Tanka-Verse

Cat purring in my arms
jumps down
in the moment
not attached to me
meows to play

Resistance is Futile?by Muttering Madzub

Resistance is Futile? by Muttering Madzub

My human self resisting, insisting
Yammers on and on and on,
Perpetually relentless, pointless, noise
feeding on, holding on to its own nonexistence
Thoughts of self and self-centered delusion
Clutter the environment of Being

The Borg of chaotic humming mind voices
recite the futility mantra with finality and certainty
obscuring attention, distracting, attracting,
detracting from Being and compassion,
propagating, cloning thought zombies
suck life-force and disseminate suffering.

The battle for Mind is elusive and illusive
Narcissistic self, loves to engage in pointless battles
to achieve imagined victories
from image-nations, and hoards of inner demons
Attention is the vorpal blade
That slays the “Jabberwock”* “with eyes of flame”.*

Fear used by imagined self
creates a milieu of morass
Fetters of phantasms dissolve
when attention’s light
pierces darkened enslavement
to self that does not exist

The “Only Thing We Have to Fear Is Fear Itself”?**
fear has no self to fear
self has no self to fear
self has no fear to fear
no existence to protect or project
no dots to connect

Can’t figure it out
Deduce, produce, induce…perhaps seduce?
Machinations of meanings meted out ad nauseum
Puking out explanations of self infatuation
No out to figure, no figure to out
Just attention to moment being

“Being just this moment, compassion’s way.”***

* JABBERWOCKY, Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

**“Only Thing We Have to Fear Is Fear Itself”: FDR’s First Inaugural Address
*** Joko Beck

Sitting with Samsara

By Muttering Madzub

Sitting with Samsarawatching waves go by.
Illusion and fantasy follow rivulets and eddies
that disappear as the current
carries the dream remnants
to the great ocean of forgetting

Samsara beckons me to join her babbling waters
voices calling me to leave
the pool where I sit.
The journey of the stream is so enticing
But when I bow to quench my thirst
My mouth is dry and wanting.

Samsara, maiden of mist and smoke
You promise your heart
yet spurn your lovers
as they fawn over you.
Your cruel intentions are veiled
with sweet lies.

Love is not in you Samsara,
Your capacity for intimacy
is shadowed by your ego.
No place for any other in your bed
Yet you bed all
with your siren call.

Samsara, you rise to slip into your element
And motion me to follow
Your desires drip like honey
Sweet without sustenance.
I am enticed, yet,
My desire is elsewhere.

Samsara my heart has found the Other
The One that sits quietly inside me
waiting for my attention.
I feel the Presence of ancient arms
Embracing and holding me
Enfolding me in crystal luminescence.

No attachment
No thought
No path
No dream
No suffering
No Samsara

Lie-brary Story

Lie-brary Story

Sitting in the lie-brary
I sit entranced with the pages of my life
Talking books with talking sticks that beat me
Yammer on and on

Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers,
all characters plotting my story
Do I cling to my story a little longer
hoping for a new chapter, a new verse, turn of phrase?
Hoping to turn the page on my life?

My life? My story? Attached?
Time to burn the book or, step back and take a look
and put the book back up on the shelf?
The story is always there

The story gets complicated
As the plot thickens
Guns, murder, life and death
Love, hate, lust.. dreamy dramas
That captivate and incarcerate

"Shhh, no talking in the lie-brary"
The librarian whispers
Shelves of stories that clamor to be read aloud
Yet the sepulcher of silence bodes ill for those that dare speak out truth

Attached to the musty, moldy stories that run through my head,
Endless streaming data, recording, revising and revealing
Book reviews and endless commentary persist
As my preferences order my stories so I can find them again and again

Words fade with time
"The library is closing in 5 minutes"
Do I scramble and check out my story now,
so I can read and re-read it over and over?
Or, do I just let them go until they disintegrate on the shelves…

When I leave my story on the shelf
my stories fade and crumble to dust and ash.
I leave the lie-brary as my eyes open slowly
and I begin to adjust to the light filled room
"I must have fallen asleep", I mutter to myself
I once was blind but now I am seeing…

---

Neo: Why do my eyes hurt?
Morpheus: You've never used them before.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0133093/quotes

Sanity and Insanity

Sanity and insanity
different sides to the same coin.
Awareness-mindfulness the coins edge?
One human’s sanity is another’s insanity.
Flip the coin and it all disappears.