"commies" poems - Hello Poetry

#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition; and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner, the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful, obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing, the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*. The Tibetan Book of the Dead translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup Free Tibet your sticker tells me… Yes, I think, perhaps I should – and the noble thought compels me, uninformed, half-understood. Will their freedom help my Karma? Upgrade my reincarnation? (Soul who could not dare to harm a fly… much less a Buddhist nation.) Not to justify aggression by the ever-brutal Commies, let us grant no glib concession to the Maoists – or their mommies. Slogans echo in the void, shining in bardos of the dead; stopped by the light, I am annoyed impatient for the change from red. A bumper crop of human woe beams forth a mandate to my brain while red Dakinis circle slow in Buddhist hells of karmic pain. The eastern concepts here diverge and bow before brutality. They make this driver long to merge with incorporeality. Then I glimpse a monkish fellow swathed in saffron, calmly seated. His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow; mine the traffic; stalled, defeated. In his gaze of stern displeasure I perceive the orient stars calculating man’s mismeasure trapped, exhausted, among the cars. Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire he extends an accusing hand: Western slave of base desire: come and liberate my land !” I meditate before the stop light: am I ready for the task ? Should I just refuse it outright Can’t it be someone else ? I ask… Must I free this mountain nation from the Buddha, demons and Reds? Shall your sticker’s declaration shatter the yoke and raise their heads ? Somebody ought to free Tibet, and heed this Himalayan cry. Maybe we should get upset… The red light changes. Cars pass by, predestined for benign events and unconcerned for persecution; oblivious to dissidents awaiting execution.

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Dec 14, 2015

Dec 14, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC

connecthook

Exhausted Karma

#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition; and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner, the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful, obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing, the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*. The Tibetan Book of the Dead translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup Free Tibet your sticker tells me… Yes, I think, perhaps I should – and the noble thought compels me, uninformed, half-understood. Will their freedom help my Karma? Upgrade my reincarnation? (Soul who could not dare to harm a fly… much less a Buddhist nation.) Not to justify aggression by the ever-brutal Commies, let us grant no glib concession to the Maoists – or their mommies. Slogans echo in the void, shining in bardos of the dead; stopped by the light, I am annoyed impatient for the change from red. A bumper crop of human woe beams forth a mandate to my brain while red Dakinis circle slow in Buddhist hells of karmic pain. The eastern concepts here diverge and bow before brutality. They make this driver long to merge with incorporeality. Then I glimpse a monkish fellow swathed in saffron, calmly seated. His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow; mine the traffic; stalled, defeated. In his gaze of stern displeasure I perceive the orient stars calculating man’s mismeasure trapped, exhausted, among the cars. Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire he extends an accusing hand: Western slave of base desire: come and liberate my land !” I meditate before the stop light: am I ready for the task ? Should I just refuse it outright Can’t it be someone else ? I ask… Must I free this mountain nation from the Buddha, demons and Reds? Shall your sticker’s declaration shatter the yoke and raise their heads ? Somebody ought to free Tibet, and heed this Himalayan cry. Maybe we should get upset… The red light changes. Cars pass by, predestined for benign events and unconcerned for persecution; oblivious to dissidents awaiting execution.