Gravity bound

Been trying to leave here
since born of this earth.
I can't stand the hunger;
I can't stand the thirst.
Gravity bound me
since day of my birth.
This body so heavy
I don't mean the girth.

Steadily, inexorably,
it's pulling me down.
I'd rather be elsewhere
I'm gravity bound.
This appetite binds me
the sights and the sound.
I'm mentally babbling
pretending profound.

Been trying to leave here
since day of my birth.
This body so heavy
I don't mean the girth.
I'd rather be elsewhere
but fell for this earth.
The damned of the fallen;
now cuddling dirt.

Praying

We pray to God.
This much is true.
Prayers sent to Heaven,
and God prays too.

We pray an end
to suff'ring and strife.
God prays too,
and prayed your life.

We pray for mercy
and right reprieve.
So earnestly
on bended knee.

We look to the sky.
We plead and wait.
And God looks out,
and does the same.

We bow our heads
yet see no sign.
Feeling abandoned
we sob and cry.
Pray and pray
and wonder why.
We are our answer
our own reply.

We pray to God.
And God prays too.
God sent a prayer,
and it was you.

Paradise

The mountains high,
the skies so blue,
And all the sights
so fresh and new
No shortage of things
to see and do.
But paradise,
it passes too.

The mountain air,
the tropical sun.
Passerby:
a morning run.
A misty shower
that angels send.
But paradise,
it also ends.

The sun retires
to starry skies.
A different city
comes alive.
It seems an ideal
place to lie.
But paradise
won't always thrive.

The people bright,
the faces new,
some foreigners
in white and blue.
Sharing about
what's false what's True.
And paradise
it needs this too.

White clouds yield
to Bodhi sun.
Passerby:
a morning run.
The sounds of street
they pulse and thrive
as quiet drummers
come alive.

Seeking sideways.
Spinning 'round.
Climbing up
and falling down.
Looking,
it cannot be found.
And paradise
is more profound.

The mountains high,
the city streets.
A little drummer
and silent beats.
A change of heart
in tranquil time.
And paradise
cannot be mine.

A plane departs
to foreign land.
Where is conductor
of this band?
Can the drummers
beat in time?
Paradise,
won't you be mine?

The mountains high,
the skies so blue.
And none of it
compares to you.
Who discerns
what's false what's True.
And paradise,
it needs this too.

Intercession

Below Lotus
Kneeling
Bended knee.
Buddha, won't you
intercede?

We've weaved a mess here
in the muck.
Buddha, won't you
lift us up?

Silence
came the poignant reply.
Buddha! Rescue!
Lest we die!

A silence that crosses
time and space.
Buddha! We beg you!
Bestow your grace!

Buddha,
give us right reprieve!
Our enemies chase,
abuse, deceive!

Buddha!
Come!
Deliver us!
To the pristine lotus
beyond this muck.

You ask for what
you do not know.
And beg for grace
I did bestow.

Bestow I did,
but not your taste.
So kneeling, you beg
some other grace.

But there is no other
grace than this.
If you want the lotus
endure the shit.

Did you think
there was some other way?
If so, I'd have given it
yesterday!

Fake fertilizer
smells so sweet.
Yet die from cancer
before we meet.

You ask for gardens,
but not manure.
You want results
but can't endure.

You beg my mercy.
My mercy's this:
You beg for flowers;
I bless you shit.

My intercession
has already come.
The dawning of the
Bodhi Sun.

Get ready.
I tax you
further still.
Chase, besiege,
ground through the mill.

Below Lotus
Kneeling
Bended knee.
Buddha, won't you
intercede?

No pleasure in this flesh

There's no bodhi in this body;
no pleasure in this flesh.
The peak climax of orgasm:
the harbinger of death.

I haven't met a pleasure
that did not end in pain.
The newlyweds on honeymoon
years later are estranged.

Wine, it leads to drunkenness.
And drunkenness is bliss.
Bliss, it leads to headache, yeah,
and then we're back to this.

There's no bodhi in this body.
No comfort in this skin.
Sped along from cradle to grave
and then reborn again.

The fresh lightness of newborn.
The heaviness of age.
Tick tock the clock of moth and rust
and turn another page.

There's no bodhi in this body.
No pleasure in this tongue.
The first bite always tastes the best
the worst is when it's done.

It wants to go on tasting.
Such is the body's greed.
The appetite of treacherous tongue
it far exceeds the need!

Sick we are from excess:
the aftermath of feast.
The stomach turns and then we retch
and beg for right release.

