[ARTS]: Big and Little Poetry--free verse, any verse.

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  • Tai Shi
    Member
    • Oct 2014
    • 3438

    Originally posted by Tai Shi
    We have all learned valuable lessons which could be turned into poetry. Look inside for your valuable lessons, there you will surely find gems of love and frustration, even hate which can be turned and dulled by the open heart of a poem, as one great man said, poetry is the overflow of strong feelings, (emotions) recolected in tranquility (or remembered in verse.). Try your hand twice, three times, You just might find a passion you could enjoy for life, and make poems in the silence of your heart, Open you feelings to the caves of solitude, be alone with your verses, in a journal, or a notebook. Give your soul to a path, to sorrow or joy, Poetry is negative caapability. Then you will be never really be alone again because thes gems will ever be mounted into psgse of glory.

    Gassho Tai Shi
    sat today/ lent a hand
    Dedicated to our new friend Pacco.

    Tai Shi
    Last edited by Tai Shi; 08-19-2024, 07:58 PM.
    Peaceful, Tai Shi. Ubasoku; calm, supportive, for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆

    Comment

    • Tai Shi
      Member
      • Oct 2014
      • 3438

      I Have Joy Today

      I have found joy today
      Easy solomn, wistiful
      Morning, I say, isn't
      Reality never confidential.
      Somewhere in four vows,
      How do I have reality
      Fixed against North Star,
      Around which, without cold
      Exasperations, I forget
      Nothing, wander against,
      Midnight sun, against Big
      Bear, Looking for little
      Bear, I sing at one o' clock,
      In this morning of liberation.
      Isn't this specific, to write
      Poetry like playing
      The piano, beautiful
      Chords? Sing out
      Of four foot box, isn't some
      Reliance upon song more
      Important? I come to handle!
      I know I have found in strings
      Of words, singing out
      Of chords, Piano rings
      Beyond belief, my song

      These do not batter against
      Wars, wars, wars, to inhabit
      Another wrong, in memory
      I cry for six million Jews
      Put to death in chambers,
      These were not showers,
      But death disguised as hygene,
      How could I cry, how could
      I die without clothing
      Against morning star,
      Remembering our Buddha,

      With brightest Loving Kindness,
      We sing our song with backdrop
      Of Wisdom. Oh, Buddha sing
      To all of us, especily six
      Million separations placing
      Forth reality as Buddha song,
      Life cannot be promised each
      And every Jew, Gentile, Muslom,
      Infidel of Knowledge, Sangha
      Without wisdom, found beside
      Water wells, with water song
      Embittered, with stinging
      Knowledge every Jew struck down
      In freedom's liberation
      Among camps of freedom
      Let us finally sing Glory

      Of piano, lost chord, beauty
      Found in freedom let it ring
      Out opposite chords,
      Of desperration, battles won
      Slight of hand. Magician's hat
      Every soldier crying for each
      Jew, eighteen million, ninteen
      Million, World Ware one, Millions,
      Twenty-eight million. Never again
      Such sloughter of human kind
      All of history cannot ring out
      Glory, it is sorrow, it is

      Some embittered, song,
      Like bitter herbs at passover,
      We do not find first born
      From Angle of Death struck
      Down, it is Freedom to leave
      This battle, Death is not proud
      Finally lost Chourd
      Is found, naked in the sun
      Let go from each battle
      Of crossing, parted red sea.

      We shall all know Buddha's
      Freedom of Loving Kindnes
      Wisdom of Overt peace
      From each battle, red
      Flowing body's blood, raw
      Dried into crusted coat,
      Above this door. not paint,
      Blood of every soldier,

      Until Palistine is liberated
      From this horrror no,
      No more battles, let
      Freedom Ring
      As Kamalla Harris comes
      Along, another story
      Shall sing another lullaby,
      Pradises of pianos? Lost
      Chord, ls found, each battle
      Come to end, bodies, We
      Wonder of dead. Yet, it's time
      To sing. Sing summer Peace
      Summer soldier. Poetry,
      Prayer, Loving Kindness,
      Most Important sermon
      The Buddha ever gave.
      Peace, let Freedom ring.
      Peaceful poetry, as mine
      It's Time to rest, rest and sing.

      Gassho
      Deepest Bows
      sat/lend a hand.

