A Few Poems

Viveka
Praise not that god
who claims a unicity beyond himself
and jealously guards what glory he has
through the tools of oppression.
Worship truly that God
Who claims for Himself only Being
and grants us, whether in heaven
or hell, the tools of Liberation.

Liche
There is something which is
— and always will be —
sinister in the heart of me.
What great good fortune!
that my God adores
even the dirty undead.

Companion
You could spend your time
and the karmas of this life
with anybody at all.
Often enough, you pick me.
One such as I
should feel honor enough
just to have you cut my eyes.
So.
Perhaps I’m not so bad
after all?

Advertisements

Right This Moment

I don’t share much of my “personal life” on here, and I tend to hold much of my personality itself back. But, well, today I’m struck by the strangeness of humanity, myself included. My mind, my emotions, these are often so alien to me. That, I might say, is why I started to explore “things spiritual” in the first place. For as long as I can remember, the strongest “emotion” or, more precisely, sensation I felt was perplexity. Sometimes it came out as awe and wonder, sometimes as existential terror, and sometimes as viscera-powdering depression. But, really, they all go back to the perplexity. I wouldn’t quite call it confusion, but rather a recognition that there is a pattern there, but that it is way too big or way too small — in any case, not within my section of the spectrum — to be seen. Humans are more a part of this confounding “whole” than we think; one of the weirdest things about us is our shared incapacity to remember, to know what’s good for us, even as it stares us in the face and whispers in our ears.

Well, I’m glad to be here, anyway, even during the painful stuff. I’ve mostly lost my independent streak. Not to say I don’t still ask questions; I do, or I wouldn’t be here. But, as far as taking action, well, I pretty much do what I’m told. I get a signal that it is time to move; I move. It usually doesn’t work out very well, on the surface, but I learn something from it, take something away from it, and always land on my feet. I don’t know why things work like that, but when I question it too much I screw things up. This is that “faith” thing in action, I suppose.

I’m not really trying to philosophize, this time, nor to provide any metaphysical insight. Think of this entry as an addendum to the rest of my writing: less formal and thought-out than my articles, less inspired than my poetry, but just as honest as either. Maybe I’ll do more of this kind of thing, and maybe I won’t. We’ll see. I suppose, like everything else, I’ll do it when it seems the natural course, and not do it if it is merely “personally satisfying”. I guess I just feel the need to share a little bit of myself, right now. Though not entirely fun to do, I think I need to do more of it. Let’s see what happens.

In Memory of Lord Sluk

A friend of mine, whom I admire deeply, who taught me a lot, and who wouldn’t want me to say very many kind things about him, has passed. He also wouldn’t want me to use euphemisms. He died. Though I wouldn’t try to be him, and couldn’t, I wanted to express something of how he influenced me. So, here are some things I wrote for him.

Sluk Bodhisattva
Late-night Zen happens
as shreds from e-Roshi’s axe
Pure Land welcomes you

For a Friend
Roses are red and
violets are blue, right?, but
this haiku is terrible

Jest
No doubt
You’re laughing right now
seeing how your death
has slowed my heart.
You see the joke in my tears,
the punchline of mourning,
for your grin has become the sky.

I love you, Sluk. I’ll see you around.