Our Mother

Left naked and scarred
Bleeding into the open sky
Cold winds from her bones
Peeling off the remaining flesh
Raped by her own children
She orbits still

Queen

Queen
To be licked
Tasted
For she is
Down the comb
Laying in the spiral
Cells filling
To continuously be
In the arising and passing
Of the natural
Breath of Universe

Judging the moment

Sun's eyelashes
Caressing the horizon
Falling tears
Soaking the earth
Warm breath
Painting the mist
The sunlight is dying
To be lit inside

The reality of illusion

Like the light
Of a dead star
Nature had died
Long before
It met the eye.

Falling Bird

Just a rainy day
In the eyes
Of a falling bird
To be held
Within the heart
Of an Elemental

Poem of a Dying Bee

Don't cry for me human!
Out of wrong view
Your tears flow now.

Feeling sorrow
For one dying bee
Yet mourning you are not
Your own dying cells.

Vibrating within each cell
The honey bee colony is
As in your body
Cells die all the time.

With each dying cell
A new bee is born.
Continuation of the Universe.

11 Wolves

11 wolves had passed their way
The human way
To their dismay

In the deep of the woods
They are ought to stay
Far away
To hunt their pray

Wolves and Men will never share
The natures gold
The bloody pray

Now too close the pack moves in
Too close to their homes
Against men's will

Nervous fingers pull the triggers
Warm blood flowing
The wolves lay still.

(this poem was inspired by the news we heard today at school. One hunter saw 11 wolves passing very close to our school. They usually stay far away from this village. Humans dont like wolves too close to their homes. This never ends good for the wolf pack)

Searching I am

Searching for myself
I am
Times and times again
I am
Plunging into the mind so deep
I am
Finding nothing but no self
I am
In the cascades of passing phenomena
I am
Until finding myself
I am
In the pupil of your eye
I am

Vision

Through the mist
On the eyelids
Of a sleepy mind
Sculpting a vision
In a sun light
Covered with morning dew
The Spider web is.

Summer Snow

This summer smells of snow
Through the nostrils
The fleet of clouds
Across the canvas
Moving as the wind blows.

A slap of cold breez
On one cheek
Humid warmth
On the other.

The night is falling dark
A Bat against the last daylight
A fox is hunting for Geese
Anticipation in the throat.
Key locking the door.

The Shadow of Us

In the sunset

Of good bye

The day waves

Leaving the shadow

Of us behind.

WTF

Down the throat
Handful of nails
To swollow
The final breath

In the instant
Clenching fist
Blowing wind
From the South

Flying Moon
In slow motion
Accross the sky
In beholders eye

Bitter taste
Tongue is stuck
In the arising
On the leaf

Words of selfing
Made of dust
Flowing in space
Nobodys there

Bud-dho Bud-dho

Bud-dho Bud-dho
Back and forth
The handsaw flows

Bud-dho Bud-dho
The sacred sound
Chants the saw

Bud-dho Bud-dho
In and out
The breath blows

Bud-dho Bud-dho
Push and pull
The body dances

Bud-dho Bud-dho
This sweaty moment
Arises from mind

Blossom

Through the eye door
Into the field
Of consciousness
Assorted by
The conditioned mind
Feeling tone follows
Like vs Dislike
One is the winner
Happiness or Sorrow
Blossoms.

Refuge

The Body
Is the temple
For the Awareness
To Return to
On the Wings
Made of Breath

Nowness

The being in flesh & blood
Bathing in the rays of sunlight
Bird's song ecchoing in the mind
Eyes meeting that whats born
Feet dancing just above the ground
Words fail to describe that which is now

In and Out of the Window

Staring eye
Looking at
The passing blink
Born into
A new sight

From within
The border line
Growing slightly
Into a cascade
Of shiney rays

Who is looking
From without
Into the eye
Is it the sun
Or the bright moon?

