"gautama" poems
#1. What in the world
possessed you
to do that!?@#$%^
My god . . . that was so stupid and careless!
#2. Why? . . .
I trusted my intuition.
My heart believed,
emotional logic compelled me.
Fluid, spontaneous from the gut.
#1. You’re crazy.
I would never
put myself at risk like that.
#2. What risk?
Getting harrassed
by the mind police?
They don't own me.
#1. But they punished you.
#2. No, just a little
desperate flaggelation.
#2. But look at yourself
all boxed up,
stigmatized and branded.
#1. You mean the labels?
Those words they use
to define me?
#2. Yes, you’re a bad person.
#1. No, I’m not.
#2. Yes, you are.
... and they argued til dawn
neither knowing
nature does not declare winners
but admires innovation....
like when Magellan sailed off no edges
when Einstein confounded everyone by sailing in his head
when the Wright Brothers lifted off
when Tesla moved electrons
when Christ embraced the centurions
when Gautama just sat down
when the librarian refused to take Catcher in the Rye off the shelf
when Lenny Bruce swore on stage
when Leary and Alpert left Harvard
when Joan of Arc refused to recant
when Gandhi and friends burned their English wool
when Jung declared a spiritual psyche
when the UFC earned a huge Neilsen
so be your own guru
take kava kava instead of Prozac
barter with your hair stylist
and when someone says
you are wrong
ask them why
there are no dinosaurs
in the Bible.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 9:18 AM UTC
[Dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi, the greatest Fraud of all times]
Darkness like Halagu Khan is running
taking sword in hand;
Light is fleeing raising its tail.
The decorated dream-city will lose its
electricity for ever;
in all directions, the slogan of hyenas
will be heard only.
Going to the shade of Bodhi Tree,
I asked Gautama Buddha,
'By tasting which poisonous fruit,
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in massacre
in Myanmar? '
Hanging his head, said Gautama, 'Darkness.'
Going to Bethlehem, I asked Jesus Christ,
'By drinking which grape-juice,
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in massacre in Mosul,
Baghdad and Syria singing of democracy? '
Hanging his head, said Jesus, 'Darkness.'
Going to the holy home of Moses,
I bowed down my head and said, 'Would you
tell me, by eating which Manna and Salwa
your disciples have become insane
and have been involved in killing children
and women in holy Palestine? '
Hanging his head, said Moses, 'Darkness.'
Going to Mathura city, I said to Lord Krishna,
'Please tell me, by eating which food
offering to deity, your disciples have become
insane and have been involved in massacre
in Kashmir, Delhi and Gujarat? '
Hanging his head, said Krishna, 'Darkness.'
Darkness like Halagu Khan is running
taking sword in hand;
Light is fleeing raising its tail.
Again the days of darkness have descended on earth.
I have been searching Abdul-Muttalib's son
Abdullah's house in Pharaoh's city—
in such a thick darkness, no doubt,
the Sun of the desert had risen
in the lap of Amina!
[Translated by the poet from Bengali]
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
All lines are controversial
Average performance is extremely intelligent,
My answer to the riddle is this God never wrote fables
In the bible, Qur’an, Gita, Ramayana, Dini ya Musambwa
Nor anything you will mention that amount to mankind's
Mental peregrinations in search for God.
Jewish literature in the form of the bible
Is strongly successful as a misleading literature
And firmly founded in racial prejudice.
Similarly the Qur'an is Arabic adjustment
Of Jewish literature in the bible.
The Apocryphal of them all is enigmatic.
The sons of Asia are dangerously gifted in literature
And their epics often form religion, think of Tagore’s poem
That became Indian nation anthem,
Karl Marx's das kapitel that became revolutionary religion
Blue print or even Gautama's sermons recited by Jesus Christ
Six hundred years later as a sermon on the mountain.
Now; to me Asians must stop racial chauvinism
And accept humanity as there are very many human beings
Who are living away from Jerusalem and are prosperous
Both economically and spiritually, take a case of Vatican.