      I weep for my own poetry,
      Let rissen be this story
      Of all humanity. Calm Poetry.
      Last edited by Tai Shi; 08-22-2024, 04:28 PM.
      Peaceful, Tai Shi. Ubasoku; calm, supportive, for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆

      Comment

      • Tai Shi
        Member
        • Oct 2014
        • 3438

        I realized It's 10 years

        My Dharma Name

        It is actually 10 years
        Not eight years, 10
        On October 17th, 8
        On January 10, 2016,
        My first Jukai, These
        Are Celibrations, when
        10 chimes, years I will
        Be clearly studying Jukai,
        I would have been
        Lost in my anger, greed,
        Now never dulled, my gift
        Of Rakusu.

        Heartfelt comitment,
        This reality of all gifts, for
        It was in early December,
        My package arrrived
        From somewhere, in USA!
        My Rakusu was gifted me,
        However, my join date
        is October 17th, which
        resulted in the longest
        Undertaking in my entire life,
        Except grad school and marriage,
        One eleven years, the otther 42.
        Now Ubsoku, I am a Calm
        Poet, remembering my
        Dharma which I was Given
        To help me along this given
        Path, this peaceful path,
        Finally resulting in a given path,
        Thank you, Jundo! You
        Hit the mark. Zen, and
        Artistic Art of Archery!

        This is most important for
        Our child we raised. She
        Has become brilliant scholar
        Translator, and poet, so like
        My father, I gaver direction,
        While Marjorie gave her
        These brilliance of words
        Song, and Praise. She
        Is our ofspring as from
        The brow of Athena!
        Do you know we passed
        To her these hearts folded
        Into one, for on March 27th
        She will be thirty six,
        Summer befire, gave her
        My Sober life pulmanologist
        Says greatest gift I ever
        Gave to her, mother gave
        To both of us her loyaty
        And her heart.

        Gassho
        sat/ lend a hand
        Last edited by Tai Shi; 08-22-2024, 05:48 PM.
        Peaceful, Tai Shi. Ubasoku; calm, supportive, for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆

        Comment

        • Tai Shi
          Member
          • Oct 2014
          • 3438

          If I Have said,

          I know I Have

          That it would not
          Ban Ango without me,
          Let me up to do to sit
          I will be at both Ango,
          Jukai both such
          That I can make
          Anew, my new Rakusu
          If you will allow
          Me to see my way
          Though what I will not
          Check into Facebook
          I will more than review
          Lotus Sutra, more
          Than review Budhist
          History, sit each
          Morning, sit every Friday
          Nightly with all of you,
          Sit with nights, my friend
          Kyousui who saved me,
          Knowingly Kinhin
          How to spell every
          Word, you may
          See anyway, what
          We can make this book
          Alive and wide, my
          Book with Ango study
          As during everything
          Monsoon wantingly, not
          More ZaZenkai, more
          Friendship please, more
          Let me see fellowship
          With you not another
          Without this Lonely Ango, sit
          Study ours is sadly to be
          Twin; without another person?
          Alternatly wanting more
          Through Ango,
          Without you!
          Just for me.
          We are friends,
          Brotherly.
          Love, Twin
          Let us be.

          Gassho
          lah/sat
          Last edited by Tai Shi; 09-02-2024, 03:19 PM.
          Peaceful, Tai Shi. Ubasoku; calm, supportive, for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆

          Comment

          • Tai Shi
            Member
            • Oct 2014
            • 3438

            Find Jukai

            Let me say I will not be
            Dead For Ango,
            Jukai Books we have
            What we will participate
            In Reading for Jukai
            Be specificlly
            In preparation for
            Prosperity, comittment
            Once again to every
            Cerimony, every notion,
            Sit in no movement
            With Kinhin if you find,
            Let me into Nigtly
            Friday solenity,
            My cerimony; so
            I Thank you, thank thee
            Oh, teacher Jundo
            Let me understand
            What it is to be,
            To See, to Be,
            Understandingly, Reverrntly
            Free to witness or to see
            What it is more to me.
            Nothing to want our renounce
            Bigihtly to dream,
            Our Shame, what it is
            To becames us, what ours
            Made real life, in loyalty
            Precepts, Never kill,
            Never lie. Never sigh,
            Never in sexulity to defame
            We can not know in essence
            All that is true, all that is you
            We do is new this is happy
            What to do is silenced
            Always essence friendly
            Of Life, in reality.
            Our life always to know so to be.
            Of lastingly what it is
            To Be, knowingly
            Brotherhood ever to see
            Thot what it is today, to be friends
            Nothing more, just what is
            What can be, we know of eachother.
            Calm Poetry. What he cannot
            Understand knowingly.