In and Out
Of the window
Looking continues
Arising and passing
Yet nobody is home

Phenomena In Flux

There is no you and I

but only breath-taking

phenomena in constant flux.
...

...

There is a sound

then a vision

frequency interrupted

by the Impermanent flow
paradox in slow motion.

The Jumping Magpie

On the top of the tree
A Magpie bird
is jumping
from one branch
to another.

The very same Magpie
is also jumping
in my mind
from one branch
to another.

Sailing the waters of Samsara

The whole Universe
Both Heaven & Hell
Ruled by the Karmic Wheel
Of becoming & dying.

The whole of Creation
Up and down
And all around
Is within the grasp of Anicca.

What is created
Is subject to rot
To disintergration
To dependent origination.

Whispering "there is a Self"
Or "there is Non-self"
Whispering "there is a Soul"
Or "there is No Soul"
Still echoes so Loudly
Because the Truth
Is far too subtle
To Be.

It seems overwhelming
The idea of liberation is
For such a tiny being
Sailing alone this vast
Ocean of Samsara
On the Dhammic raft.

Wake Up Urban Human

Life is passing you by
Urban Human
With each
Spring
Summer
Fall
and
Winter
While staring at your watch.

Passing by the life is
Do you hear Urban Human
While imprisoned
In between the walls
You are deaf
To the song of a Nightingale.

Feet walking on asphalt
Instead of green grass
Covered with morning dew
Hey Urban Human
Looking at the life
Through TV screen
Killing time
For the sake of boredom.

Life is passing away
Urban Human
With each breath you take
Not Silver nor Gold
Nor tick castle walls
Can stop the Death
From taking away
What Impermanent is.

Hey Urban Human
Living a fancy life
Life behind masks
And fake smiles
Behind suits and ties
Behind colorful makeups
Behind titles so sweet
Wasting a precious life
Of a Human kind.

Wake up Urban Human
Before death takes you away
Wake up!
Stop running away from your true nature
By placing continuously concrete and tarmac
On top of the very soil which feeds us all.

Phenomena

In the wave-like fashion
Oscillating
Between the realms
Of Devas and Hell-beings
Dhammas solidify
Into formations
Bound to pass away
Into re-birth.
So many waves
Make an Ocean.

The Human "I"

The sense of "I"
Is no more
A handful of sand
In the human eye.

Stream Entry

Rejoicing tears falling
Down the cheek
Gliding into
A cascade of sensations
Arising like shooting stars
Just to burn out into nothingness
Giving space to a newly born one.

The Doubt so clenching
With steal like coldness
Dissipates by Faith
Into a star-lit sky
Oh, how beautiful it is
To open the ears & eyes at last
Hearing the Dhamma
From his mouth
Seeing the Sangha
In his eyes.

The separate self
First cold than hot
First hot than cold
In constant conflict
Falls down on knees
In the realm of Hell
In humbling defeat
The Buddha is near.

Awake, awake
The doorkeeper dwells
Setting the lit eye
On the six doors
Guarding 'em safely
From the invading
Army of Mara's
The liberation is near.

The Dhammic Song of The Buddhas

Such joy is pervading each cell in this body,
each trace of restlessness and doubt
is dispersed by simply reading
Buddha's words in the Suttas.

I had no ears and no eyes to hear
nor see His Dhamma
yet
something happened and the same words
suddenly
sound so familiar as if I'v heard them before.

I used to search erratically for answers
in all the wrong directions
until I exhausted them all,
just to find all of the answers
in one go when I fell down in defeat.
How humbling and beautiful.

He speaks with such harmony
elevating the sense of well being,
gladness and goodwill.

I woke up this morning
traces of restlessness
kneeled down in Seiza
opening the pages
releasing the songs of
All The Buddhas
blowing away with ease
the seemingly impenetrable
wall of restlessness and doubt.

Up the river,
on and on,
The Practice carries on,
on the Dhammic raft.