- Books, Literature, and Writing
Drops Of Dharma Returns!
The Great Dance
From the heart of the night it comes ...
it waits, tooth ragged and blood tainted breath;
dreams the dream of broken bones
and slaughtered hopes.
No future visions ... no memories of any past ...
just intent flavored with sulphur and tears -
camoflaged with wailing screams disguised
as brutal logic and reason.
Dreaming of a diaphanous now not yet arrived,
it moves with shadowed silence ...
a darkness thick and velvetine that caresses
and soothes like a lover,
all the while hiding the sharpened steel.
These night thoughts fill me to bursting -
set the teeth on edge in apprehension
and the thoughts of you that had at one time
banished this sort of thinking ...
now you evade my grasp, and once more I am lost.
From the heart of the night it comes ...
and it skips and dances its way
across the bone littered landscape of my soul,
music constructed from broken promises;
and without a single regret,
I join in the Great dance.
Two Thirds of Me
Sunrises and sunsets lie broken and devastated -
shattered like immense stained glass windows
glittering at my feet like diamonds and rubies ...
the soul wrenching song of winds driven
through twisted branch and razor edged
stones steles brings tears to my eyes -
or maybe it's really the thoughts of you?
Two Thirds of me is all that there is left now;
the me obsessed with tightly clinging
to a distant past swimming in the Ocean of Memory ...
the me slowly growing sick from poisons
found in the future we build on sand ...
The me that should be delighting in this Now
is mist before the onslaught of the sun -
burned away to nothing ... and even less.
The me I had come to know with such certainty
has been brutalized into submission by want -
crippled and forbidden to soar aloft
by chains of fear and regret ...
broken like a pane of tear spattered glass -
the sound of your name but a sigh of pain
so vivid and undeniable that time itself weeps
and nothing is left to hold on to ...
I left it all behind so very long ago and so far away
that I can't even recall the pain I felt
except when I go to turn inside of myself.
then, free will takes flight and runs before
reason ... leaving me to face my fears alone.\
I want to scream out in frustrated defiance,
but the world within that I've built
is a machine of apathy that crushes
ideologies underfoot like some lumbering beast.
so there's not much of a point being made.
Did I lose it ... whatever it is?
Did you steal it from me under the guise
of giving a damn?
I gaze off into the distance a lifetime away ...
and someone else calls out to me,
asking curiously where I've gone to.
How do I tell this story after all?
This is no dream to be sharing, you see.
It's a bloody war of emotions within me,
that claims my very soul as it's spoil.
I'll get it back in order ... I always do ...
just be patient with me for a bit,
I'll be back to love you when it's safe ...
and my sanity is firmly bolted to the floor.
Moving far too fast, I have lost this thing called by some "self"
in a swirl of misguided intent and blurred inner vision -
intent on where this step goes -
where that step leads ...
and conveniently forgetting this self that lingers on
in the realm of things that have passed ...
keeping this life still is like nothing easy to do ...
tired at grasping at ghosts and splinters
of broken memory that glisten and sparkle
like the hard hearted shine of hatred
hidden in a smile.
Crouched down close to the ground like a tracker ...
looking for traces of self ...
not the least bit surprised at failure!
Oh what have I lost!
Temporary ... impermanent ... transitory ...
Now that's a Trinity some might choose
to cling to !
No need for stealth any longer ... what's missing
but a rather odd collection of not-things
and I'm afraid it knows where I live.
The Thread Of Laughter
Another crumbling dreamscape looks ahead of me -
a shattered legacy of ruined design and planning ...
and the softly whispering winds come;
Dark secrets and secret darkness' along for the ride,
but I never falter ... never hesitate.
I move along with it all, through the light ...
through the darkness ... and everything that lies in between -
and keep the secrets of dreaming ...
especially the not so secret ones!
I wander a world built of memory and dream -
of everything I've ever held close ...
and everything I've pushed away in fear;
now reliving agonizing decisions over and over again,
like some horrid home movie ...
but through it all runs a silvered thread
of laughter ... sometimes like gossamer ...
sometimes like viciously barbed wire,
but always there ... always!
Everything I encounter in every world now
is judged and measured against this thread
of laughter, caressed by a lover's touch;
or tooth ravaged like some helpless pack animal,
but always and eternally changed by it.
Just a Dream
I dreamt a shattered, broken sort of dream once ...
shattered into shards of deadhope and turmoil -
ripped apart by claws of obsidian, glassy fear
and I was rather happy to find myself there ...
happy to be anywhere for that matter.
I stood in the midst of the broken dreamings,
cooled and soothed by icey winds of despair ...
then burned and tormented by the knowing
that this seemingly real time was mere idea.
So I took up a sword forged by the sangha ...
and a shield from ignorance called the dharma ...
and woke up from the dreaming for an instant
just long enough to become a buddha.
The Dreaming was actually nothing at all ...
just the stinging of bitter smoke
from the forge called ego.
Now it's all been dropped away ...
so now the taste of a clear, cold stream
is all that matters when I'm thirsty.