|  gregoryo | Nov 6, 2006 11:43pm | | transcribing book soon ;) |
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Sponsor |  Perko | Nov 16, 2006 1:49am | | ! Transcribing for what? online use!?!? |
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Sponsor | | buddhalover | Nov 16, 2006 2:19am | WHO SAYS WORDS WITH MY MOUTH?
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around t that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I am going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside of the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all. |
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| | gregoryo | Nov 16, 2006 5:57am | We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups.
That's fine with us. Every morning
we glow and in the evening we glow.
They say there is no future for us. They're right.
Which is fine with us. |
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Sponsor | | buddhalover | Nov 16, 2006 6:06am | A COMMUNITY OF THE SPIRIT
There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street,
and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.
Open your hands,
if you want to be held.
Sit down in this circle.
Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
the shepherd's love filling you.
At night, your beloved wanders.
Don't accept consolations.
Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover's mouth in yours.
You moan, "She left me." "He left me."
Twenty more will come.
Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thought!
Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being. |
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| | gregoryo | Nov 16, 2006 6:13am | There's a strange frenzy in my head,
of birds flying,
each particle circulating on its own.
Is the one I love everywhere? |
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Sponsor | | buddhalover | Nov 16, 2006 6:15am | Drunks fear the police.
but the police are drunk too.
People in this town love them both
like different chess pieces. |
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| | gregoryo | Nov 16, 2006 6:37am | A CHILDREN'S GAME
Listen to the poet Sanai,
who lived secluded: "Don't wander out on the road
in your ecstasy. Sleep in the tavern."
When a drunk strays out to the street,
children make fun of him.
He falls down in the mud.
He takes any and every road.
The children follow,
not knowing the taste of wine, or how
his drunkenness feels. All people on the planet
are children, except for a very few.
No one is grown up exept those free of desire.
God said,
"The world is a play, a children's game,
and you are the children."
God speaks the truth.
If you haven't left the child's play,
how can you be an adult?
Without purity of spirit,
if you're still in the middle of lust and greed
and other wantings, your like children
playing at sexual intercourse.
They wrestle
and rub together, but it's not sex!
The same with the fightings of mankind.
It's a squabble with play-swords.
No purpose, totally futile.
Like kids on hobby horses, soldiers claim to be riding
Boraq, Muhammad's night-horse, or Duldul, his mule.
Your actions mean nothing, the sex and the war that you do.
You're holding part of your pants and prancing around,
Dun-da-dun, dun-da-dun
Don't wait till you die to see this.
Recognize that your imagination and your thinking
and your sense perception are reed canes
that children cut and pretend are horsies.
The knowing of mystic lovers is different.
The empirical, sensory, sciences
are like a donkey loaded with books,
or like the makeup woman's makeup
It washes off.
But if you lift the baggage rightly, it will give joy.
Don't carry your knowledge-load for some selfish reason.
Deny your desires and willfulness,
and a real mount may appear under you.
Don't be satisfied with the name of HU,
with just words about it.
Experience that breathing.
From books and words come fantasy,
and sometimes, from fantasy comes union. |
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Sponsor | | buddhalover | Dec 21, 2006 6:56am | Gone, inner and outer,
no moon, no ground or sky.
Don't hand me another glass of wine.
Pour it in my mouth.
I've lost the way to my mouth. |
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| | gregoryo | Dec 21, 2006 7:13am | The wine we drink is our own blood.
Our bodies ferment in these barrels.
We give everything for a glass of this.
We give our minds for a sip. |
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