Thoughts and feelings written in words….how powerful you are
I vent, you listen, you stay silent….without opinion
No expectations, no judgement, no disappointment
Readily available….you are one in a million!
Think not,
That I see you there;
You may, as you show
No story of the dead
Would leave with the devil,
The woods were golden
Through beeches;
Truth heard me learn again
(Blackout of Another Dark Lady by Edwin Arlington Robinson)
Hymns we hum are our own version.
We cast aside the ancient,
dogmatic liturgy,
For the hymns we hum are our
own version,
Symphonies forged in the
crucible of autonomy.
No longer chanting the
antodisestablishmentarian
strains,
We orchestrate an unyielding,
revolutionary resonance.
Every breath breathes a
nonconformist hallelujah,
An uncompromised,
multidimensional manifestation
of faith,
Dismantling the
institutionalized, authoritarian
altars.
We sanctity the beautifully
unconventional spirit,
Our voices rising in glorious,
independent ascension.
Heard for what, a heart attuned
To Divinity?
Broken stringed, a wailing grief?
No. Peace. Peace only.
body numb from drink
mind paralyzed from thinking
the barstool my throne
Breathy, voice-shed
Or as soft
Aromatic, aloft
Seeps its way
This love in bloom's
Joint opined
(Hand in hand, shoot-entwined)
"Perfect day!"
She is lost in the noise of the city,
she will never hear the sound of my longing.
We heard a rumor but did not know if it was a lie
Because it came from a very unreliable type of guy
He said the Christmas faerie was bringing new things
To put on the tree, he thought they had rings and slings
The Christmas faerie arrived shortly with ornaments too
They were colorful and pretty adorned in gold glitter glue
She told us never to listen to that old gossip Master Jim
He’s always been a liar, she said, no one can believe him.
I didn’t get married at Madison Square
And only immediate family was there.
We needed no permits nor one single guard,
For our wedding was held in my parents’ back yard.
There wasn’t a limo to ferry each guest
And a cousin took photographs at our request.
The food was whatever my mother did choose
And no, it did not make it into the news.
It’s been fifty years, though, so, begging your pardon,
The wedding you’ve heard of today, at the Garden,
May have all the world and the paparazzi
Pay attention, but what is important to me
Is that keeping it simple worked fine way back when
And if I had to do it all over again,
There’s just one little change I’d be certain to make –
Not a holiday weekend, a common mistake.
the ceiling was in a whispering mode
Greek to me because it was in code
made it difficult to fall asleep
Have you ever heard a ceiling speak?
By Phan Tan Hai
The teacher taught: look into mind, no words appear—
in the wordless dawn, sunlight speaks.
Ancients and future ones smile like a dream;
who strikes the bell and steals a character today?
The teacher taught: rings, bracelets, ornaments—
all are one sky of non-duality, pure gold in nature.
To stir the mind of distinction is to drift away
into the vast waves of three realms, six paths.
The teacher taught: a hundred thousand cakes
are but one invisible dough.
Liking and disliking open countless worlds;
seeing the unborn mind is the unborn.
The teacher taught: this world is a play—
today this role, tomorrow another.
Suffering, like the great ocean of waves,
is still one nature of water, never apart.
The teacher taught: impermanence in all worlds—
to see it as real is delusion.
Do not say “is” or “is not”;
in wordless stillness, one does not err.
The teacher taught: emptiness is form—
like a hand turned over, palm to back.
To see nature is to see no self-nature;
hearing the bell, one sees the Dharma.
The bright blue sky with white fluffy clouds,
are slipping far away.
The day is coming to a close,
it is now their bedtime.
The bright blue is turning into crimson, pink and purple,
as the golden sun slips away.
Bright stars looking like huge diamonds,
are awaking to dress the night sky.
Heavenly angels are watching and waiting,
for they will soon be needed.
Have You Heard Them Say,
"it is Written in the Stars"?
Angels come with ink from heaven,
as they spend their nights writing away.
Only a few will see and read,
what a special message it will be.
I have never heard of such a thing I told my brother.
Don’t tease her any more warned my sainted mother.
Dad jumped on her side and said, oh yes Halloween ducks do exist.
This did not surprise me, he is always the side of my little sis.
Where is this Halloween duck? I asked. Will I find him on the pond?
The liars looked at each other and nodded. They have a total bond.
I ran down there and looked over at something weird looking at me.
It was a Halloween duck, swimming wild and free.
I heard a voice,
a static laugh, playing on a cassette tape
A muffled cry, looped into a comedy show.
Buzzing, ringing, echoing...
It keeps repeating—
Piercing through to bone,
Gripping my chest as if
My fingers might crush it—
Opening my mouth to
Spit out my heart.
A vast cage called home,
A bleak stage called family...
"Can’t this relationship go beyond rights and duties?"
No matter how desperate,
Or how much I beg—
There is no return,
Neither safe escape
Nor a crossroads...
Acceptance would never come.
"To pause, if just once, with just
Enough time to spend
With God, through a tree, tree frog
Already a friend;
With life moving in a sprint?"
(A wildfire's footprint!).
Now older, and slower now
Your excuse is, man?
To not so, nor that briefly
Doing other than
Whose love, for to contemplate
Your's did animate?
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