In my faith therefore, God himself
will give Jerusalem to African immigrants in Palestine and Israel,
Because Abraham was a refugee in Africa,
Ishmael was born in Africa; Jesus was a refugee in Africa
And even a Libyan; Simon the Cyrene helped him
To carry the ominous Roman cross, doen to Calvary
Thus, Christianity is founded on the innocent misery of an African race.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
I have residue in my blood of every lover I've ever had,
pulsing through my veins,
making my head swell,
making my legs shake.
You call me Siddhartha
Siddhartha Gautama
I am The Buddha, you say.
Understanding everything is connected.
At total peace, gone to pieces as
my heart pumps blood so hard my legs shake to the beat.
Om above my bed,
every of the seven chakras jumbled because
I have trouble letting go.
More often,
I have trouble holding on.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
Torna a decir, Morena, cuanto decías.
Como yo soy la noche, ábre los ojos.
Cierra los ojos, ciérralos, porque yo soy el día.
Torna a decir, Morena, tu canción.
Como te amo, dáme a aspirar el humo de tu pensamiento.
Si no te amase, ya me darías tu corazón.
Torna a decir, Morena, tu luz y tu mentira.
Como yo no te creo, será una bella historia.
Si te creyese, serías tú, serías sólo tú misma. 1
Torna a decir, Morena, tu dolor único.
Si eres ajena, dáme tus labios secos.
Si fueras mía yo te hurtaría los labios húmedos. 2
Torna a decir, Morena, tu dolor.
Si eres ajena, dame tus labios, dame;
Si fueras mía te daría mi compasión. 3
Torna a decir, Morena, torna, torna a decir.
Como yo soy Gautama, da lo mismo.
Lo mismo da: soy Harún-el-Rashid.
Lo mismo da, mi Negra Sheherazada,
mi Dinarzada Oscura: da lo mismo.
Pero dame, dame tu boca para besarla.
Torna a decir, morena, tu rapsodia.
Como yo soy la noche, abre tus ojos.
Mas soy el día: préstame tu boca.
Abre tus ojos para ver la noche,
si no me amas. Como sí me amas,
abre tus ojos... para ver la noche!
Danza, Morena. Danza, mi Tanagra,
mi Figulina: el sobrio cuerpo ondula:
tras de tus siete velos recatada,
si eres ajena, te veré desnuda...
Mas si eres mía, oh Mía, danza sin velos, danza:
Gautama soy, Gautama, el propio Budha!
1.2k
I miss you
As Charon revolves around Pluto,
And a lunar eclipse reveals itself for once in a generation....
For once in my generation...
I miss you
Like i miss me.
Siddhartha Gautama wandered
Purposely into a forest,
And learned a wealth of consciousness.
I miss you.
I miss you like arid land misses water,
I miss you.
I miss you like a mortal misses forever,
I miss you.
I miss you like I miss me,
I miss you.
I miss you like art
Misses a retired artist,
I miss you like I miss me,
I miss you...
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
(Originally written 12/21/10,
Revised 9/23/14)
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
stories are full of flying animals and talking birds,
Gautama rushes home evening,
hoping to listen some from mom or dad,
dad seems always busy in conference calls
with north american clents.
every night with out fail
dad tells the same excuse.
mom comes late at night tired and irritated,
Bangalore, sure rides the wave of global IT boom,
Gautama, all of five, thinks , a child here lives in hell.
no one has time to read a story to a child
life has become a mad rush to and back from school.
no one these days not even ask,"why Gautama doesn't smile?"
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 6:14 AM UTC
Autumn scattered allover sorrow and leafs,
But sun will shine not knowing the griefs.
Amun -Ra in other world is happy at last:
Elvish prophet predicted the forecast.
Legends and myths give us hope everyday,
Make think how actually close is Milk Way
And Peter Apostle sometimes with Athena
Waltzing in sands of Coliseum arena .
You know, I do believe in Jesus the Christ
Prophets of Muhammad are highly priced
I share wisdom of Gautama the Buddha
In my dreams Vishnu appeared on Garuda.
See nymphs enjoying dew drop in a dawn
Letter on ground made by steps of a faun.
