Category Archives: Poems

Poetry, including verse and song lyrics.

Seasoning

Time knows no season; Spring doesn’t turn to Summer in just one moment. The now is all that exists. You cannot measure its span.

Life did not begin; it is always here and now. It is infinite. Before you take the next breath, let your lungs taste it. 

13 JUN 2024

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Shikantaza

Who is just sitting?
It is not me, or is it,
here on the cushion.
Who is asking the question?
Nobody really knows that.

13 JUN 2024

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This Moment of Now

In a moment’s span
life expands to fill the void;
a flower blooming
is a gentle breath of air:
earth and sky come together.

04 JUN 2024

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Thisness

I think, therefore I am not being.
When I am, I don’t need to think about it;
How does a raindrop perceive itself,
either forming in the cloud,
dripping down the sky,
or disappearing in the ocean?

It is only wet.
There is no deep dive required.

30 APR 2024

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Sprung

Just when the flesh is willing, then the spirit becomes weak:
our words bubble up easier, but they’re harder to speak.
So often, much less useful when determining one’s fate,
and many times, just wasted, once the hour becomes late. Then when the spirit’s willing, the flesh can tend to fail:
there’s steam to blow the whistle, but rust built up on the rails.
The reflex meant for rolling gets caught up, its aging gears
left toothless and un-oiled, neglected for so many years.We spend our spirit carelessly in worship of the flesh:
admiring how a thing performs based solely on its dress,
and burning out our bodies chasing bright and shining mist;
extravagantly wasting wealth on what doesn’t exist. And when the flesh is worn and old, we try to lay the blame
on time and chance, forgiving of the player, not the game.
Then spirit tries to rally, but the best that it can do
is play the sad curmudgeon for a last season or two. 24 APR 2023

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No Substitute

There is no substitute for it, you know;
it doesn’t grow on trees, or wait,
like opportunity will, for you
to make a stab or take a chance.

Just what it is, is hard to say;
at least, descriptions formed by words
most often tend to miss the mark.
It doesn’t fit well in a box.

It isn’t what you think it is;
besides, it’s not so stuck in time
that mere conveniences apply
or easy labels stay affixed.

There is no substitute for it; and yet,
its absence most won’t even note.
Like air, that seems so commonplace
until it’s missing from your throat.

04 AUG 2020

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The Wider, More Ignorant World

Your words can live forever
cast out in the virtual plane.
They truly are immortal now,
and the internet’s to blame.

No matter your intentions
or the crowd you thought to reach,
your thoughts will be interpreted
and stretched until they reach

the few who you expected,
several more who understand,
a couple dozen converts,
maybe some who’ll take a stand,

and thousands, who although confused
by how you use your terms
will swear your wisdom isn’t fit
for thinking men, but worms.

But that is not the full extent
to which your text will go.
In violent, fiery rhetoric,
some radicals will show

that you are either full of light,
or bullshit, and your words
will serve to fuel the fires of hate,
no matter how absurd.

And nothing you can do or say
will make that flag unfurl,
once you decide to publish for
the wider, more ignorant world.

23 AUG 2017

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