            Gassho
            lah/ sat
            Tai Shi
            Last edited by Tai Shi; 09-02-2024, 03:46 PM.
            Peaceful, Tai Shi. Ubasoku; calm, supportive, for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆

            Comment

            • Guest

              Originally posted by Tai Shi
              Let me say I will not be late
              Put me Fot Ango,
              Jukai. Book you have
              That I will participate
              In Ango and Jukai
              And be specificaly
              In prepation for
              Prosperity and comittment
              Once again to every
              Cerimony, and sit
              With Kinkin if you
              Let me into Nithtly
              Fryday evry nightly
              Cerimony; then so like
              Jukai, Thank you
              Oh, my teacher Jundo

              Gassho
              sat/ lend a hand
              Tai Shi,
              You are very a talented poet and have such a treasury of poetry here. Thank you for commenting on my artwork and letting me know of this thread. I get overwhelmed at times with the amount of content here at Treeleaf, it's helpful to have suggestions on what to see.

              Gassho,
              Paco

              Comment

              • Guest

                both
                before
                after
                one is all
                there comes a moment
                the moment
                sun breaks
                the ocean of our blue bodies
                fingers of desert & dawn
                bones of all that
                which came
                buried
                before in our
                brows
                shoulder of crow
                beak of hawk
                eagle claw
                we become the dying
                of the
                blistered sun
                decay
                of the atom
                within our abdomen
                crouched
                howling
                the tides
                surrendering to the
                moon
                monthly obsequence
                we bow politely
                to the stars
                our eyes uncovered for a brief moment


                Gassho
                Paco


                edit 8/29: sat/lah (I now understand what these mean )
                Last edited by Guest; 08-29-2024, 11:53 PM.

                Comment

                • Tai Shi
                  Member
                  • Oct 2014
                  • 3438

                  Priest-in-Training, I Host
                  My Rags Gifts of Priests, Clergy

                  I had wanted to be clergy
                  As boy after church camp
                  I had wanted to teach, preach
                  Blood of Jesus, equated
                  With my parents, whose
                  Cross, hammered nails into hands
                  Spear into side, beast friend betryal
                  Not once but three times, now
                  I am an old man, in less than
                  Two weeks I will be seventy-three
                  Seventy three years, then
                  In High School I wantted to be
                  Space MAN, withstand radiation
                  For years, discover alian races,
                  They would be Parented who never
                  Broke my heart, never beat me,
                  Never contridicted my words,
                  With their lies, so Joind Boys
                  Club, there I taught photograpy
                  To this group of little Black Kids, one name
                  Believe me was Harry Baily, then I was white
                  Where are Black, who As old man met lifer in U.S.
                  Army, his name, Bill Baily, now. gone honestly
                  He's dead, quiet, after he retired, sat in corner
                  He joined groups where we swore on Big Book
                  Off drinking any alcohol, I had
                  Become a poet, when I asked
                  Methodist cleargy if I might
                  Become Lay Minister, keep my
                  Buddhahood, keep my Loving
                  Kindness, I believed Dali, greatest
                  Lama, that Kindness was
                  My religion, Buddha said
                  "Most important is Loving
                  Kindness" what difference
                  Was love one another, love, each,
                  thy neighbor" as in humanity
                  Said, love, not machine guns, bombs
                  Was most importantt, not as
                  In sex, but in those friends, those students
                  Family we could understand Poetry
                  Deep down inside, spirit, givinfg
                  Everything even my life, death not Poetry
                  There is one who never betrayed, me,
                  Me, my locving wife, her name
                  My answer, in university all I was to be
                  Was Like Keates, Truth is Beauty
                  Beauty is truth, truth, unlike, psychology
                  My Parents, my father held his belt
                  High, father I searched out after He
                  Abandoned me, after ten years
                  Nothing years, I didn't know where
                  He lived, so I called up my aunt