As fables flocking like river through wood,
I shall always believe in love and in Good.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
Serenity of the Buddha fountain
graces our garden
His wise presence flows
steadily over thorns, thistle
and rocks that jut across the pathway
creating obstacles in our lives
There was turmoil, misery,
calamity in His generation
just like today
The Ravanas of our time
prowl earth’s gardens
seeking to abduct and ravage
goodness, love, purity, truth
Illustrious Gautama gained the perfect
peace that passeth understanding
by treading the middle path and realizing
that pushing the envelope
indulging in all types of extreme behavior
sabotages our mental, emotional and physical
well being
He declared to His disciples as they
wandered through the world that
desire is the cause of all suffering
and like the Master Jesus encouraged them
“to be in the world not of it”
This He knew could be actualized by
the right use of the senses,
loving, compassionate service to mankind
and having a still, tranquil mind
through the process of
meditation
Twilight dusk blankets the garden
The Buddha twinkling under a
panorama of evening stars
a crystal ball spinning luminously
in his hands
illumines our beaten path
from His radiant pedestal,
beneath the Bodhi tree
“The Sun of Enlightenment Shines”
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
Hopery, changery, stranger-than-strangery
tip the good vicar your hat—
as he sits with Obama, the global Gautama
indulging in neighborly chat.
Popery, popery, changery-hopery
grant the old Pontiff his wish.
Then summon a bishop to season and dish up
a kettle of catechized fish.
Changery, hopery—swing from the ropery,
garnish the Vatican stew.
The Cardinals compassed, the media rumpused
the Protestants joined in, too…
Fakery, changery, safety in dangery
lack of direction was lost
as it became clear that no concord was near
and the threshold of lunacy crossed.
Changery-hopery, soap-on-a-ropery,
buy the Obama a beer.
Let the Lord’s liberation enlighten our nation
as forums and quorums get queer.
Hopery, changery, babe-in-a-mangery
hail the immaculate mess;
until limbo is purged and repentance is urged
and the canonized con-men confess.
Babilo-mockery, roll with the rockery
kiss the pontificate ring;
til’ the old Argentinian wax Constantinian
causing Gods angels to sing.
Jiggery-pokery fooling the folkery
monkery second to none…
what was once sacrilegious is now a religious
conventional focus of fun.
Papacy, lunacy piping the tunacy
Father goose mothered the egg –
but it cracked in the nest while the stupefied West
lit a match to a gunpowder keg.
Yessiree/nopery—smoking the dopery
opiates dulling the masses
who bow genuflecting, with candles reflecting
the shine of their Latinate *****
Fakery funkery, pachyderm trunkery
hierophants never forget
but the clown and his trainer cut loose the restrainer
and cancelled the circus’s debt.
Piggery, smokery, tighten the chokery
offer the refugees bacon;
their mullahs may howl with a slaughterhouse scowl
but the empire’s free for the takin’…
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
Blank tranquility
silence,
The weight of my consciousness
Lifted
The chatter of endless thoughts
Now a low hum
I fill my chest with air
And exhale knowledge
The third eye crusted shut
With years of flouride and impurity
Now beginning to see again
though I am not worthy
Of the majesty it will eventually
Bestow upon me
I will find bodha,
I want to experience
The absolute truth
Sitting with Gautama beneath his Pipal tree
Bathing in his wisdom
For he knows my suffering,
And the long path I have traveled
To understand it
And become a higher being
Rasasvada is my only escape now,
Until I become truely enlightened
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
I'm the unholiest of nights
I am nocturnal antichrists
I am the intifada phantom
Blacking out the Israelites
I am the netherworld Rohingya
To Gautama's paradise
I can indulge in my salvation
For a fraction of the price
I am the spice of life aboard
Malagasy pirate ships
I am the pyramids of greed
Built atop the cracks of whips
I get on nerves of your Nirvana
I'm the burning Book of Mormon
I'm a hundred years of war
And famine, plagues and locusts swarmin'
I am 47 ronin
To the Hiroshima priest
As they Shinto Harakiri
I am rising in the east
I am the fracture in the caste
Of the Brahmin’s brittle bones
I am the wrath of jealous deities
On Mount Olympus thrones
I'm the cult of personality
The Satan's circle level
I'm the hammer and the sickle
I'm the patron saint of rebel
I'm the heathen Eden extremist
The radical depiction
Of Muhammad's severed head
Adorned in crowns of crucifixion
I'm the Xenu Voodoo Guru
I'm the omniversal cosmic view
The lord of space and time
And now my thetan horde awakens you
From sins of your mortality
I know them all too well
You place your faith in heaven
But I make mine here in hell
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 3:04 AM UTC
Gautama was conceived in the purifying water of the monsoons,
a sweetness aliting to invite the morning bell.
