Zen
and then he
asked about all these things:
must you
have heard about the
ten deaf
dwarfs of
the islands of Acidophiles?
the sound of one hand
clapping on the
hills of
Pedophilisimones?
in his innocence he
prostrates himself upon the ground
and listens
to the ears of the earth
the hands of some roots
buried underneath
it is Zen
and the doZen
and the
froZen moments of
ZenO
He shakes his head
rising up and that is what happens
when he finally gets
his much deserved
Zero, the illegitimate brother
of Zorro.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
I've been thinking about that old Zen conundrum what's the sound of one hand clapping My personal opinion--nothing. You don't have two hands, you don't have any clapping. It's as simple as that. Stars, galaxies, clapping hands, what's the point The point is that we all need somebody, whether you're a supercluster or a little proton, a yin or a yang. Everybody is hooked into everybody else.
quote by Geoffrey Neighor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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African Woman
She was born in the hands of a bloom fragrance
She was cuddled in the realm of pure innocence
She wore a clean culture root
She swelled a decent design youth
She had a black thick Rainy jungle on her head
They described her strength for earning bread
She had a hip that tells the handiwork of boundless powers
Her chick glitter like a dozen of silver flowers
She walk like a cat tripping herself
She sit gently like a king whose sense are deaf
Her legs are like bronze mould with ultimate perfection
Her face is like rocket fastly rising doubtless impression
Her words are like milk digested through the ears
Her smile is like a chilled wind rising curious hairs
She is an african woman rubies in every village
Her beauty is a gem circling in their heritage
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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What innocence, may I ask, is being played here when it is known that this virtuous damsel has already got a dozen illegitimate children?
quote by Nikita Khrushchev
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Evening Mr. Waldheim
Good evening mr.waldheim
And pontiff how are you?
You have so much in common
In the things you do
And here comes jesse jackson
He talks of common ground
Does that common ground include me
Or is it just a sound
A sound that shakes
Oh jesse, you must watch the sounds you make
A sound that quakes
There are fears that still reverberate
Jesse you say common ground
Does that include the plo?
What about people right here right now
Who fought for you not so long ago?
The words that flow so freely
Falling dancing from your lips
I hope that you dont cheapen them
With a racist slip
Oh common ground
Is common ground a word or just a sound
Common ground
Remember those civil rights workers buried in the ground
If I ran for president
And once was a member of the klan
Wouldnt you call me on it
The way I call you on farrakhan
And pontiff, pretty pontiff
Can anyone shake your hand ?
Or is it just that you like uniforms
And someone kissing your hand
Or is it true
The common ground for me includes you too
Oh, oh, is it true
The common ground for me includes you too
Good evening mr.waldheim
Pontiff how are you
As you both stroll through the woods at night
Im thinking thoughts of you
And jesse youre inside my thoughts
As the rhythmic words subside
My common ground invites you in
Or do you prefer to wait outside
Or is it true
The common ground for me is without you
Or is it true
The common ground for me is without you
Oh is it true
Theres no ground common enough for me and you
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be Alive
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
Not a lot is missing
Every ounce of treasure found
And i believe that everyone should get what
They're allowed
Suspected of belief that comes suspended
In a sound
And everybody wants some
It's the sound they make in heaven
It's a sound for here on earth
I've heard it in the whispering
Of the wonders that we search
We've waited far too long
To hear the healing of the stars
'n' everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
To feel alive
Oh - does it get much better than this
Oh - does it get much better, much better
Oh - does it get much better than this, than this
There's the sound that keeps you trying
There's the sound that makes you smile
There's a sound in every corner
Of the world that we survive
Your temple is the harmony
You feel the sacred ground
Just wishing for the secret
To appear within the sound
Watching for the morning star
The rhythm of the sun
I hear it in my waking dreams
The singing has begun
The passion that we walk upon
The passion that we bring
Is written for the mountains
They love to hear us sing
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
To feel alive
Oh - doesn't get much better than this
Oh - doesn't get much better than this, than this
Who made me make believe
I'm alive i'm living
Never underestimate
The signals coming to you
Oh
The sounding of the earth
It shakes you, yes it shakes you
Oh
The sounding of the earth
It shakes you, let it shake you
Hep yadda
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be Alive
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
Not a lot is missing
Every ounce of treasure found
And i believe that everyone should get what
They're allowed
Suspected of belief that comes suspended
In a sound
And everybody wants some
It's the sound they make in heaven
It's a sound for here on earth
I've heard it in the whispering
Of the wonders that we search
We've waited far too long
To hear the healing of the stars