                  Karen who gave me his number,
                  So I called, after Europe he was at home
                  Never gave me a nickle Wanted me be,
                  Germany. I never learned past first year,
                  Quit Sanoma State University they wanted
                  Me to study.This was Grattis, then ten years
                  Later I found one who loved
                  Me unconditionally, who gave me her MFA
                  Sold to her as I was an old man founf her,
                  Sixty-nine, now she's sixty-nine-years-old
                  I received my gifts, she made me become
                  Poetry. Me poet at forty, at brink, quit drink
                  Thirty-eight she bore our child
                  Almost died for that birth, LOVE eterna
                  For both of us,I began to thank her all my life,
                  I had quit drinking, she taught gratitude

                  Me, I was to be honest, how to give
                  How to take my meager money,
                  Spend less, always give to her
                  With our woman child, we often
                  Ask each other, "Who are we? How
                  Dit it happen? How did we raise her, our child
                  To be everlasting honesty? Be Professor
                  From birth how did we teach honestly
                  Loveing," She became Dr. of Philosophy,
                  Laurel Ann, I wassn't always
                  Easy! What I wanted, I never quit
                  MFA Writing, even Poettry, here give
                  Oh, poetry, out PhD for daughter, Professor
                  Of Japanese Oh our Pearl of Greatest
                  Marjorie, I still love you after
                  Forty-four years, as we renewed
                  Our Love ever after, our eternity.

                  Women asked to be honest
                  Magnitudes of hosting nothing
                  Trees Red rust, Yellow, did
                  My mother beat me for nothing,
                  Already upon trees, I live in Tree
                  Leaf, In Treelef which doesn't
                  Exist except in these three, four
                  Computers, more in my heart, my
                  Mind, this more is on October 17th--ten
                  Yearrs doing Soto Zen still
                  I couldn't be cleargy when I wasn't
                  I asked Marjorie said "NO!"
                  Thought as my body had become
                  Weak, frail, computer skills gone,
                  We could only live for each other,
                  Daughter stays in touch almost
                  Every day, Profeessor fluent in Jaapanese,
                  Daughter studied Japanese Literature
                  When she was Eighteen, she gave
                  All to honesty, was proud of Dad
                  How could she be so, love, I was Professor
                  Eternally, only instructorshe may never marry,
                  Two did not betray me, loved me, love me.

                  With women asked
                  So he says, she says,
                  Women asked thy heart to host
                  Ring the bell thrice, or just for
                  Honesty once, sat thirty minutes
                  Once, ring Bell what is it to learn?
                  Who asked them, spit on duties vine in two
                  Said thy love is my honesty, no wine
                  My honesty, my forgiveness can I be
                  Honesty, Marjorie said, "Perhaps,
                  You were really not cut out to be clergy,
                  My only stint as close to clergy
                  Ubasoku, giving, support with
                  Daughter, feriends, family,
                  "Love one another, being, I am frail,
                  Buddha is most like Christ, reality,,"
                  I have found loving-kindness,
                  Nature, said, Keats, said, "Poetry
                  Must be as natural as leaves
                  On the Trees," so I dwell in places
                  That ever not--were that only exist
                  Imaginary in space like Poety, like honesty.

                  Gaassho
                  lah/sat
                  Gave to Tai Shi
                  Last edited by Tai Shi; 08-30-2024, 03:22 PM.
                  Peaceful, Tai Shi. Ubasoku; calm, supportive, for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆

                  Comment

                  • Tai Shi
                    Member
                    • Oct 2014
                    • 3438

                    Moments of Song

                    Thid mornining brings glorious
                    Wonder, why do we praise moments?
                    Why so more sintilating movmement
                    Buddha insight? Wonder again?

                    Wonderment devine, morsals,
                    Of Delight, divisions of reverent
                    Divded day insulent rerervenit,
                    Wonderment, moments into silence

                    These are days without ties,
                    To miraculous delitment, of days
                    Of days of morning light
                    Without more solitude of song.

                    Tai Shi
                    Gassho
                    lah/sat
                    Peaceful, Tai Shi. Ubasoku; calm, supportive, for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆

                    Comment

                    • Matt Johnson
                      Member
                      • Jun 2024
                      • 490

                      Fall Hermit

                      I done a hard thing
                      Served a mountain of Pizza
                      Died to the summer

                      Floating no goal
                      Fall preparation has begun
                      My Hermitage

                      A yurt, a forest
                      Precepts and a rakusu
                      Dreams of empty space

                      _/\_
                      sat/ah
                      matt

                      Comment

                      • Tai Shi
                        Member
                        • Oct 2014
                        • 3438

                        Three Teachers, (Four Poems)