There's no bodhi in this body.
No pleasure in this flesh.
Lovers turn to enemies.
If not, there's always death.

Above reproach

He sits on high,
above reproach.
A lofty perch,
I can't approach.

But his sitting,
is not done solidly.
His lofty seat
is tottering.

I approached his seat.
I scaled the height.
Disarmed my person
of sword and knife.
In peace I come
to exalted height.
In peace
so let not wrath ignite.

The sentries bristled,
they abused me so.
Exalted heights
I cannot go.

They were just about
to throw me down.
When that one spoke
who wore the crown.

They sheathed their blades,
withdrew their fists.
Those bodyguards,
they did desist.

I spoke in soft,
appealing tones.
His words like thunder;
from exalted throne.

I asked him how
he came to sit
on such precarious
precipice.

"My seat is solid!
My seat is might!
My seat on this
exalted height!"

Did it escape your notice
how can it be?
Do you not feel your seat
is teetering?

His sentries bristled,
they abused me so.
To exalted height
I'm loathe to go.

They were just about
to throw me down,
when that one spoke
who wore the crown.

"You've hidden weapon!
Your tongue is edge!
If again I see you,
you're good as dead!"

Cast down, I fell
from exalted height.
Naked I am
of sword and knife.

My tongue is clumsy
where is its edge?
If again I see him,
I will be bled.

One thing's certain.
One thing is true.
The one that bleeds;
it isn't you.

This just a concept;
not yet believed.
Betrayed I am
by trembling knees.

I approached his seat,
though I'd rather not.
I scaled the heights
too often sought.

His sentries bristled.
I gathered mettle.
Increased the bass;
reduced the treble.

I don't come
to stand against.
Nor do I demand
any recompense.

Abuse me thoroughly
if you must.
Death is coming.
Oh this I trust.

But tell me,
how you came to sit
on such precarious
precipice?

Don't you notice it
tottering left to right?
Have you considered a seat
at proper height?

The height you sit,
you cannot stay.
As rain,
you're sure to fall one day.
As thunder,
you'll make fantastic sound--
on the day that's coming,
when you're thrown down.

I don't come
to bring you dread
with stuttering tongue
you say is edged.

But if you must be cut,
then let blood fall.
Better a few drops
then lose it all!

But me? I'm one
of little might.
Of trembling voice
and stature slight.
Disarmed I am of
sword and knife.
How foolish to ascend
to such a height.

Bodyguards thus treat me
as one abhorred.
I can't yet bellow
Lion's Roar.

I want no contest.
I want no fight.
But have you considered
seat at proper height?

I'd rather see
a few drops fall.
Then have to
watch you
lose it all.

You sit on high,
above reproach.
A lofty perch,
I can't approach.

But approach I do
again...
again...
Knocking,
please let bodhi in.

To shoot the Buddha

Since I don't want to,
I'll go ahead.
And if I see the Buddha,
I'll shoot him dead!

Draw the sword,
cut off his head.
Only looks like Buddha,
to the demon's bed.

Too late.
I've arrived.
I've criticized.
I'm here in hell
with the best of guys.

You're raucous and vile.
My kinda guys.
But whatever happened to
that one so wise?

He was plain and boring
and not much fun.
But he reminded me of something:
the place I'm from.

Oh woe is me.
And me is woe.
Should've shot that Buddha;
he is my foe!

If I see him again,
I'll shoot him dead.
Draw the sword,
cut off his head.

How often does
True Buddha show?
So the ones I see
want to drag me low.

And the boring one
is well-disguised.
Never guessed his virtue
upholds the sky.

And me,
just what do I uphold?
My way.
By way.
Counterfeits sold.

Just find a good one
and stand behind.
Just go by his words;
don't offer mine.

Whatever you think
that must be best.
I'll bow and agree
like all the rest.

If I won't stand for you,
How can I stand for me?
If we won't stand,
how can we stand free?

Not just standing,
stand for what?
"Gee, I'd sure like to,
but I just... but..."

Sit down.
Be quiet.
And realize.
Our raucous friends
are the devil's guys.

Narrow pathway:
one by one.
The lonely thread
to the Bodhi Sun.

Wide and easy.
Cool and breezy.
"Gee, I'd sure like to,
but the world, it needs me!"

Needs me for what?
Fertilizer maybe.
Six feet under
and vibrant daisies.

Vibrant, that is,
'til they wither, decay.
My way.
By way.
Pass away.

As long as it's proper,
just go ahead.
To smell the roses
is the demon's bed.
It's better to go hungry
than overfed.
And if I see the Buddha,
I'll shoot him dead.