better start looking now
because it can take your whole life."
I finished my drink.
"Next time," I said," ask me why
the bridge flows, but the water
is motionless."
He sat stunned,
philosophically
out-gunned.
I sat my empty glass down
and slowly walked away.
Another notch on the handle
of my Karma pistol.
No matter how good you are,
they just keep coming.
~mce
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
When I look into her eyes,
I see my face before I was born.
Ha! Take that Zen Master.
Throw me a hard one next time.
~mce
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
Am I drinking
the whiskey
or is the whiskey
drinking me?
Hmm...
- mce
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 9:45 AM UTC
Watching my
demented mother
water plastic flowers
on her porch,
I come near
to seeing my face
before I was born.
~ mce
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
"Impulse is master",
said the learned man.
"It brings disaster
to a pondered plan."
*But what about choice?
That's what I've been taught.*
Trying speech, no voice
came, instead forethought
echoed through my head:
speak, and you'll be trapped!
I sat, mute as lead;
the man, smiling, clapped.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
when the story ended before it's beginning
there wasn't any trace of anything
even on the event horizon
the creator didn't have any chance,
to make up anything
on the drawing board of his being
couldn't sense what was meant of him
the plot hasn't sprouted anywhere
in the vast field of thought fertile
so no need ever did arise to forget anything
there wasn't any apparition of good or evil, love or hate,
that'd appear on earth, fire, air, space or water; not even nothing.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
Are you the dynamic person you said you are 4,000 years ago? With no intoxication the conversation’s a bore. The stakes aren't high enough. I’m conditioned by the narrative and we’re all pretentiously pedantic, spewing poison at the heroic romantics.
I've lost my coper’s cloak. I remember how I dropped the dry ones at the river bank, I cut off my imitator’s finger, and as I fell into the tiger’s pit, I grasped a strawberry to make me sweeter. I crowned the beast a hero, cause out of perfect tiger dharma he tore off the limb that led him from his prison. Yet, the human dharma is to save all beings from our reckless peering.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC