The vicious quiet,
the killing that
springs forth
into life later,
to feed and grow
and later, die
and give life
to bacteria
 fed on
by others and finally those that
nourish the seed tyhat sprouts
until it's
a green plant that
the rabbit eats
who in turn
is silently preyed upon
in the night
by the owl
who then discards
the remains that feed
the rich brown/black
soil that feeds
the thorny plant that
makes the blackberry
being picked by
the owner of
the Honda parked
on the side of the road
just east of my home.

She'll eat that berry,
discard it later,
where maybe that
remains is filtered
treated and
used as compost
that a gardner will
come pick up
and spread on his garden
which makes the
orange naturcium and cucumber he eats,
throwing the
green cucumber skin
on the rich smelling
compost heap
that feeds the bacteria
and worms and birds,
and maybe my cat.

I finished reading about dharma master Gampopa earlier today, and that really encouraged me. I was amazed at how much it encouraged me in fact.  Reading straight up dharma usually does, as does poetry.

And playing the drum kit....

Well, what if I own nothing? It's somewhat a matter of perspective because surely I will go out the way I came in, to some degree depending on how I actually die, and since I have no idea, like everyone else when that moment really is, maybe I should have a different perspective, like say maybe that I just rent all this stuff and the space I use to store all the stuff in Carlinesque manner and then get on with developing true riches like virtue and happiness that comes from making choices to develop relationships and family ties and helping others in as many ways as possible because then I don't have the burden of actually having that pang of fear of even thinking about losing everything I think I own because I won't be attached to those things which are after all just things and will break and go away even if thats after I'm gone; not to mention the cost of fixing all those things.

Detachment from people and things means that I really own nothing. The only thing that I "own" is the conciousness that is hanging out in this body at the moment, and this body will, well, we've already been over the whole death thing so maybe we can just get on with it because really death and impermanence are realities so we could do with building a society that recognizes that and create one that has better values than spending all our resources and time on stuff, because that seems just a bit insane really doesn't it, whereas I want my legacy to be that even though I was opinionated I was willing to listen and learn and be corrected and wanted what was best for people and even that doesn't matter all that much because I won't be here to boast of my own legacy but I will have a lot of good karma and that will benefit me beyond the life in this body.

So we really can enjoy life if we just open up our hands, with our palms up and fingers outstretched and experience life which is going to happen anyway but if we make better choices as to how we respond then the whole attachment thing will change and our minds will change because isnt a person simply what they think about, I mean it's been said many times throughout history and then we spend all our time thinking about how to get stuff and we get back into the same cycle we were in before so, well, if we just let life be and look inward we will find the answers we are looking for.

It won't happen any other way.

Is it a woman's lips,
or her breasts?
Certain politicians
might say so.

Is it being
in the presence of
the fire,
or the gasses that
ignite and roll over
your head?
I could think so.

Is it the
gun metal blue,
or precision feel
of a slide along
the barrel and receiver?
Confused young inner city youth
and middle aged militia members
might think so.

Is it the power of
saying so, and
seeing it happen?
Bill Clinton thought so.

Is it the
investor/entertainer/pro-jock
level of money
that commands the worlds
treasuries,
rarities,
and beauty?

It is none of that.
What is
dangerous
is the ego.

Not content with my
level of contentment,
what to do with
ambition rising.

How can the
heart not soar
when the beauty
all around
makes the eyes sing?

Bliss is
an elixer,
an amrita,
a direct result.

As a person thinks,
so they are:
Leader or follower?
Successful or not?
Moving forward and up?
Full or empty?
Afraid?
All based on choice.

Be not attached
this way,
I tell myself.
Bliss is a result,
and will soon
enough come
to stay.
But like oil,
slips through the fingers
if I cling.

A set of bluff stairs;
concrete sack on
the shoulder,
and go
down,down,down
and then get
uppity
there for
some lumber
and tools or a
battery.

I also repaired the
relationship
I damaged
by stopping what I was
doing
when my son came in
and gave him
my full attention;
and listening with
both ears
while my beloved
poured out her heart.

