A Roadmap to Satori

norway-road-fv355-by-jakezdaniel
norway road fv355 by jakezdaniel

The twenty-first century: the year of the beggar,
when the poor shall rule.

Do not question why we are here,
only answer it.


i

time
shares
all wisdom
(every secret)
unlocked will open
the most stubborn door

nothing is fast
in real-time

ii

we admire
the opulence of Matisse
the pain of van Gogh
to taste eternity
in their work

artists
express their lives
so we can recognize ours

iii

a wind blew
and made a whisper
the house woke up to rest
the sun shone from the horizon
clouds formed
hushed

iv

you fear strange words
will escape your lips
so you quit talking

do not question
an inner motive
only to find it lacking

we accuse others
and loathe those things
we embrace in ourselves

let the milk of life touch you
for it will only curdle into ash

v

worry
is worthless
joined with anxiety
it becomes obsolete
for it lends itself to anger
which goes the way
of worry

you discover by the limits of reason
how limitless is reason

vi

a notion
stirs within you and cannot rest
you search for sleep
and cannot find it

the fertile ground of twilight
between wakefulness and sleep
bears the children of your thoughts

dreams make
a day’s experience
fractured:
no wonder
dreams
are so easy
to believe

we listen
to the weather
plan our lives
and stay indoors
while the sun shines

vii

a newborn
opens its eye
for the first time
and looks in yours
with understanding:
she will teach you
to love the person
not the infant
you raised

we learn
from a child
the things as children
we ignored

we run into burning buildings
to save our sons and daughters
duty bound as heroes

we beg for the attentions of a father not knowing
tho’ dead our fathers are within reach

viii

past conflicts
were decisive
today’s are slow
they leave things unsettled:
many men spend their lives
in the shadow of war

the fear of death
is motivation for war
it brings out man’s greatest passions
a sport we practice
tho’ never master

ix

do not give up the senses:
accept a garden of pleasure
as your place

there is no answer to sickness
except to endure:
life continues
the wretched will suffer

who will teach us to live
after the disaster
we’ve made of this earth?

there is in everything
an understanding
removed of itself

x

hope
compounds with fear
and the heart accepts what
the mind finds difficult to believe

spiritual texts describe
supernatural events
with the physical
creates conflict

if faith can heal a man
no wonder the world is so sick

to find truth
we must dismiss belief
prayer is useless
examination is key

that for which the prophets search
but none has found:
it hides in plain sight

xi

the circle of blame
when a gift from above
brings pain
is it a blessing
or the malediction?

false hope
is at the core of unhappiness
mass-produced faith is propaganda
there are no Henry Fords of spirituality

yes! yes! study religion
for the more you study
the less you will believe!

xii

why? why? do we wallow in blindness
until someone shines a light
to show us the way?

Suite – Machine of Civilization

http://stayinwonderland.deviantart.com/art/Post-Apocalyptic-Ruined-City-296266421
post apocalyptic ruined city by stayinwonderland

i

it’s a big machine
this civilization
gears turn
governments
shape society’s
collapse

ii

I flashed horror
at the dance at the morgue
sacks of flesh torn and wobbled
bent lopsided smothered
by the ancient “ahor”
I swallowed my screams
and recited Wolfe’s mantras
while clown pranksters
told incoherent jokes
by the light of
acid washed
campfires

iii

the conjured
reality of Harari’s
Sapiens made fire
invented the wheel
sought shelter
in the rocks
invoked God
found Buddha
sitting under
a tree

iv

south
west
central
a white glow
of feathery stars
darken a swirling
van Gogh sky
a coyote dances
teasing scorpions
spins dust trails
nips and snarls
teeth bared
in dog
play

v

artifacts
in deserted dwellings
of pueblos at Four Corners
the Inca in Machu Picchu
Khmer of Angkor Wat
and Easter Island
Moai suffered
climate change

vi

industrial
revolution’s
infinite orgy of energy
gasoline weed trimmers
coal fired suburban
steam punk
technology
force
survivors
to migrate
dwell in mud huts
watch African sunsets
under thatched roofs
row Polynesian
longboats
on opal
seas

God and the New Buddha

buddha ke bandhana by Wolves-PSD

On Buddha becoming Enlightened:

“If the mind of a person is free from all craving, no god can make him miserable. Conversely, once craving arises in a person’s mind, all the gods in the universe cannot save him from suffering.”

