Some Transient Life

In Hell light is dark
And the weak are turned Stark
One is left with naught
But thought
And so free goes the heart

When all eyes are turned away
We’ll see how Heaven will sway
And today

So we commit every sin
On nothing but a touch of whim
Writing in damask
As our forefathers and foremothers once did
Lights off to praise their own shadows
Eyes closed to see where the mind goes

Unabashed, Unafraid
To see where our sleeping passions lay
For is there submission without zen?
Is there Heaven without sin?
Shouldn’t the Buddha want us fulfilled
When he leaves us so empty?

Our earthly desire relinquished
Our darkly fire extinguished
For what will we say in the dark
When all will turn back to light?

The Kannon statue sees me wasted
Full of the life I solemnly tasted
My life carved into him
Like incense and bells
Prayed as wind chimes
Through my many Hells


All flies continually gather
In the areas already swept
Living the lives of life rather
Where the mothers had wept

The ghats tread the golden waters
Sweeping their own man of means
Above, ho! Ponder the squatters
In some lost wave of Ganges

For what then is the life of a gadfly
Continually birthed in each sunrise?


Velvet shades
Keep out the rays
Of sunshine gray
Against the windowpane
Of pockmarked graves

Some cry out in dismay
From woebetide beds they lay
Searching for their better days
When all who prayed
Could be saved

Now with thoughts they dare not say
When they see all that led astray
Onto their wayward way
Laughing as memories so sway
That freedom is the price that freedom pays

A Harp of Burma

The soil of Burma is red
And so are its rocks

I tread what seems
To be destinies
On foot alone

Telling the stories that will never be read
Saving the lives that will never be dead
Shedding all thing that can’t be bled

From a ruby river
Waves lap the shore
Once and nevermore
Never to deliver

Souls wade in the shadows
Hung in the gallows
Adrift in fame
Lost in shame

Men are strongest when they kill with both hands
But they’re stronger still when they pray with one

The soil of Burma is red
And so are its rocks