He came to a wealthy world, somehow impoverished,
yet bathed in the crimson light of life;
Blind and unable to shine our gaze into the void,
We complain of distance – when really
there is none between hearts.
Millennia later, the gratitude is mine,
only in the sense that I do not resist its source,
the light.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
The moon (in my head),
a guy named Fish (in my eye),
**** star (in my *******
in my shoulders (Issac Newton),
in the soles of my feet (Siddhartha Gautama),
in my face (a girl named Arcade),
the devil (in my foot),
a forest (in my *******
dolphins (on my lips),
in my jaw (David Lynch).
In my mouth (the cosmos),
Arkenya (everywhere).
Jimi Hendrix (hanging on my ears),
my ex-boyfriend Christopher (in my ******
Jesus Christ (in my heart),
in my skin (culture),
God (everywhere).
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
The immaculate Dalai of Lama
was revered as a modern Gautama.
While he discoursed, with mirth
upon karmic rebirth
he reminded us all of his mama.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC
In Genesis it talks about God giving people the breath of life
I believe that this happened and I am thankful
It is also said that Siddhartha Gautama reached enlightenment under the Bodhi Tree by observing his breath in meditation for three days
I have always considered the Buddha to be a pretty smart guy
My one issue with running is I have trouble breathing
When I'm stressed I take in deep breaths
I have the repeated verse of Machinehead stuck in my head
Breathe in
Breathe out
The air around us connects us to all living things
Sometimes I think that the air I breathe is the same air Allen Ginsberg once breathed and I feel glad
I once was in the same room as the air Bob Dylan breathed and that was pretty cool
On nights of poetry I breathe in the same air as my friends, whom I love dearly
Breathe in
Breathe out
I started meditating last week and I want to tell everyone
If I'm obnoxious I'm not sorry
But when you have lived a life of constant divided attention you enjoy not worrying about anything
I am hesitant to find someone who takes my breath away
Because at times my breath is the only thing I own
I am afraid to drown
I am afraid to suffocate
Breath is what connects us to all living things
So breathe
Breathe in
Breathe out
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
a giant once walked this land
gautama, the Buddha
a giant, if ever there was one
hearts this parched,
minds this feeble.
for such a tribe,
why did he walk
the walk?
he saw -
clear,
and loud
each of us
has the spark
to be -
the giant that he was.
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 5:24 PM UTC
Los nombres de Dios y en particular de su representante
llamado Jesús o Cristo, según textos y bocas,
han sido usados, gastados y dejados
a la orilla del río de las vidas
como las conchas vacías de un molusco.
Sin embargo, al tocar estos nombres sagrados
y desangrados, pétalos heridos,
saldos de los océanos del amor y del miedo,
algo aún permanece: un labio de ágata,
una huella irisada que aún tiembla en la luz.
Mientras se usaban los nombres de Dios
por los mejores y por los peores, por los limpios y por los sucios,
por los blancos y los negros, por ensangrentados asesinos
y por las víctimas doradas que ardieron en ******
mientras Nixon con las manos
de Caín bendecía a sus condenados a muerte,
mientras menos y menores huellas divinas se hallaron en la playa,
los hombres comenzaron a estudiar los colores,
el porvenir de la miel, el signo del uranio,
buscaron con desconfianza y esperanza las posibilidades
de matarse y de no matarse, de organizarse en hileras,
de ir más allá, de ilimitarse sin reposo.