Sapiens – Yuval Noah Harari

stumble on a vision
understand a psalm
listen to a prayer
beg for an alm
thirst for the righteous
sigh and groan
not enough fishes
let’s eat the bones!

left on the mountain
seeking atone-meant
for the wicked
not for ones
who have not sinned
though they’re treated like one

Buddha met Christ
and said you’re clever
you brought the message
to more people than ever
I could in the distant
past or present
but tell me why
must they repent?

doesn’t Salvation
sound like salivation?
craving for life when
death is our station
telling the poor
give thanks
for their rations
don’t you believe
in upward mobilization?
reincarnation?
must we continue
in damnation
if the spirit
is love?

“Be not afraid
I’ve conquered
the world”
Buddha replied:
Maya is not your pearl
of great value hurled at swine
or light under a basket–it is Void
we are tasked to accept it
not avoid it

δ

today we worship
things
not God
we research
and tie it in knots
the simplest of truths to find
a way to separate the gall
from the wine

Breathe in!
Breathe out!
we do it each day
while some meditate
others pray

of the outcome
there can be no doubt
God has met the New Buddha
the verdict is out
God – zero
Buddha won


A Moment in Satori

snow and the city by duophonix

standing on the corner of Lincoln Avenue
near the rush hour train station

watching pedestrians
on a winter’s afternoon
the gossamer of snowflakes
creates a vignette

big rubber tired taxis
round the curb
let off passengers

rush into the drugstore
for newspapers
cigars

throw candy wrappers
on the sidewalk
in the swirling snow

… a moment in satori

The People’s Poet

gilad

(in lament of past folly)

 

beneath a dark and august moon
with eyes of a stark and raving loon
I looked beyond the blackness of my rage

and saw there in the shadows
a distant laughing vagabond
who uttered vague cabaret songs
and danced the street lamp lighted stage

“reality bends like a horseshoe round my mind!”
he screamed “becoming lost behind me –
tomorrow is not reality for it has not become
today becomes reality only after it’s done”

he spoke his words no thought aforethought
he looked into my burning soul and grinned
a winsome gaze that challenged
all my well-worn guise

“you look to me a man of fortune”
grinned the wicked vagabond
“but fortune of what sort has bargained
you to end up where you stand?”

that his speech
seemed well-intentioned
mattered to me not
but the tortured man had reached
into my heart of tangled knots
and found a shriveled wound

“to each his own!” he gleeful moaned
“to each his own!” he mocked me
“what life you’ve lived so free at last
to strap you to this mizzen mast
with joy as you did revel
and cast your lot asunder
to hear the woe-begotten knell
of a not so distant thunder?

“your brow against the roaring swell
of seasick brine and salty spell
to face life’s bitter vengeance?

“for what you reaped is what you’ve sown
and not a lick of it so funny
that as in haste you do repent
and see your fortunes now negate
into the holes of blunder:
don’t worry of the furnace
that you peer into with wonder
for as ‘to each his own’ has been your cry
to ‘each his own’ has done you!”

