Monday, January 13, 2014

Bodhi Trails

No ID?

Art* Sara Johnsen
Yer so called face
                Is forever reflected & mirrored
Almost deflected
In all the faces you've seen
And still see
Every time you see a face
You really are seeing yer own face
Facing back at ya
Shadowing or lighting all yer being
From frowning furrows to burrowing brows
Sneers & jeers
Laughter & fears
Smiles & tears
Grins & wrinkles
Forming laugh lines to lifelines
Facing back at ya
Defacing all yer ticks
Exposing all yer tricks
Experiencing lines such as: we're fucking everything with one; we're one fucking everything
Either insult will do
As compliments
And complements
To all our facial exposes


When you can have rainbows
Why be bothered at all
By pots of gold

Such a Monarch:

I awoke in crystal clear dreams of my king
Tho' I’m always the grateful subject
For the briefest moment I did feel like a prince
Now back being a grateful subject
Out of choice
And the manifestation of his actions
Too numerous to word
But felt heartily


I see all these snow
And know
Wherever I am I am with the mountains y'know...

The Tree of Life:

Underneath the Bodhi tree
I sat & saw a Peepal tree
And an ant on a walkabout
Pilgrims in Kora
The ant in distress
As several feet thundered above the hapless ant
Near deaths
When the moment came
It did like a jolt
He was partially injured
A broken or a fractured leg perhaps
Maybe a sprained hand
Injured by a foot gone astray
Now limping & scurrying about hurriedly
His karma ripens
As another foot squashes him flat on the stone slab
And yet another sticks him to foot-soles & carries him about
Just in front of the Vajra throne
Underneath the Peepal tree
Underneath the Bodhi tree
Stark teachings come alive-
Old age
In a matter of moments
The ant lived & died
I rested
Assured- somehow in reverence to the brutal & the compassionate facts
And serene severity of life
As in the teachings
So in life
And as such
We must accept
Knowing the dharma is the karma
And vice-versa
In this fleeting blinking life
We’re all ants
Scurrying about
A foot squashes us & we are both done
And undone

Perhaps we birth again
As yer unknown incarnates
To fulfill in-completions
Untie karmic knots
Meeting here again
In this spot of the universe
Shouldn’t this be a reminder?
Of the remembrances & the meaning of the un-worded feeling?
Pardon me for asking such questions-
But ask one must
To find out there're no answers to give
Nor questions to keep

In an Indian Train:

The carriage in this train carries marriages, engagements, affairs, conversations, queries, quid pro quos
Maintaining the status quo
When we disembark
And thus divorced
We go forth to find all of the above
Including poems
From random poets
& verses from lyrical traveling companions

An Indian Plain:

Just as Dry River beds reminds me of the coming wet monsoons
Brown fallow fields reminds me of green pastures
And harvests of plenty
In equal measures
Of its poverty
And that infinite dance of the twain
Proving one
Dismissing yer another
Meaning nothing
And everything
In a flash
And a puff!
It does
It’s done
It’s dusted!


In this train
As long as the journey lasts
We’re all in it together
Irrespective of destinations
However temporal or final

Coach On:

Passing landscapes
Through barred-window passages
Providing one with mental escapes
And physical reverberations


Consumed with righteousness
Things do turn left & go
-where felt bitterness turns sweet upon recognition
& realization of such absurdities!

                                                             Sitting Facing The Vajrasana:

To my limited sight
It makes perfect sense
That the Noble Shakyamuni
Of all the places & spaces
Would choose one such as Bihar
For his spot of unsurpassed knowingness
Surrounded as it is by everything he was bothered by & eventually overcame
And the way into it
From the path out of it
Now as one sits & ponders under that self-same seed that begot this Peepal Tree-
That became the Bodhi
You wonder- what would the Buddha do?
Asking no one really
Trying to emulate
And since the boat isn't the shore
And vice-versa
Its gotta be ripe karma
Without merits
Or demerits
And do as you would
Reminding yourself as He would
In-imitation (^)

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

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