Must i speak another word
to describe what i see
And chop the wings of a flying bird
to satisfy this urge in me
Shall i not
weave from thought
to captive make of beauty
So let her fly
my metaphors die
than stagnate in my poetry
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A Buddha has nothing particularly to throw away.All substances of human struggles is volatile in a Buddha's mind.The garbage sack is a metaphor, in which we go on filling our accumulated fears,futilities and disillusionments.But,if eventually Buddha had a garbage sack,what could one find in it,If not,the emptiness that allows him to stay available to the river of life. "The Mind is that garbage sack,So Just throw it away.And be happy."That's what my wornout guide from Buddha's garbage says.
orgasmik's listenings
Here
Here; words don't exist in the normal sense.
Here; everything moves in stillness.
Here; the days are born not from the rising sun but from the perfume of the silent mind.
Here; dried leaves stirs in the storms.
Here; you cross the river of death daily.
( If you've liked this ,then, go read the rest of the poem somewhere in this blog )
Feel free to come. Enjoy and share these thoughts....but, do not take away without asking.
i respect the one who reads, so please respect these writings.
Copyright is about respect.
While ' Copy write ' is not.....especially when taken without asking!
Here; everything moves in stillness.
Here; the days are born not from the rising sun but from the perfume of the silent mind.
Here; dried leaves stirs in the storms.
Here; you cross the river of death daily.
( If you've liked this ,then, go read the rest of the poem somewhere in this blog )
Feel free to come. Enjoy and share these thoughts....but, do not take away without asking.
i respect the one who reads, so please respect these writings.
Copyright is about respect.
While ' Copy write ' is not.....especially when taken without asking!
About Me
- Craftsman of light
- i m not bothered anymore about any other quests other than discovering about myself through daily existence,which certainly includes trees,pebbles,clouds, mountains and you.
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To the "Nuit" ..begining!!
Had'nt it been for the beautiful poems of"Nuit" ...nothing of all this would have come to
day.
so my first flight is a tantric flight .
I dedicate it to "Nuit" this verbal temple !
A Horny NIRVANA
New mudra,
The surya mudra
The Arthashastra man murmurs into your ears
Entwine me with your " ida"
Entwine me with your
"pingala"
Wrap your legs around my cosmic
tree
Arc your legs ,let the Sushumna come
through
Pump it up from
the Mooladhara to the Sahasrara
Lay with me
on this bed
of thousand blossoming lotuses
Satori spills, jerk by jerk
into your chakras
For a moment you can believe
You are Shakti
And I Shiva
God is so horny
So is our Nirvana!!
In a moment tastes the infinity!
day.
so my first flight is a tantric flight .
I dedicate it to "Nuit" this verbal temple !
A Horny NIRVANA
This
New mudra,
The surya mudra
The Arthashastra man murmurs into your ears
Entwine me with your " ida"
Entwine me with your
"pingala"
Wrap your legs around my cosmic
tree
Arc your legs ,let the Sushumna come
through
Pump it up from
the Mooladhara to the Sahasrara
Lay with me
on this bed
of thousand blossoming lotuses
Satori spills, jerk by jerk
into your chakras
For a moment you can believe
You are Shakti
And I Shiva
God is so horny
So is our Nirvana!!
In a moment tastes the infinity!