Short Buddhas Poems

a
gentle gust of wind
from
the
sacred wings of
the
owl moth
extinguishes the
candlelight flame
with
its
bamboo wings
inside 
the 
Buddhas temple...

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Joseph the Christ figure giraffe bookmark
wooly resents that penultimate comment
and tells me whut
“ALL NEW MATERIAL. CONFORMS”
Of what does he speak? What madness?
“TO TOY SAFETY REGULATIONS”
The turning phrase!
A thousand old Buddhas stand speechless!...

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It was less savory.
The tibia breaks and you
enter into unbuttoned dress.

        *

The deviance was abusive.
I cannot accept the celebration 
of skin, unwrapping small Buddhas.

        *

When the fear recedes, I will 
move around the words? 
to seek the meaning.


Satish Verma...

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Robes of flowing milk
Mixed with light flowing honey
Nimbus of sunlight
Lotus of red, pink and gold
With buddhas in the petals
And black hair flowing downwards 


Bussokusekika Poem about a medieval Chinese painting of the Prophet Mani (founder of Manichaeism) titled in English "Icon of Mani" (Moni is Mani in the Chinese language)...

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Bourgeoise Hippies

Littering your hallways with gold-painted plaster ?
Buddhas and empty singing bowls.
Building shrines and burning sage.
Eating leaves and teaching Yoga

Your mirrors are covered in dust.?
You drown your ignorance of compassion 
In a  shallow pool of consciousness.
All the while disregarding the comforts of your privilege....

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There is no Beauty.
In all the world
there is no Beauty.
   In anywhere at all.
There is nothing 
that is Beautiful.

The flowers, the clouds,
   the Thousand Buddhas,
the kelp, the cottage,
the gazelle, the shell...

the motes in Autumn sun,
the twinkling nights,
the flecking paint.
   Her neck...

There, too, is nothing
to
which we cannot bring
Beauty....

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oh, the immaculate red lotus
the queen of flowers
the seat of buddhas
tell me, this grown-up foetus
the secret of your excellent status
in spite of the trotting trend
that you grow in the muddiest pond,
in the stinking ground

oh, the flawless red flora
the crown of vegetation
the seat of buddhas
how is that neither mud
nor the filthy fluid
from which you derive your nourishment
touch not your tender petals
nor corrupt your fragrance?...

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carved cruicifixes,
slashed n’ sliced stars of david,
chiseled taijitus,
hacked stars n’ crescents 
cleaved christs
dissected n’ shaped buddhas,
engraved menorahs
chipped n’ etched away Confucius 
trimmed dharmachakras
whittled & molded muhammad
severed n’ separated astrological zodiac signs 
snipped aum
chopped n’ cracked pentagrams  
lopped off lotus flowers
shaved n’ grated ichthys &
pierced pentacles---
all wash away in the sink
after running warm water over them
for a little while....

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