Welcome to this life. It could be the Afterlife. We would never know.
How uncertainty allows for the production of values, of sense.
Ask newborn babies, what is the meaning of life. Eat, drink, shit, piss, cry.
Transcend adulthood. The basic necessities. Clothing, shelter, dough.
How is this fresh hell different than heaven on earth? The birth of a child.
Even sound logic can't make conjecture certain, such proof makes gold dense.
Little is certain but the weight of a baby, once made clean and dry.
Look past the magic of this phenomenal world. Grains of sand count time.
Indefinitely, infinitesimal, watch from zero to wild.
Solitudinal. Alone in the universe. Bigger than you think.
Transcend wickedness. Climb the mountain beyond lies, beyond deception.
Haunted by the past. Imagination takes hold. Of an eye, the blink.
Instantly over. No time to play a new game. Before conception.
Suffer the threshold between belief and knowledge. Fresh hell is sublime.
Tuesday, January 24, 2023
Sunday, January 22, 2023
As a Celebration ~ Sunday, January 22, 2023
Nameless Nobody, a name bestowed by critics, took Stary by storm
ancient, decrepit souls lost to infirmity awoke from their beds
made their way to hear this rejuvenating sound, music to their ears
even their bodies straightened, the first time in years, like bees in a swarm
literally, scores of hopeless cases arrived and danced through the night
even the awestruck reviewers were left speechless, this made no sense, heads
spinning, but the old, now, young and virile, grateful, in their eyes, the tears
started to cascade, they could not stop their crying, a flood soaked the floor
Nameless Nobody, an ensemble of handsome demons with a light
orchestral vision observed this occurrence, night after night, the same
blistering events, the blood would begin to flow, in delight, hearts burst
open with such force, piercing the chest cavity, they died strong but lame
deaths of this nature required a clean up crew come to tend to the worst
yet, they didn't care what critics called them, they left smack through the back door
ancient, decrepit souls lost to infirmity awoke from their beds
made their way to hear this rejuvenating sound, music to their ears
even their bodies straightened, the first time in years, like bees in a swarm
literally, scores of hopeless cases arrived and danced through the night
even the awestruck reviewers were left speechless, this made no sense, heads
spinning, but the old, now, young and virile, grateful, in their eyes, the tears
started to cascade, they could not stop their crying, a flood soaked the floor
Nameless Nobody, an ensemble of handsome demons with a light
orchestral vision observed this occurrence, night after night, the same
blistering events, the blood would begin to flow, in delight, hearts burst
open with such force, piercing the chest cavity, they died strong but lame
deaths of this nature required a clean up crew come to tend to the worst
yet, they didn't care what critics called them, they left smack through the back door
Thursday, January 19, 2023
Equanimity ~ Thursday, January 19, 2023
Please explain how mind is not indivisible and yet we share mind
Leave impermanence atop the kitchen counter, cutting board and knife
Each, the uncarved block, and the short sword, or tantō, laid atop of pǔ
Answer this question, why simplicity matters, lightning strikes me blind
Success lacks value if everyone else is poor, homeless and hungry
Elucidate light that shines out of the pitch black darkness of deep strife
Enlightenment seeks clarity, carat weight, cut, and color, say wú
Xenophobic heirs of dharma, Buddha nature? Unfortunate dog
Provides old Zhàozhōu with the bile of Baudelaire, negative, angry
Lessons to learn, not from ascribing to a dog the privilege of 'no'
Answer this question, why privilege the paradox of truth as distinct
Indeed opinions matter not for zen masters, mind, nothing to know
Not emptiness, though, nor impermanence, no-self, suffering, succinct
How a poet writes, point at the moon, voicelessly, the sound of a clog
Of one hand clapping, absurd, meaningless drivel, we lap up such drool
Weened of sense, nonsense, and understanding since birth, mind is but a tool
Leave impermanence atop the kitchen counter, cutting board and knife
Each, the uncarved block, and the short sword, or tantō, laid atop of pǔ
Answer this question, why simplicity matters, lightning strikes me blind
Success lacks value if everyone else is poor, homeless and hungry
Elucidate light that shines out of the pitch black darkness of deep strife
Enlightenment seeks clarity, carat weight, cut, and color, say wú
Xenophobic heirs of dharma, Buddha nature? Unfortunate dog
Provides old Zhàozhōu with the bile of Baudelaire, negative, angry
Lessons to learn, not from ascribing to a dog the privilege of 'no'
Answer this question, why privilege the paradox of truth as distinct
Indeed opinions matter not for zen masters, mind, nothing to know
Not emptiness, though, nor impermanence, no-self, suffering, succinct
How a poet writes, point at the moon, voicelessly, the sound of a clog
Of one hand clapping, absurd, meaningless drivel, we lap up such drool
Weened of sense, nonsense, and understanding since birth, mind is but a tool
Tuesday, January 17, 2023
"I'm Sorry, I Miss You" ~ Tuesday, January 17, 2023
Long gone now, she sleeps in a satin-lined casket, waiting for Jesus
only for a blip on the radar, our friendship disappeared like smoke
not that it matters, at least, maybe, not to her, but what do I know
grass, in the darkness, she told me of her sorrow, belief in grievous
gratuitous harm, she had tried just once before, why me, was it love
only to look back, she was twenty-two years old, tears without a joke
nothing to buffer suffering, even laughter, I sat like a crow
even the darkness could not hide my raven locks, yet, I could not smile
Now, twenty-six years later, and I was five years older, look down from above
of course, now, I laugh, at the idea of heaven, of angels and God
wicked, wicked smile, I know death as the Aztecs ate the beating heart
She was there inside, at home, her car parked outside, I stood like a clod
how, then, could I know that day she would find success, her attempt to part
even now, I cry for her, for myself, for love, stabbed with a nail file
only for a blip on the radar, our friendship disappeared like smoke
not that it matters, at least, maybe, not to her, but what do I know
grass, in the darkness, she told me of her sorrow, belief in grievous
gratuitous harm, she had tried just once before, why me, was it love
only to look back, she was twenty-two years old, tears without a joke
nothing to buffer suffering, even laughter, I sat like a crow
even the darkness could not hide my raven locks, yet, I could not smile
Now, twenty-six years later, and I was five years older, look down from above
of course, now, I laugh, at the idea of heaven, of angels and God
wicked, wicked smile, I know death as the Aztecs ate the beating heart
She was there inside, at home, her car parked outside, I stood like a clod
how, then, could I know that day she would find success, her attempt to part
even now, I cry for her, for myself, for love, stabbed with a nail file
Saturday, January 7, 2023
A Prayer for Dark Hype ~ Saturday, January 7, 2023
Dark Hype is her name and disruption is her game, change seeks out the spark
Absolute Zero, the hero of our story, fights not for glory
Resolute, "rent 'paid'", along with the French maid, dressed to impress, recast
Killer in his home, she gets the drop on Zero and, leaves not a mark
Hype is her last name, as Hype Dark is in Hyde Park, she plays Mr. Hyde
Yes, that Mr. Hyde, the bane of Dr. Jekyll, slate from a quarry
Parry and riposte, Absolute Zero worries not that his lost past
Emits the green glow of fireflies burning brightly in the heat of night
Pray for Mr. Hyde, for the movement of Dark Hype and, for the Dark Side
Realize, she waves a feather duster to brush his shade from the gloom
Argue to pardon a criminal of madness, how inane to blame
Yes, a mastermind, of stupidity, to catch a fool in a room
Exiting a safe, with nothing in her bare hands, what could be her game
Dark Hype as practice, training for the one big score, darkness without light
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)