                        Ultimate Questions

                        One writes big
                        One writes small, Big
                        and Little poetry haven't
                        We said bitrh can mingle like love
                        Of flowers, love of zenith, one
                        Love of Planet, Galaxy, Earth

                        It's Earthtide, Moon,
                        Male Tide, Female
                        Tide. Chinese
                        Space race,
                        Russian Space
                        Races

                        Daughter it's
                        Wonderful. its
                        My gift to my
                        Femenity, all senerity
                        Unsucessful marriges,
                        Successful narrative
                        No marrige, questions
                        Of femenity this freedom
                        Daughter It's given
                        Rough hewen,
                        Trees

                        Lesson plans, sigh
                        You have plans right
                        The idea is to get
                        Students, boys,
                        Girls to grow up
                        Speak Japanese.
                        My job was to seek
                        Expression, like
                        James Moffet taught
                        Expression of Language
                        Three Rings

                        First writing of work
                        He called it transactional,
                        Then come language
                        Of self, self personal
                        With always audience
                        Of one, audience
                        Then came language of art
                        Everything to create?




                        All Three Come
                        To Teaching

                        Truth comes, art, poetry
                        Beautiful language
                        Itself personal,
                        Transactional
                        Again language of all
                        Creation, showing

                        Beautiful unity, focus
                        Building blocks, outline,
                        This is creation most
                        Beautiful of all, narrative
                        Everything is story,
                        Grammar,
                        Direction,

                        Poetry is everything
                        Even weather girls,
                        I gave to daughter
                        Gavelanguage
                        Broken
                        Whole sentances
                        Back to me

                        My birthday ice-
                        Cream cake, building
                        Out of chaos, Electricity
                        In Rock music, electronically
                        Formulated
                        Certainty was mine
                        Claim of twin towers,
                        I had it first written poetry
                        Four o'clock mother
                        AM, mother Gave birth,
                        Silently, father alone
                        One even September
                        Elventh ninteen, fifty-
                        One, ultimately all
                        Of us are one, we
                        Cannot pull father
                        Out of womb!
                        Left for doctors,
                        Nurses, Asked
                        "Toch her. She's yours!"

                        Instill this gift
                        Always life
                        As direction
                        Father was working
                        To create even
                        If it's poetry nothing
                        No pay for poetry

                        You united all three
                        Little one that's is genius,
                        In your PhD, transactional
                        Personal, written art
                        Out of translations
                        Creation of Poetry.

                        That was my gift,
                        Tansactional, Personal,
                        United in Art,
                        Taught at universities,
                        You gave me, creation
                        Of Poetry, father's job
                        Completed as you
                        Became your own, teacher
                        Of your own creation
                        Lessons Planned, Outlined,
                        Orginized all work father,
                        Trasactional, my father
                        World of oil fields
                        Your world ultimately
                        Found language
                        One creation united
                        Translations Creation
                        Of beauty, translations
                        Of art, writing your own poetry.

                        You are ultimately
                        Poetry of heart
                        Showing humanity
                        Language of birth,

                        I gave you your own birth
                        From my shoulders
                        Never bootstraps.
                        My father gave me
                        Ultimately language
                        Of work his completely
                        Transactional
                        I rejected worl of oil
                        Rigs, Math, Machines,
                        Electronics.
                        Father's own boots
                        Climbing Towers
                        Pounding into Earth.



                        Transations, Abstract
                        Personal Art

                        Wait, he was ultmately
                        Teacher of trnsactions,
                        His was creation of Earth
                        I was a teacher of expression
                        Essays of worth, solid
                        Classifications, arguments
                        Poetry of Salt, Herritage
                        Of personal, art
                        Out,of all three
                        Out of dust, out'
                        Of concrete mixed with rock
                        Sand, water traweled

                        Into fences, into driveways
                        Into transations of Falls
                        Into chairs, onto wood floors,
                        Into seventy-three-years-old
                        Falling, stumbaling, cutting
                        Arms, hands, I age like
                        Father who must die
                        Of cardiac arrest, heart
                        Quits pumping, fails
                        From pulminary arrest
                        Lungs quit pumping
                        Daughter shoulder
                        Your load. You teach
                        At thirty-five, yours is legacy
                        Of Professorship
                        Working tword longevity.

