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Doug Potter Sep 2016
I lean against a stucco building
that has a turquoise  whale painted
on the sidewalk in front and pop in
a piece  of Wrigley’s as vendors
unload eggplant and plump onions,
two women walk past, one isn’t
wearing a bra and the other
should be wearing two,
I see a neighbor listening as three
Jamaican bucket drummers argue over
cigars, my neighbor nods and flips his
Pall Mall into the street, a gal walking
a Lhasa Apso snuffs the cigarette with
her heel, the dog hikes on a crate of
cabbage sitting atop a guitar case;
bravo to you God, a better morning
I could not have lived.
A Lhasa de gusta el baloncesto más ,aunque es alta, ella es pésima con el balón.

El arco se le hacia lejos y lo más nerviosa que se pone lo más que se le aleja ese arco anaranjado.

Más cada día a ella le gusta llegar temprano al gimnasio de su escuela
para disparar unos aros.

Los más aros que dispara, los mas que se acera–la distancia se desase frente a ella.
Toxic yeti Dec 2018
Why do I go into the talklamakan desert
To trace the steps of my love
His gentle Buddha like face
Engraved in both
Mind and heart.
I travel with a broken heart.  

Why do I go into the talklamakan desert
To see the last places
That my love
Went to.
The memories
Of our coupling
Seared into my being
I travel with a broken heart

Why do I go into the talklamakan desert
To find the disembodied
Soul of my love
Memories of talking about the teachings
Bookmarked in the heart.
I travel with a broken heart.


Why do I go into the talklamakan
Desert
To be reunited with my love
Into a place of souls and demons
It’s night
I sleep next to
A watch tower
Hearing: “nga kayrangla gawpo nebo, I always will!”
Was this the last place he went
I travel with a broken heart.

I dream of the times in Lhasa
When you were still with me
Coupling in the eachothers arms.
Then I hear his voice
“Nga kayrangla gawpo yo nebo, I always will!”


I awake in the middle of the night
In the middle of the talklamakan
I finally see him
Still that monk I loved
But he was undead

I did not care
We embraced
And kissed
Our tounges danced
We both wanted to couple
But he was a zombie
And I was alive.

I hold him
As if he was so precious
I gently kiss him
And I walk into a town
Crying to my self.  

I traveled with a broken heart.
Jurgen Jan 2012
Shagri-La* (Lhasa);
now ruined
forever
kittykatnip Jun 2014
in the beginning
everything was sweet like the tea you sipped.
it was sweet like that little Lhasa puppy we brought home.

in the beginning
everything was forever like the car rides to new boston.
it was forever like supper on an empty tummy.

in the end
everything is dark like that day you left.
it is dark like my chest.

in the end
nothing is certain.
nothing is how it was
in the beginning.
for my grandmother.
someday I'll be next to you, helping you in your garden again.
Lhasa likes basketball, although she is tall, she is awful with the ball.

She perceives the arc to be far away and the more nervous she gets the farther that orange arc moves away.

However, everyday she likes to get to her school gym early to shoot some hoops.

The more hoops she shoots, the closer she gets –the distance dissolving in front of her.
Caroline Shank Oct 2019
We have ridden camels
in the Kalahari,
Flew Eagles over Canada,
walked across the Niagra.

We have boated up the
Nile and pierced the
catacombs of Rome.
We made love by the
red rock in Australia.

Our adventures overlap
memory.
We've spun the Sun and
tossed the moon,
walked on coals,
groomed gorillas and
climbed to Lhasa.

We were married in Tibet,
among the Chinese stalls,
made our way to India
and slept with tigers.

The planet swings
as we kiss, and spins
to the rhythm of Joy.