'n' everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
To feel alive
Oh - does it get much better than this
Oh - does it get much better, much better
Oh - does it get much better than this, than this
There's the sound that keeps you trying
There's the sound that makes you smile
There's a sound in every corner
Of the world that we survive
Your temple is the harmony
You feel the sacred ground
Just wishing for the secret
To appear within the sound
Watching for the morning star
The rhythm of the sun
I hear it in my waking dreams
The singing has begun
The passion that we walk upon
The passion that we bring
Is written for the mountains
They love to hear us sing
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
Everybody wants some
To feel alive
Oh - doesn't get much better than this
Oh - doesn't get much better than this, than this
Who made me make believe
I'm alive i'm living
Never underestimate
The signals coming to you
Oh
The sounding of the earth
It shakes you, yes it shakes you
Oh
The sounding of the earth
It shakes you, let it shake you
Hep yadda
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Loneliness Of The Untiring Writer
with equanimity i write for this audience,
deaf,
blind,
mute,
....imagine some monkeys and rats, and worms and squirrels
mute, blind, deaf,
i have no regret at all,
their hearts are bigger than the islands of paradise,
the mute claps with three hundred hands,
the blind sings with all the angelic voices in tens of hundreds
the deaf dances like some kind of a wiggling worm
vitally replicating its numbers geometrically
there is still this
wanting to be caught by a hungry
black bird
it is the silence of the mute that speaks so loudly
like a speaker of the house,
it is the restlessness of the deaf that shakes me,
and i tremble like a cymbal clanging ceaselessly
the chants of the blind, mystifies me,
scented cinders, lighted candles, fireflies on the trees
conclusion: we have become one happy family
and tonight, i will be writing some more for them
I've got no other valuable audience anyway.
and, let me finally add,
it is only my dead mother who still loves me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mother Earth And Sons
the child insistent
shakes the tree and so
the fruits fall on the ground
some not ripe though
and he does not
eat it
what a waste
but mother never says
a word
the child grows
spoiled as mother is
tolerant
the man remains a
child and mothers get old
he shakes the world
mother earth now
as silent as mothers are
the earth shakes
and all the children are buried
under the cracks
the fire within
like hell burns
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Little Brother
O brother, brother, come down to the crags by the bay,
Come down to the caves where I play;
For oh! I saw on the rocks, asleep,
A fair mermaid, and the slow waves creep
To bear her away, away.
O brother, brother, come quick, till you laugh with me,
For no mermaid so fair is she,
But the little lass that I saw last night,
(I hid in the shade, you stood in the light),
And she weeping most bitterly.
O brother, brother, I watched her the live-long day,
Saw her hair grow jewelled with spray;
Once her cheek was brushed by a gull's wet wing,
And a finch flew down on her hand to sing,
And was not afraid to stay.
O brother, brother, will she soon awakened be?
I would she might laugh now with me.
She sleeps, and the world so full of sound—
She's so deaf, like the dead that are under the ground,
That I laugh and laugh to see.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Ears Gone Deaf!
rich people pray
with their eyes closed,
hands in their pockets...
poor people pray
o'er shared fires,
the cooking pot names
the faces of their children.
whose God listens?
whose God cares?
the earth keeps turning
with ears gone deaf!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Musical Note
Liddle lie, liddle lie, liddle lie lay lee.
Liddle lie, liddle lie, liddle lie lay low.
These are the words that were sent to me
in a letter from my brother-in-law-Joe.
He said as the cock-crowed last Tuesday morning
he heard singing coming from down his garden.
Surprised and not believing what he was hearing
he went to see where the sound was coming from.
As he casually walked to the bottom of the garden
the singing became louder with his every stride.
He slowly parted the branches of the hedgerow
and saw a toad and mouse sitting side by side.
The toad sat cross-legged on a spotted toadstool
playing a mandolin and singing out loud.
The mouse was clapping in time to the music,
as were other animals that made up the crowd.
All the creatures joined in with the chorus
as they clapped and stamped their feet,
but then a mandolin string snapped and twanged,
which caused the toad to fall off his seat.
The audience stopped singing and fell about laughing,
as the toad got up from the ground,
he explained that the performance was now over
unless a new string could quickly be found.
With pain the mouse pulled out one of its whiskers
and asked the toad if it would be alright.
The musical toad smiled and said it would be perfect,
and adjusted the whisker to sound just right.
Once more the toad began playing and singing
to the happy hand clapping crowd.
Until a huge tabby tomcat called Thomas,
frightened everyone with its ‘meow’!
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Ass
I woke and rose and slipt away
To the heathery hills in the morning grey.
In a field where the dew lay cold and deep
I met an ass, new-roused from sleep.
I stroked his nose and I tickled his ears,
And spoke soft words to quiet his fears.
His eyes stared into the eyes of me
And he kissed my hands of his courtesy.
“O big, brown brother out of the waste,
How do thistles for breakfast taste?
