Man wanting to hold
On, craves to climb next ladder
But can’t leave the old
Ere climbing next one
And bids for life’s grave blunder
Time and times again,
Forgetting alas
That there’s no way to heaven
Till the past is passé.
_________________________
Senryu | 21.12.2025 | ladder, men, past, world
Note: This is what’s happening in today’s materialistic world fed with the diet of grab, grab and give not the ladder to others wanting to climb. Yet, till the past is passé, there is no future.
Instrument of mind, let us rest,
power from ego gently wrest,
that as awareness self-aware,
our bliss anointed heart is blest.
No agenda left to declare
and ego cravings we outstare,
we then recognise who we are,
laying before God, our heart bare.
For too long we played below par
and from God’s light drifted afar
but in silence, the Self is seen,
shining brighter than the North Star.
We find we are by thoughts hounded
No wonder we feel confounded
When we are still, ego objects
Yet silence is where soul’s grounded
Mind but makes the simple complex
All that thinking does is perplex
Mind’s an instrument for the heart
Imposing balances and checks
In staid stillness our fears depart
Truth dawns on adding love to cart
When ego dies, the truth is known
That’s the way God-search to jump start
Books are passé’, Grandma!
No one uses them anymore
Let’s burn them all.
It was one of the hood wearers.
The older woman was shocked to her core.
She had never gotten used to the I-pads, I-pods or I-phones.
Let me show you what we do with them,
The Hood Wearer said.
He lit one on fire
Holding it up so she could see how he felt about it.
But what if the Internet goes down? The older woman asked.
She was not even a grandma, never having had children.
The Hood Wearer let out a loud laugh
Dropping the book at her feet.
She threw water on it and saved what she could
Because she had been taught to save everything
She watched him throwing other people’s books on the fire
And was amazed at how easy others had been to persuade.
Brenda has a big bottom,
it causes quite a wake
as she swims toward me.
Soft girl steaming up to my woody
chuffing like a tugboat,
mouth as wide as a catfish.
Such things are not written of
nearly enough.
So what's your most fervent prayer today
Betcha I can guess, it's about finding your way
It's a crazy hike
Instead take a bike
You'll get there sooner coz walking is passé
My phone's passe and so it's slow
Which is annoying, as things go,
But even worse, the weather's wrong;
It gives me temps that don't belong.
My husband's phone says 39.
The radio agrees; not mine.
It told me 61 all day
And on that number it will stay.
My data storage has no room.
I can't take pictures - you'd assume
That it would be a cinch to fix
But yet, I'm stuck with no new pics.
I guess I'll cave and make the switch
And hope the new one has no glitch,
With speed that leaves mine in the dust
And weather I at least can trust.
My nephew thinks of email
Like a telegraph's to me -
It's ancient and old-fashioned and passe.
I sent an e-computer card
But got a message back
It was never viewed though sent two weeks away.
I guess he's into Facebook,
Which I'm not, or maybe text.
However he connects is not for me.
The generation gap
Is growing wider all the time
And I don't think many folks would disagree.
And so I missed his birthday,
Though I sent my card on time;
This occasion postal clerks cannot be blamed.
It's technology and differences
In age and style of life;
I relinquish all the coolness I once claimed.
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