“to each his own,” I whispered low
“to each his own,” I wondered:
what life I’ve led I chose my own
to be what I would be
to do what I would do
with no one there to taunt me
nor words to whisper in my ears
like a conscience that should haunt me

I tripped the light fantastic
and rode life to its crest
and what I’ve brought to bear with me
I did at my behest
and now I’m just a shell
of what I once did best

“to each his own,” I wept and moaned
“to each his own,” I sorrowed
to each his own, you’ve left me here
with nothing for tomorrow
and though my life has always been
a thing that I have borrowed
to each his own, I beg to turn
this tide that I have swallowed

A Lotus Blossom Primal Scream

enlightenment by 999999999a

thoughts rush
heartbeat flutters
temperature drops with
the fear of knowing

ghosts
pass light-shadows
back and forth like footballs
behind closed eyes

snow drifts gather
in fractal
kaleidoscopic
gray-scale synapse streams

Blossoms
of Inner Light?
I think not!
Call the doctor
or, call a Priest!

the ambulance is here

Maiden Voyage

steam_punk_by_sya
steam punk by sya

the room was dark
Jimi Hendrix curled
guitar strings around your ears
biting at the end of the scale
smashed on the window panes
of your mind
shattered pieces spun
deep inside your eyelids
indigo colored lights and crimson
shadows flashed in your head
it was your maiden voyage

Dance in the Morgue

third eye iv by ephynephryn
third eye iv by ephynephryn

I flashed horror
at the dance in the morgue
sacks of flesh torn and wobbled
bent lopsided smothered
by the ancient “ahor”

I swallowed my screams
and recited Wolfe’s mantras
while clown pranksters
told incoherent jokes
by the light of
acid washed
campfires

Infinite Energy

The Sea's Yours by SybLaTortue
The Sea’s Yours by SybLaTortue

industrial
revolution’s
infinite energy
of electric cars
gasoline weed trimmers
coal fired suburban
steam punk
technology
forces survivors
to dwell in mud huts
watch African sunsets
under smog darkened skies
row Polynesian longboats
on seas of floating
litter

Cannabanoia

paranoia-by-vlad-off-kru-d4g20nm
Paranoia by Vlad-Off-kru

for Anthony

nights spent
in a panicked rush
of exploding fear

suffocated
choking terrors
caused stuttered breathing
frozen trembling
conversations
stolen by the silver darkness
sought warmth in prayer
but remorse brought
no relief

you found
strength in self
gained absolution
got the Pope’s blessing
became a fearless warrior prince
and recited feathered mantras
in your woken dreams

then
I lost you

The Imagination of Dreams

no steam by kingabrit
no steam by kingabrit


I woke up with the sun in my face. I got up. I went to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth. I made breakfast and ate eggs that tasted like onions. I drank coffee and stared out the window. I sorted through the images left from my sleep and separated them from the events of the day before. Slowly, they began to make sense.

I dreamed I stood on a mountain and threw off the shackles that bound me. I dreamed I kissed an angel. Her lips felt like feathers. Her arms encircled me. I was angry, but I didn’t know why. My heart raced. The clouds moved slowly. The world spun like a wheel. I was delirious. I stumbled and fell, but I couldn’t feel pain. My father, who died when I was fifteen years old, caught me as I dropped to the ground. His arms were strong. I was weak. He taught me how to fly.

“Why didn’t I die?” I asked my mother. Her answer was upsetting. Continue reading “The Imagination of Dreams”

QZen

Photography by VisualLemon @DeviantArt
Photography by VisualLemon

        I used to think to live like the Ancients, with their intricate rituals, I had to follow the philosophies of the East. But I have seen in my wife, who is of Chinese origin, a mystic quality I suspect is inherited. I note her quiet aura as she takes tea, meditating so as not to hurt the life-spirit of the moment, and not drink from the bottom of the cup, as if sacred.
        I sit with her, watching closely, intrigued. I finish the last bite of the sesame cookie as I take my last sip of tea.

the crooked picture
on the wall
never moves. . .
until a hand reaches
to touch it
(then it straightens
itself)

        In Quantum Mechanics, the ghost-photons of matter match the real world, but are not there (unless we look for them). Are we really just particles propelled through Time, floating in a holographic sea—until some random event causes us to become reality?

Related: Quantum Zen

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