                        All of us, daughter,
                        My poetry of raw material,
                        Pictures, my father
                        We became teachers
                        Language you of transactions
                        Combined in all three,
                        Poetry, personal
                        Transational
                        In kindness to Japanese

                        Who were not
                        Bombs of of Peral
                        Harbor, Pacific Campaign
                        Okinawa
                        To avoid slaughter of humanity
                        Two-hunfred fifty thousand
                        Lives taken with
                        Two bombs
                        We are no Heroshima,
                        Nagasaki, this is
                        Your time, Father great
                        Depression For me twin towers
                        Legacy from Lutenat Cowley
                        Milai, entire village
                        Slaughtered, Vietnam
                        Thich Naht Hanah

                        Dughter, Desert Storm
                        Jewish ultimate question,
                        Ultimate question Her Nebula
                        Inherited all of us
                        Within her PhD.
                        This was the dream
                        Of my father, and me,
                        You completed direction
                        You made your own PhD
                        You finally you worked,
                        Ours was creation,
                        You mayNever marry,
                        I see It clearly




                        Three Teachers
                        Questions of Peace

                        I gave you my shoulders
                        To climb out of this mess
                        My father gave me
                        His bootstaps to climb
                        Out of this mess,
                        So I became teacher
                        Of Poetry, personal

                        You are all three
                        Transactional, personal
                        Art as I watched you
                        Take the Apgar,
                        I touched her,
                        Nurses, doctors
                        Gave you hard,
                        Hard hard birth,
                        You were thirty days
                        Old we saw it
                        AVM on bottom
                        Of your left foot,
                        No ammount of surgery
                        Could give you
                        What I had, brain surgery
                        Entirely throught
                        Mine was successfully
                        Hought for life,
                        Your decision

                        You nearly died
                        From AVM,
                        Ours is a differny solution
                        You will never marry
                        Or bear children yet
                        You bear all children
                        If great depression
                        Atom bombs
                        World war three as Eart
                        Explode its Envirement
                        With our dream
                        In your PhD, gratitude
                        In a way you
                        Not only climbed
                        From my shoulders,

                        You climbed from my
                        Fathers Bootstraps,
                        You are creator, you
                        Artist ultimately
                        Will your generation
                        Save Enviornment,
                        Your Japanese
                        Language of ten thousand

                        Paper cranes, oh boats
                        Of children, of Peace,
                        You are a Professor
                        Of Japanese, you
                        Are saving little
                        Ones as university
                        Prfessor of Japanese,
                        This is your
                        Ultimate sucess,
                        To live inspite of dozens
                        Of surgeries,
                        Like our own tumors,
                        You live beyond,
                        You have found peace
                        Tranquality, all
                        That grandpa Atom Bomb,
                        My generation Vietnam
                        Your generation, Do we
                        Destroy Earth, for Short sighted
                        Luxery, oil, gas, plastiv
                        Beer bottles,, filth, dropped
                        To Bottom of Mariannes Trench

                        Demanding Peace,
                        This is our legaccy, did
                        All three find our own
                        Peace? Will humanity
                        Destroy Earth
                        Not heading creations
                        Of artestry, Poetry
                        Personal, Transactions,
                        Warnings of teachers,
                        Is this question of Peace?


                        Gassho
                        lah/sat
                        Tai Shi
                        Calm Poetry
                        Last edited by Tai Shi; 09-05-2024, 02:49 PM.
                        Peaceful, Tai Shi. Ubasoku; calm, supportive, for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆

                        Comment

                        • Matt Johnson
                          Member
                          • Jun 2024
                          • 490

                          Originally posted by Tai Shi
                          Three Teachers, (Four Poems)

                          First writing of work
                          He called it transactional,
                          Then come language
                          Of self, self personal
                          With always audience
                          Of one, audience
                          Then came language of art
                          Everything to create?....….........

                          Foots Down

                          Oh my child, can it be?
                          It is now time for me to say
                          I must let you learn the hard way?

                          17 years of feeling
                          Your pain, Our pain
                          Fix your own damn drive train.

                          Wait till graduation
                          Delayed gratification
                          Is what builds a nation

                          24 years for a Rakusu
                          24 weeks for a car
                          Didn't think we'd get this far

                          The time has come
                          If you want it, work for it
                          Or simply stop wanting shit

                          Is the best lesson I could teach
                          The only lesson you will get
                          No, you are not an adult yet

                          My parents never taught me this
                          "I'll be a better one" is the danger
                          By not giving into our anger




                          This poem is probably a little more "literal" than yours Taishi. I still have a lot of concepts about what makes a poem. I'm sure you can teach me a thing or two. I'm happy to be your Ango partner and I'm happy to use poetry to communicate.

