Dissatisfied
Always dissatisfied with what one has,
The power of nothingness
Engulfs
Whatever you also engulf
Or take as a possession,
What comes into you
Goes out of you and everything
Goes in there only to
Go out later,
There is nothing you can hold,
It is simply meant that way,
The flow
Life, birth, life, death, rebirth,
And then back to Nothingness
Unless you believe
In something Else
To cling to
Like a moss to an old stone
Albeit,
The stone rolls just the same
In an ancient flowing river
Then while here
We do not really know
What happens
There are many stories
That the bird outside us
Cannot yet sing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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128
Always dissatisfied with what one has,
The power of nothingness
Engulfs
Whatever you also engulf
Or take as a possession,
What comes into you
Goes out of you and everything
Goes in there only to
Go out later,
There is nothing you can hold,
It is simply meant that way,
The flow
Life, birth, life, death, rebirth,
And then back to Nothingness
Unless you believe
In something Else
To cling to
Like a moss to an old stone
Albeit,
The stone rolls just the same
In an ancient flowing river
Then while here
We do not really know
What happens
There are many stories
That the bird outside us
Cannot yet sing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Gather Moss And More Of Moss
to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time
you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone
to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be
then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river
then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river
and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost
and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running
where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss
you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The moss that loves the stone
It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Come to poet
Come to poet
And listen poem
In poem find life
Life detach.
Detachment only truth
Truth is nothingness
Nothingness is nothingness
Only nothingness is true.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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I Am That Glorious Nothing, In Everyone and Everything!
It is dawn for me,
dawn of a life,
at dusk of my life,
Neither its a new life
nor its the old one,
When everything is destiny and fate,
Why I have to wish and will,
If Gods gave me something,
That took back with interest,
God is lovable lender of pressure
as well as pleasure,
Takes more than gave
and one's pain and loses of freedom
are the compound interest paid!
Prayer with desires and ambitions,
Succeeded only to make me prey to more desires!
Every heart is full of love,
And that it filled with Life's love,
And it make one
love the life!
Life's own turns,
Depends on the path destined,
Radius of the path make all difference!
Sometimes it flows like a river, dives deep,
Or has more depth, where it flow slow,
Sometimes fast where depth is low!
Life is a like river for the one who destined to flow down to ocean,
But life is not river to one has seen ocean everywhere,
Life doesn't flow,
Only it is flow of energy from higher potential to lower potential,
From youth to old age,
From freedom to bondage of senses and deeds!
Think Ramdas, Think of that great Truth,
Where there is one neither born nor die,
Only dream and sigh!
From that nothingness,
Nothing I brought,
To that nothingness I can't take anything,
Whatever looks like this thing, that thing,
Everything is nothing
for this nothing, neither came nor go,
I am neither a glacier to melt and flow,
nor I am rock to stay here!
I must go before I want to know myself,
I want to die in my ownself,
Before I can live unto my own
nature!
I never want win anything,
As my win is not my win,
And I have neither one to win,
Nor something to win,
As I amthat everything in nothing
And that glorious nothing among everyone and everything!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Bathing
Bathing in a river is a fun
The flowing waters clash with your muscles
and runs past you
It fails to carry you off
where Proserpine surrounded by sea nymphs
holds her court
But dip into the waters once
And for a few seconds you foget yoursel; f
You can feel at that time the waves of nothingness
taking possession of
Think and you are amidst fire
Think and you are amidst surging sounds
It is sheer sensation and thoughtlessness
The reality then pricks you penetrates into you
pours into you waters of nothingness and life
They give you some prescience of the world
which Proserpine rules
Once you pop up from the waves you are baptised
Because you dipped in the well of light
Water and fire, light and wind, sound and silence
They remain different and yet they come to you
as if they are not different from one another
And bathin g is a great fun
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Our property
Nothing is our property
Nothingness is our valuable property
And we are all free
Nobody is there to force us
For anything.
No shape no size
No dark no light
No birth no death
No rise no set
Nothingness is everywhere.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Life And Death On The Stone In The Pond
on that rainy month
a stone was so kind
enough
to let the green moss
wrap its
solid body
there was
mutual bliss in
their
company
then the drought
comes in months
the river where the stone
lives
dried and
mud turned to
cracked
surfaces
the moss knows
that this happens
every year
dies peacefully
around the solid body
of the stone
like sleep waiting
for the next rain
the stone is
undisturbed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Great Someone
leave me not on the hope of believing the
genuine heart of waiting sober the stone
of doubt, where the flaming stone of
passion, engulf the capture soul for eternal
rendition
oh! great wisdom you’ve take, may the
spirit adoration of face come the iniquity
of surrender shower the wonder of your
beauty and let the lasting glory of
cascading gesture blend its eternal destiny
of dark night path walk
come dine with me on the table of forever
pure and breath the idyllic harmony of joy;
for each beginning thirst; waits a great
somewhere, who listen beyond every
breathe of an endless voice
alas! a great someone in the great
somewhere leave not my life for
nothingness, the doom of precious blood
had save the joy of life reborn the heaven
of eternal life
poem by Antonio Liao
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I complain of my own nothingness
I COMPLAIN OF MY OWN NOTHINGNESS
I complain of my own nothingness
And I ask God for Help.
Am I a hypocrite or just a fool?
Or perhaps more kindly put
A person of the eternal human contradictions?
I complain of my own nothingness
And ask God for Help.
God Who has given me so much,
Why did You also have to give me
My sense of my own nothingness, also?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Caution From The Man Who Taught Evolution
he says that any creature which does not use a part of its body
soon will lose it.It is the use that makes it exist.