Los que cruzamos estas edades con gusto a sangre,
a humo de escombros, a ceniza muerta,
y no fuimos capaces de perder la mirada,
a menudo nos detuvimos en los nombres de Dios,
los levantamos con ternura porque nos recordaban
a los antecesores, a los primeros, a los que interrogaron,
a los que encontraron el himno que los unió en la desdicha
y ahora viendo los fragmentos vacíos donde habitó aquel nombre
sentimos estas suaves sustancias
gastadas, malgastadas por la bondad y por la maldad.
674
Durante cien otoños he mirado
tu tenue disco.
Durante cien otoños he mirado
tu arco sobre las islas.
Durante cien otoños mis labios
no han sido menos silenciosos.
El espacio sin tiempo.
La luna es del color de la arena.
Ahora, precisamente ahora,
mueren los hombres del Metauro y de Tannenberg.
¿En qué ayer, en qué patios de Cartago,
cae también la lluvia?
El año me tributa mi pasto de hombres
y en la cisterna hay agua.
En mí se anudan los caminos de piedra.
¿De qué puedo quejarme?
En los atardeceres
me pesa un poco la cabeza de toro.
La meta es el olvido.
Yo he llegado antes.
Fue en el primer desierto.
Dos brazos arrojaron una gran piedra.
No hubo un grito. Hubo sangre.
Hubo por vez primera la muerte.
Ya no recuerdo si fui Abel o Caín.
Que antes del alba lo despojen los lobos;
la espada es el camino más corto.
Crueles estrellas y propicias estrellas
presidieron la noche de mi génesis;
debo a las últimas la cárcel
en que soñé el Quijote.
El callejón final con su poniente.
Inauguración de la pampa.
Inauguración de la muerte.
El tiempo juega un ajedrez sin piezas
en el patio. El crujido de una rama
rasga la noche. Fuera la llanura
leguas de polvo y sueño desparrama.
Sombras los dos, copiamos lo que dictan
otras sombras: Heráclito y Gautama.
Una lima.
La primera de las pesadas puertas de hierro.
Algún día seré libre.
Nuestros actos prosiguen su camino,
que no conoce término.
Maté a mi rey para que Shakespeare
urdiera su tragedia.
La serpiente que ciñe el mar y es el mar,
el repetido remo de Jasón, la joven espada de Sigurd.
Sólo perduran en el tiempo las cosas
que no fueron del tiempo.
Los sueños que he soñado. El pozo y el péndulo.
El hombre de las multitudes. Ligeia…
Pero también este otro.
En la pública luz de las batallas
otros dan su vida a la patria
y los recuerda el mármol.
Yo he errado oscuro por ciudades que odio.
Le di otras cosas.
Abjuré de mi honor,
traicioné a quienes me creyeron su amigo,
compré conciencias,
abominé del nombre de la patria,
me resigné a la infamia.
739
I like likes:
Curious LIKE the first glance of a newborn baby
Happy LIKE the Awakened Gautama Siddhartha
Free LIKE flying fish over the ocean
Infinite LIKE the first light ray at the Big Bang
Silent LIKE a gas chamber after a shower
Always on time LIKE death
I like likes but
Do they like me?
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
¡Oh, Siddharta Gautama!, tú tenías razón:
las angustias nos vienen del deseo; el edén
consiste en no anhelar, en la renunciación
completa, irrevocable, de toda posesión;
quien no desea nada, dondequiera está bien.
El deseo es un vaso de infinita amargura,
un pulpo de tentáculos insaciables, que al par
que se cortan, renacen para nuestra tortura.
El deseo es el padre del esplín, de la hartura,
¡y hay en él más perfidias que en las olas del mar!
Quien bebe como el Cínico el agua con la mano,
quien de volver la espalda al dinero es capaz,
quien ama sobre todas las cosas al Arcano,
¡ése es el victorioso, el fuerte, el soberano...
y no hay paz comparable con su perenne paz!
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