I confirmed what
my boss said,
so he knew
what he needed
would be done.
I passed on this bit
of wisdom to
the new guy,
and helped fix
a fractured culture.

I fixed the
words of this poem
as I wrote,
maybe a no-no
in the writers world,
but a lot like
my professional
standards:
don't leave it
for the next person,
do it right
the first time.

Standards I can
apply to all of my life:
my relationships,
volunteer work,
hobbies
and passions
and spiritual path.

Mastering one skill
opens the door
to another skill
and new tools.
From master
to grasshopper
to master....

So I guess what i mostly
fix is
myself.

Indpendence is a myth.
We like to
believe that we
are free of the influence
or control
of others.
But we aren't.
Your thoughts are shaped
by your parents, teachers,
maybe even clergy.
Byt he books you read,
by the pundits you listen to.
We all are.

We are shaped by our traumas.
It becomes a filter.

We are all dependent,
though dislike admitting it.
We are dependent on mom from day one.
We depend on our parents, then teachers,
taxpayers to provide the school
then the electricity,
the water, the road, scholarships and grants
or a boss to hire, then a boss to hire,
and carpenters, electricians,
plumbers, trash collectors,
the military,
economists,
manufacturers,
could you even make a pencil?
Could you extract the rubber, brass, wood, and graphite lead
and mill it, shape it, form it,
all by yourself?

Do you program your own computer?

We all are very dependent,
inter-dependent,
and the lives of the rubber tree harvesters,
and ore miners, and loggers, and millers,
programers, builders,
public utility workers, and my neighbors
all come together as I scratch a note
on a piece of paper while
I write this poem on the internet.

Want want want!
Social security, a nice car,
which of course comes
with a hunk
or beautiful babe.
Gizmos galore, and
who cares about the ceidt
it racks up, or
the mountain of interest
to be paid.
Food junkie, news junkie,
adrenaline junkie and all the
sport stuff, addictives, kayaks,
canoes, computers, consume
consume, consume.
Not living simply so that
others simply can't live.
Passions like this root me
to the things of this world.

But I hate that man! He was
a lousy husband/Senator/lawyer
President/talk show host
or even a woman who wrote books that were so full
of beans that it's laughable.
Yes, a war cost us billions and thousandsof lives
and health care sucks, and education is brpken and new Orleans
and the corruption and immorality
and tax cuts and pardons -
and if you let the anger eat you,
then you as well are one of the victims,
One of the casualties,
a self imposed loser of that battle.
Anger and hatred are self imposed,
a look in the mirror.
Liberate yourself.

Because; because;
all of those things have effect,
but no ultimate meaning.
No one escapes their karma.
No one lives forever.
I will reap what I sow.
Action always brings results
and action left undone
is never met.
The future is determined
by my choice now.
The past is memory
in my mind, mere shadows.
Hope and worry
do me no good.
Ignorance of reality
is the root of anger and passion
as well.
Know myself, be still.
Heal my self, be still.
Then arise,
in gentle love,
and play.

Why not all of them?
They are only here,
and they certainly
don't go with me
and most likely
many of those things
I believe are
based on someone
else's opinions and thoughts
and partly
that's the way it should be
but it limits us
at the same time.

We should examine all
we believe, and discard
regualrly that which
does not serve to
love.

Many beliefs are simply
for comfort
against the fear that I will die
and that I don't know when
and since I do little
to actually prepare myself
for, not against,
that moment,  not day,
I comfort myself
with beliefs that amount to
little more than lies
I tell myself.

Is it not better to face that fear naked
as I came and shall go
than to have to be stripped
and find all that I constructed
to protect myself
was wasted time and effort?

The only thing that matters
is the reality that doesn't die,
which can be called mind,
or consciousness, maybe
even spirit. That already exists
and doesn't need belief.
It needs attention to now,
to be known fully,
and to be uncovered freom the
constructs of my ego.

Inside, crazy, and
all over the place.
I don't worry
about
the time
cuz this isn't
a race.

An adventure,
a party,
a chore,
and hard work.

I've discovered
the charmer,
the poet,
the jerk.

Omnisicence
is the limit,
there's a long way to go,
and it all comes to
me
so I can look closely
and take
it all slow.