                          _/\_
                          sat/ah
                          matt
                          Last edited by Matt Johnson; 09-05-2024, 03:29 PM.

                          Comment

                          • Matt Johnson
                            Member
                            • Jun 2024
                            • 490


                            戒 (Kai)

                            Not Shimano’s or Sasaki’s women,
                            Who fell beneath their whispered sin,
                            Not Anderson’s fatal spree,
                            Not Maezumi’s hidden glee.

                            Not Baker’s downfall, pride astray,
                            Not Ikkyu’s crossing every line,
                            Not Dalai Lama’s strange embrace,
                            Of Asahara’s deadly grace.

                            Not Jean Vanier’s women’s trial,
                            Nor Trungpa’s coked-up reckless style,
                            Not Seung Sahn’s heart of lies,
                            Not Chögyal’s wild fantasy skies.

                            Not Merzel’s twisted Zen charade,
                            Not Taisen’s lineage mislaid,
                            Not Swami Rama’s secret play,
                            Nor Osho’s poisoned desert sway.

                            Not Sogyal’s cult-like grip of pain,
                            Not Amrit Desai’s lustful reign,
                            Not Gandhi's troubling Manu test,
                            Nor Muktananda’s darkened quest.​

                            These saints who stumbled from on high— It seems the brightest lights have shadows. Why?
                            If all roads lead to such a fall,
                            Why seek to lead, when truth veils all?
                            Perhaps it's best to live and be,
                            A simple heart, untamed, yet free.

                            _/\_
                            sat/ah
                            matt​

                            Comment

                            • Jundo
                              Treeleaf Founder and Priest
                              • Apr 2006
                              • 40719

                              Originally posted by Matt Johnson
                              戒 (Kai)

                              Not Shimano’s or Sasaki’s women,
                              Who fell beneath their whispered sin,
                              Not Anderson’s fatal spree,
                              Not Maezumi’s hidden glee.

                              Not Baker’s downfall, pride astray,
                              Not Ikkyu’s crossing every line,
                              Not Dalai Lama’s strange embrace,
                              Of Asahara’s deadly grace.

                              Not Jean Vanier’s women’s trial,
                              Nor Trungpa’s coked-up reckless style,
                              Not Seung Sahn’s heart of lies,
                              Not Chögyal’s wild fantasy skies.

                              Not Merzel’s twisted Zen charade,
                              Not Taisen’s lineage mislaid,
                              Not Swami Rama’s secret play,
                              Nor Osho’s poisoned desert sway.

                              Not Sogyal’s cult-like grip of pain,
                              Not Amrit Desai’s lustful reign,
                              Not Gandhi's troubling Manu test,
                              Nor Muktananda’s darkened quest.

                              These saints who stumbled from on high— It seems the brightest lights have shadows. Why?
                              If all roads lead to such a fall,
                              Why seek to lead, when truth veils all?
                              Perhaps it's best to live and be,
                              A simple heart, untamed, yet free.

                              _/\_
                              sat/ah
                              matt
                              I thank you for this. Powerful poem.

                              (I also read it twice, just checking that my name is not in there. Hopefully, there will be no future verse about me ever! I also remind folks constantly about the HUNDREDS of Zen and other Buddhist teachers who help people, not hurt them, make no bad waves, cause no scandal ... so get no headlines, and no poem. The bad apples get the attention ... as they should ... but the beautiful orchard sometimes get ignored. )

                              Gassho, J
                              stlah
                              ALL OF LIFE IS OUR TEMPLE

                              Comment

                              • Matt Johnson
                                Member
                                • Jun 2024
                                • 490

                                Originally posted by Jundo

                                I thank you for this. Powerful poem.

                                (I also read it twice, just checking that my name is not in there. Hopefully, there will be no future verse about me ever! I also remind folks constantly about the HUNDREDS of Zen and other Buddhist teachers who help people, not hurt them, make no bad waves, cause no scandal ... so get no headlines, and no poem. The bad apples get the attention ... as they should ... but the beautiful orchard sometimes get ignored. )

                                Gassho, J
                                stlah
                                No so far the only thing I've heard about you is that you're argumentative. But I can't really say anything about that myself (glass houses and all)...

                                _/\_
                                sat/ah
                                matt

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