“And do you rejoice in the dawn divine
With a heart that is glad no less than mine?
“For, brother, the depth of your gentle eyes
Is strange and mystic as the skies:
“What are the thoughts that grope behind,
Down in the mist of a donkey mind?
“Can it be true, as the wise men tell,
That you are a mask of God as well,
“And, as in us, so in you no less
Speaks the eternal Loveliness,
“And words of the lips that all things know
Among the thoughts of a donkey go?
“However it be, O four-foot brother,
Fair to-day is the earth, our mother.
“God send you peace and delight thereof,
And all green meat of the waste you love,
“And guard you well from violent men
Who’d put you back in the shafts again.”
But the ass had far too wise a head
To answer one of the things I said,
So he twitched his fair ears up and down
And turned to nuzzle his shoulder brown.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Bible Stories: Job (Chapter II)
When angels came before Yahweh,
Satan too joined them again.
The Lord asked him, “Whence do you come? ”
And Satan told, “By roaming earth,
And going on lands, back and forth.”
God asked, “Did you notice my servant Job?
There’s none like him upon the earth! ”
“You ruined Job without a cause! ”
And Satan answered Lord and said,
“Man gives all things to save his life;
Just touch his body, he’ll curse God.”
So, God placed Job in Satan’s hands;
‘Just spare his life, ’ God warned Satan.
So, Satan went from Lord’s presence,
And caused Job boils from head to foot;
Job took a potsherd to scrape with
And sat amongst the ashes sad.
His wife advised, “Curse God and die! ”
Job told her not to be foolish.
“When good things come, we praise the Lord.”
“Why shouldn’t some evil come? ” asked Job.
In all this, Job didn’t sin by word!
Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar-
Good friends of Job, heard the sad news,
And rushed to mourn and console him!
From far, they couldn’t recognize Job;
They wept aloud and tore their cloaks;
They sprinkled dust upon their heads;
And sat with him upon the ground,
For seven days and nights, speechless.
They saw his grief was very great!
poem by John Celes
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A Redmption Of The Self
when i stand there
there was a dark cloud of shame
above my head
the cloud is heavy
and it poured
dismay
i am drenched with
humiliation
i fell like i am a tree with
wilted leaves
that keep on falling to
the ground
until i become nothing
but twigs
mere fingers of the hands
skeletal to the sky
i do not have those roots
that keep me strong
but then there is always that
redemption
ally to the sun
shall i be when tomorrow comes
i grow my leaves again
spread my roots
deeper than the
hands of the rivers
to the cracks of the earth
where gold resides
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Brother Love's Traveling Salvation SHow
Hot August night and the leaves hanging down
and the grass on the ground smellin' sweet
Move up the road to the outside of town
and the sound of that good gospel beat
Sits a ragged tent where there ain't no trees
And that gospel group tellin' you and me
It's Love Brother Love say Brother Love's traveling salvation show
Pack up the babies and grab the old ladies and everyone goes
'Cause everyone knows Brother Love's show
Room gets suddenly still and when you'd almost bet
You could hear yourself sweat he walks in
Eyes black as coal and when he lifts his face
Every ear in the place is on him
Startin' soft and slow like a small earthquake
And when he lets go half the valley shakes
It's Love, Brother Love say Brother Loves traveling salvation show
Pack up the babies and grab the old ladies and everyone goes
'Cause everyone knows 'bout Brother Loves show
(Halleluja) Brothers (Halle, halleluja) I say brothers
Now you got yourself two good hands
And when your brother is troubled you've gotta
reach out your hand for him 'cause that's what it's there for
And when your heart is troubled you've gotta reach out
your other hand, reach it out to the Man up there
'Cause that's what He's there for
Take my hand in yours
Walk with me this day
In my heart I know
I will never stray
Halle, halle, halle, halle, halle, halle, halle, halle
Love Brother Love say Brother Love's traveling salvation show
Pack up the babies and grab the old ladies and everyone goes
I say Love Brother Love say Brother Love's traveling salvation show
Pack up the babies and grab the old ladies and everyone goes
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Ground
After driving all night Daddy stopped the car
Said, "Wake up kids, here we are
This is our new home"
From that Oldsmobile all I could see
Was an ocean of fields out in front of me
It just rolled on, on and on
Daddy crossed the fence and he knelt down
Filled his hands with rich farmland and said
"This is good ground"
I had it all underneath my feet
There was room to grow - there was time to breathe
And dreams stretched high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me - where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground
Mama had me diggin' in her flower bed
There it was an arrowhead
And all I wanted to be, was Cherokee
Seasons change and childhood goes
I laid down my homemade bow for a brown-eyed girl
She changed my world
I learned to drive so we could ride around
We made the sweetest memories in it
On good ground
I had it all underneath my feet
There was room to grow - there was time to breathe
And dreams stretched high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground
I drove all night then I stopped the car
Said, "Wake up kids, here we are
This is our new home
It's been too long"
Crossed that fence and I knelt down
Said, "Everybody gather 'round
Hold out your hands, this is good ground"
You've got it all underneath your feet
There's room to grow - there's time to breathe
And dreams stretch high under summer skies
This is where I'm from - this is who I am
Down these roads I became a man
And they're calling me where my roots run deep
Deep down - this is good ground
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Welcome The Rain That Comes In The Month Of August
equate the month of august with agony, it simply sounds like that
does not jibe well with sorrow or sadness, sounds too underestimating
and it goes well with the rain that comes surprisingly today
on this hot month, on this arid soil, on this acrid atmosphere
between us, this silence, inside us the rambling thoughts of
alienation, around us is the smell of spices of separation those that
when sliced like onions when peeled by our trembling fingers make us cry,
out there our eyes look at different directions and our hands are taking
the forms of mutual dislike like some roots spreading down the deep recesses
of this earth, preferring to be anonymous in this undescribable boredom
i like the rain, the sound of dripping, the slowness of life, dripping from my
hands like raindrops, like things gradually wasting themselves reaching my
toes, numb to my nails, wanting to be buried to the ground and simply
be forgotten
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evcharistos! and not only...
