Buddha

knowledge, emancipation and sporadic blabber

I cry therefore I am.

That muffled voice in my head

calls me swastika

and I curse it.

I die therefore I will be.

 

 

 

I know,

 

I was ten when they buried me.

 

 

 

 

 

I am not the humble God of humanity

feeding millions

while the man in me

remains hungry,

starved of life’s delicacies.

I waste away

therefore I dream,

mostly nightmares.

 

 

 

 

 

My chains are not yet lost,

dangling by me

in the open daylight

when you stumble on my path

asking for alms.

I display my toothless smile

because

I eternally remain

the timeless beggar

at the service of humility.

 

 

 

 

 

My sarcophagus sense and sensibilities

In my ability to forgive godliness

nailed the last tiny shining pin

on the pin cushion

so that I remain locked

in your coffin,

forever

only to be used again

later

in the deathless void,

in fathomless deep.

 

 

 

 

 

I am my daughter now.

I am my sister I played with

Or my mother

who gave birth

to my lunacies

along with me

on a winter’s night.

My winter’s tale did not warm me.

I sought your fire.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a voice in me,

a silent scream,

a desperation to stifle a cry,

a voice cradled to sleep

In many hush a bye babies on treetops–

With a glass of wine

to quench its thirst

And a loaf of bread

satiating its hunger

Of starved times.

 

 

 

 

So excuse me while I grind life’s glasses

to powder

And burn woods

and bleed skins.

 

Child, you may go and sleep now.

Arise and awake

when I have licked clean the mess.

 

It’s going to be a beautiful world tomorrow.

Reviews

[Travis Lawrence]

Like this a lot. The struggle it presents with an ending of a positive outlook. I really do hope this world will be beautiful tomorrow...

Thank you for writing this.