Time is a master piece
That requires patience
Time is the allocation given to
Everyone that is born and living
Time is like a pie consisting
Of all manner of ingredients
That includes all in a humans life
Sadness and joy, peace and war,
births and deaths
Riches and poverty
Every one must partake of this
pie of time.
Time is a master piece we must
Partake of it wisely
Before the time allocated to us is
spent.
Gray thunder emerged from satin serf
bearing wares of a carnival hag
globes filled with terror and scumbled nerve
boring a path, bringing disorder to sand.
Silver wings bristle at the absurdities
ruddy mates pay respect and disdain
as Poseidon regains his sapphire fleece
prayer, like an orphan, will perish unclaimed.
Leaden flyers rage from jungle nests
straddling the tusks of demonic winds
the beach master sprays blood and his breath
will any be judged for patented sins.
The artisan signs "fruit splayed with silk
the young roll sweetened eyes, suckling the krill.
Spinning around self
and sun that sets
feeding life on clock
preset to end
dividing day
from night
work from rest
cradling in one lap
life and death
and all that is of earth
returns to earth
when veil descends
and all around is light
the soul ascends
to Sun without a night
and if its halo
by unbelief
was dimmed
will fall into the pit
against its wish
drawn by same strings
that held it in sin
for love is free
and soul
that’s dead inside
is puppet
of the masters
outside
life is love
and love
life eternal
paradise.
The puppet master wants someone
Who strings he can pull at
Anytime, he wants you too not
Have a brain, so you can't think
No voice, so you can't speak
He only wants you to be submissive
To what he says and does
Because the puppet master still
Wants to live in the past
He wants to take things back but
Time has and is moving forward
Weather he wants it to or not
A fresh, hefty heap I left in the box.
You scooped it away into that flushing abyss.
A crisp, satisfying sound echoed—
Music to my ears.
Phew. My poop was gone.
Are you a wizard?
Four long years passed.
Then, the human assumed the form of a serpent,
Devouring a long, green cucumber.
Slathering my poop all over it,
Licking away the giant, pungent stink
With a satisfied tongue.
And then, trying to seduce me
With a terrifying truth:
"Here’s Churu for you~"
"I’ve got another cucumber, you see.
And I made sure to spread the poop extra thick and salty this time."
"Eat up."
Ah, was I that hungry?
Did you pretend to throw away my poop all those years,
Just like a magician hiding a trick?
I passed out.
Overcome by your dark truth.
How on earth am I supposed to look you in the eye tomorrow?
Every tap and hand touch
Rhythm to the highest
Quality echo
Praise to the finest
Appreciation that mounts
Blessing count
Inner soul outburst
Feeling of thank you
Ultimate assurance
Tambourine lesson
Listening to what the tambourine is saying
Let the beat carry on
Tambourine being its own voice
The standalone
Needs nothing shown
Tambourine above all
Assurance of the touch
Tambourine friend
Tambourine tap until then
Tambourine Master
Reedth speaketh me listen
to this creaking squeaking tree
it make a bassoon proud
to speak out loud in detail
the things I see.
Speaketh me as wonderer
here in the edgy field
the moans and groans of
a tree so large
could frighten a person
to chills
fright not weary one
as I know the happenings here
the fibers within
bend with the wind
this trees end could be near
dense the wood
strong fibers too
might I brag that
it's a Black Ironwood tree
most dense of all the tree's
it was a present from
a host, a hoist that
gifted me.
It shall be felled
harvested
and made into tables and chairs
you look at me with
disappointment
do you wish the wind to prevail
oh i understand
you wish it to be fashioned
from this tree
a bassoon for those envy us
crafted for the world to see.
It expense will make
all who want
stop with a look upon there face
envy of unobtainable things
Envy and Grace
profound lyrical themes used
to explore the balance tween
artistic ambition, comparison,
Passion and redemption
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.
By Nguyen Giac Phan Tan Hai
Obeying your words, my steps
cross the shore to guide all beings.
Mist softens this fleeting world—
the road is far, yet the heart stays near.
Looking into the mirror, I suddenly see
my hair has turned white as dew.
Each day I breathe in quietness,
chilled by the winds of impermanence.
Opening the sutra, reading word by word,
I feel the Truc Lam forest tremble.
Breathing in, the Thien Mu bell
resonates through my whole body.
A single flower is lifted—
someone holds it, yet no one holds;
someone sees it, yet no one sees;
there is only the flower appearing.
By Phan Tan Hai
He brought the monk back to Van Gia village,
where waterfalls chilled the flow of verse.
Opening his eyes, he gazed through the realm of death—
the midnight forest heavy beneath a dim moon.
What was the monk waiting for, that his hair turned white,
as the final watch drifted across the misty world?
He translated three thousand sutras and treatises,
then lifted his head toward the nation—tears falling.
By Phan Tan Hai
He took form as a small mountain stream,
crossing cliffs and waterfalls to reach the river.
His alms bowl carried a lifetime’s journey—
one day he drifted far across oceans.
He sent poems with the birds’ singing,
the horizon echoing memories of old schools.
He rang the bell to awaken the nation’s spirit,
calling them home to hear the Dharma beneath the temple roof.
By Phan Tan Hai
Following his mother through years of fleeing war,
the Four Great Debts weighed heavy on his shoulders.
A childhood spent in the temple learning the Dharma,
awake through long nights listening to birth and death.
Poems slipped between the chanting of sutras—
life appeared both present and absent.
Tears overflowed the three realms,
as the long night retold stories of the homeland.
I am fond of you, Lord,
Yet I despise my neighbor.
I preach your word with delight,
Yet I do not walk in your light.
I meditate daily on your truth,
Yet I remain the same as before.
I dwell within your holy house,
Yet darkness lives in me still.
I walk among fools in comfort,
Yet I cannot guide them in truth.
I promise shelter in the night,
Yet I cannot offer bread by day.
I ask for blessings rich and great,
Yet I give nothing to the least.
I am taught by the Almighty,
Yet I refuse to change my ways.
I claim to love you in my heart—
Yet my life denies your name.
I am fond of you, Lord,
Yet I despise my neighbor.
I preach your word with delight,
Yet I do not walk in your light.
I meditate daily on your truth,
Yet I remain the same as before.
I dwell within your holy house,
Yet darkness lives in me still.
I walk among fools in comfort,
Yet I cannot guide them in truth.
I promise shelter in the night,
Yet I cannot offer bread by day.
I ask for blessings rich and great,
Yet I give nothing to the least.
I am taught by the Almighty,
Yet I refuse to change my ways.
I claim to love you in my heart—
Yet my life denies your name.
He's risen, Christ the king
Sitted in his throne
In heaven above
A king without throne
While on earth
For wherever he sits
Is his throne
Ruling over
Principalities and powers
Leading people to thy Father Almighty.
He's risen, Christ the king
The law breaker
He ascended above
And never came down
Breaking the law of gravity
That says; whatever goes up
Must surely come down.
He's risen, Christ the king
The greatest mental physician
The miracle worker
The liberator of generations
The illuminator of the dark
The master of the wonderous world
The map to thy Father God Almighty.
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