here is the world of not only:
lifting its face, lifting its hands,
beyond not, beyond only, to
not only, but.. to That!
not only for some, but for all.
Be sitting in your chair, or
kneeling before an altar or a statue, or
touching head to ground, or
cross-legged, the sitar and the vina
quietening to silence, the incense
filling the lungs and heart;
or walking through the forest, in the hills; seeing,
not only this, or this, but… that…
Eucharist, Communion, Advaita –
Thanksgiving, coming together as one,
‘not two’… do all these mean the same,
mean, not only?
not only you, but all of us;
not only worshipping, or working;
not only body or spirit;
not only earth or heaven;
but there, where work is worship; worship, work;
where activity is rest;
where Body is Spirit; Spirit, Body;
earth is heaven, and heaven’s on earth;
where sound and silence meet;
where stillness meets activity;
where body and spirit know each other;
take, if you wish, this sip of wine, this crumb of bread,
this handful of water, this flower,
in the memory of centuries and millions,
lifting, too, their faces and their hands;
looking beyond not only, finding, that;
or put your hands together,
as all things come together;
say the word, a word,
give a name to it, to That;
or listen to the sound beyond all names;
the sound that’s in the silence;
the life that’s in the stillness;
or stay with eucharist, communion, advaita, jihad,
sacrifice, surrender, prayer, praise;
they are your guardians and your friends,
smiling as they run toward you, greeting;
calling out to you,
not only… but…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Your Name
The most beautiful sound I've ever heard
is the sound that's contained in just one word,
Your name.
Your name I have said since we were young.
The feel of it as it rolls off my tongue
leaves me to wonder how it can be
that just your name is heaven to me.
It's short and it's sweet and when it's said
images of you are all in my head.
How you look in the morning light,
how you feel in the dark of night,
how you move from day to day,
how you know just what to say.
All of these things do remain.
They're part of all that keeps me sane.
Your name, Your name.
If all other sounds were taken away
and your name was the only sound to stay,
the glories of heaven would shine on my ears
as I heard your name
for the rest of my years.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Misshaped Love.
You never talked about cowboys
or shootouts with Fay.
She was the girl
in the apartment above
who lived with her mum and dad
and younger brother.
You sat next to her
on the bus
your hands wanting to reach out
and touch hers.
You didn’t
but held them in check
like hounds ready
for the chase.
She was about your age
eleven or so
give or take a few months
and she had long blonde hair
which her mother
sometimes braided
sometimes not.
What do you do
in your spare time?
She asked.
Oh you know
play about
on the bombed out buildings
or bombsites
or go swimming
or play ball with friends
you said.
She nodded and looked away.
There was a bruise
on her neck
where her hair parted
and sometimes
when you put your hand
on her shoulder
she’d wince
and move away.
But not that day.
That day she let it stay
and even tapped
your hand with hers.
She turned around
and faced you
her eyes filled with tears
like flooded cities
the blue islands
of her pupils
seemingly swimming
against the tide.
We’re moving away
she said.
Where? You asked.
Somewhere far away.
Won’t see you anymore
she said.
The bus drew up
at your stop
and you got off
and the bus drove away
and you saw her hand
wave at the window.
You never saw her again
or heard how she did
in later years
or if her father still beat her
as Mother said he had.
Sometimes you still saw her
waving goodbye
in your dreams at night.
The bus going over the hill
and your heart pounding
with a misshaped
small boy love still.
poem by Terry Collett
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