Caroline Shank
Starry Aug 2019
Uh, yeah
Another one of those
(This is for my man the 14th
Dalai Lama)
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
What they don't know is
The *******, the drama (uh), the guns, the armor (what!)
The city, the farmer, the babies, the mama (what!)
The ghettos, the drugs (uh!), the children, the soldiers (Uh!)
The tears, the hugs, the love, the slugs (c'mon!)
The funerals, the wakes, the temples, the coffins (uh!)
The heartbroken mothers - it happens too often (why?)
The problems, the things we use to solve 'em (what!)
Mustang, Bhutan (uh!), Kathmandu , ottawa (c'mon!)
The hurt, the pain, the dirt, the rain (uh!)
The ****, the hate, the work, the gain (uh!)
The friends, the foes, the protests, the nazis (what!)
The autopsies, the shows, comes and it goes (c'mon!)
The racism, the envy, the phony, the friendly (uh-huh!)
The one that gave them the slugs, the one that put 'em in me (woo!)
The snakes, the grass too long to see (uh, uh!)
The lawnmower sittin' right next to the tree (c'mon!)
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
What we seeing is
The streets, the chinese, the uiygers, torture (uh-huh)
The options, get shot, go to jail, or getcha *** kicked (a'ight)
The human rights , the part they are of the puzzle (uh-huh)
The release, the warning, "Try not, to get in trouble." (****!)
The bullies, the odds (uh), guantanamo, yakuza (what!)
The new enemy, the prank, the ****, the airports (****!)
The cell, the airport security, the ride down south (uh-huh)
The greens, the boots, camp delta, the dogs  (uh!)
The fightin', the stabbin', the pullin', the grabbin' (what!)
The trade center, nobody knows what happened (what!)
The wars, revenge, the plots (uh!)
The sleep devipravtion, the one hour that's not (uh!)
The silence, the dark, the mind so fragile (a'ight!)
The wish that the streets of lhasa would have took you when they had you (****!)
The days, the months, the years, despair
One night on my knees, here it comes: om mani padme hum
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
This here is all about
My girlfriend, my parents (uh-huh), the life that I live (uh-huh)
Through the night I was his (uh-huh), it was right what I did (uh-huh)
My ups and downs (uh), my slips, my falls (uh)
My trials and tribulations (uh), my heart, my baoudings (uh)
My mother, my father - I love 'em, they annoy me (uh!)
Wish God, I didn't have 'em, but I'm glad that he made 'em (uh!)
The airplanes, the fire, the strays, the cats (what, what!)
The guns, knives and bats, every time we scrap
The hijacking, the kidnapping', the robbin', the stealin' (uh!)
The **** hit the ceilin', little girl with no feelin's (****)
The frustration, rage, trapped inside a cage
The beatings till the age I read (a'ight!)
Somebody stop me (please!), somebody come and get me (what!)
Little did I know that the Lord was ridin' with me
The dark, the light (uh), my heart (uh), the fight (uh)
The wrong (uh!), the right (uh!), it's gone (uh!), a'ight!
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
Toxic yeti Jan 2019
We were practicing the positions
While love making
“Claudia, would you like to run away with me to Tibet.
I always wanted to be a Lama.
And we will be safe!”
I said that was romantic
But I had commitments
To my art.
But thinking back in the morning
I thought I had nothing here to live for
And I told you that
And that we can live in Tibet.
And idea was that I could teach the monks or locals
As it turned out
We ended up in Lhasa
In a small monastery
We kept to our selves
And you got groomed
The piercings still there
Thank god
We made love regularly
Until we got married and you
Started to study.
I took to sketching
The locals and the other monks
There was one young monk
That I kept sketching
And we started
To have feeling for one another
When became native I. The language
Taught him my karate in front
And soon we ended making out
“You think I am beautiful?” I
Said repeatedly
He said yes and kissed me.
When I wasn’t with you or him
I drew ****** sketches of this beautiful young man.
You found out
And cast him out.
I was angry
But for a short while.
Qualyxian Quest Feb 2023
Iranian women uncover their hair
I eat lunch at Moby ****
Awakening is becoming aware
All Walls Fall, even the thick

Persepolis is a good graphic novel
The Mosque of Colors in Shiraz amazes
Moby **** has delicious hummus
Revolutions proceed in stages

You are not a drop in the ocean
You are the entire Ocean in a single drop
Rumi reverses the Buddhists
Mr. Rumi - Krop Kun Kop

In Thailand motorcycle taxis
I would like to read more of Buddhadasa
Saw the Dalai Lama in Seattle
I am ambivalent: will he defend Lhasa?

                  Ferry boats!

— The End —