Thus, when a fish gets off the water because it likes to fly,
it becomes a bird in due time,
Thus, when that bird peroccupies itself with swimming
ultimately becomes the sting-ray.
Thus the moss on the stone which wants to roll
with the stone becomes the worms of earth.
Time makes them what they want to become.
Thus the jellyfish that crawls to the ground becomes
another blob. And so on and so forth.
It also happens to us humans.
When we start to be complacent and not use our minds to think,
we become brainless.We shrink into stone where the rivers
pass by us unrespecting of our dignities, where those who
walk upon us, simply consider as us nothing but foot stools.
We may think of the divine. Let us see what happens next.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Thoughts To Ponder: Vii
born of nothingness
unto nothingness
do we return
what's it that happens
in between?
a fading dream
of desire and tempataion
of anger and avarice
of pride and prestige
of fame and power
of vengeance and malice...
doesn't life keep unfloding
the way it has to
to which you and the stars
remain the only witnesses
15nov2009
18.44hra
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Einstein, Nicholas, My Fantastic Wife And Our Dog On The Beach At Home
a stone
a relative stone
a meteoric stone
a Newtonian stone
a photoelectric stone
a stone from Manhattan
a thermodynamic stone
one stone
a son
in my life
in my wife
a sun
alone
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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What gives Buddha the eternal bliss
was it the last temptation
for him to give up?
that nirvana is nothingness, nothingness
absolute nothingness
and to get there you even have
to give up the desire for it
oh thank God buddha he passes
he plods on even when absolute
nothingness is the reward
what the devil fails puts buddha
in an eternal bliss
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The New Religion Of 'Nothingness
THE NEW RELIGION OF ‘NOTHINGNESS'
The new Religion of Nothingness
Hates God
And aims at Faith's Destruction-
The new Religion of Nothingness
Celebrates accident and incident
Idolizes the Purposelessness and Meaninglessness
Of it all-
And consoles us with speculations
That our universe may be a multiverse
Which too did not have to be created to exist.
The new Religion of Nothingness
Feigns Proof for its main contention
And gives Humanity no Hope
But only Nothing and more Nothing
As Beginning and End of all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Out Of a Nothingness
Encouraged by a discouragement...
Seems to be the steps flights begin to take.
Like the discovery of a nothingness,
A non-entity ignored...
Sitting unexplored!
Until,
The realization that 'something' within it exists.
And a beginning one makes of it...
To create the break that forms its shape,
Taking place.
When one is told they are nothing...
Something 'clicks' within the mind.
And with that acknowledgement of a nothingness...
One embraces this to mold, shape and define!
Revealing a something out of a nothingness,
Where all of what 'is'...
Gets an assigned documented time of its find!
Showing a wealth of what is yet to be uncovered...
When possibilities like the life one knows,
Is given breath to breathe and eyes to probe...
A potential from a nothingness claimed,
To be named, linked and chained...
To all which had been suspended in space,
Before it too was exposed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stone
The days have passed, nights are gone,
I'm still in love with a stone,
The seasons changed, the clay too came,
I still hold it with no moan,
The clay comes to me in so many shapes,
Wants me to hold it, whatever it may take,
But clay can hurt me, clay may fake,
Even if it's clay, I have a heart it can break,
The season may change,
The clay may go,
Slowing my heart beat,
All time low,
Stone is hard,
Stone is black,
Stone is emotionless,
Doesn't stab at back,
The clay, the stone, both make me die,
But if a stone does, even the clay may cry...
and I'll never ask why...
It's better to live with a stone,
not clay,
Clay is soft, but it hurts,
which is not the stone's way.....
poem by Apurva Jain
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Squirrel my little friend!
I watch your jumps from tree to tree
with that bushy tail
And your song I try to understand
If I write this way
Is it okay?
Man raises his bony hands and questions
from the dumb sky of his future?
Sky's helpless as she cannot stop the clouds
that wander here & there?
Man tries to hide his wealth in the river
But river flows to the sea ever?
Man sketches his sky scrapers
But nobody stays here and his offspring
fly everywhere when they grown up
Leaving the old sick parents there?
a humble dedication to my poet friend Narain j.p!
A Buddhist faces death not as a crisis in life but as a normal event, for he knows that whoever is born must suffer, 'decay', and ultimately die. Or, as someone so aptly puts it, 'Everyone is born with the certificate of death at his birth.' If we could all look at death such an intelligent and rational way, we would not cling to life so tenaciously.
'Ayamantima jatinatthidani punabbhavo'
This is my final birth and there is no more rebirth for me.
(Dhamma Cakka Sutta) . -The Buddha
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Stone
how is it to be a stone?
how is it to be hard
and unfeeling?
how is it to be still
and immobile
rooted in
its place for years
and centuries
not growing
not speaking not listening
to the songs and sighs
of the river?
how is it to be completely
defenseless against
the moss
that invades and
covers
your body
of stone
the coldness
of the rain and
the boredom of the time
in years, in centuries?
how is it to be just being
inanimate
unmoved
untouched and
untouching?
you
you touch no one and nobody touches you
an island
of stone
you
are the stone
the rock
against
the middle
of the raging river
and i am asking all these questions to you.
oh! i am always the foolish one
petrified
facing you all day and getting
no answers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Only after conquering desires
Only after conquering desires
You can declare nothing is world
And the world is nothing
And nothingness means
Nothingness is woman to ascetic
Nothingness is life to warrior
And with truth I do not want
To go to heaven
Only after conquering desires
Only after conquering desires.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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