Author Archives: Ben Naga

At Ease

AT EASE

Now in solitude
Now blessed with companionship
All one vast dreaming

Gaia’s Children (Republished)

GAIA’S CHILDREN

Some live among garbage
Others rule from a palace
Few manage contentment
Whatever their station

She gathers them all, every one
To her heart, her precious ones
And grieves for each lost one
Each teardrop a fresh ocean

Formernesses Recalled

FORMERNESSES RECALLED

“Is it up?” she wantonly cried
I knew not how and yet
For lost were we in that
Conjecture manifest

… Untongued

… Momentarily

… Eternally

I knew not how and yet
Still know not yet
In retrospect

Grasping at straws as I may
As any of us ever may
This camel’s broken back
Added to the score

Adieu
Godspeed

how it is

“No footing”

dhamma footsteps

POSTCARD#324: Bangkok airport: Arriving from Chiang Mai, all trains into town are seriously crowded and no taxis available anywhere at the airport. Therefore I become the Crowd, one of a very large number of individuals caught in the rush on a Friday evening. Somebody later said it’s because all the international schools start again on Monday. Whatever, go with the crowd, it’s decided for me, I accept. I am subject to the public transport System, I am being ‘taken’, it’s about the process, rather than any particular person controlling the process. For different reasons, I could create a Controller in my imagination, like the bosses, the management and blame it all on them/him/her/it, but it’s about the way it works, and there’s no ‘self’ in the equation – the deed is done but there is no doer, using the Passive Voice language function to express the Buddhist Truth of no-self…

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After a Long Drought

I know not how and yet …

simonhlilly

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AFTER A LONG DROUGHT

The log lorries roaring hungry to the forests,
their bare ribbed skeletons longing for another heavy load.

Such a waste of words this poetry is,
scattered in the warm wind unable to withstand
the returning silence that covers with cloud the hills
turned heather purple
and the curling first thoughts of autumn
and the spit of rain.

The path to Fannog was damp
and the woods smelled of blackberries.
The steel still waters sullen and drained,
the old farm’s walls, out in the shallows,
Surfaced again, thirty years, more, since the last time,
haunting the view,
the craggy rocks impossible in sunshine
after so many years dark under murky waters.

They have receded
pulled back from the tops of their drowned valleys
like lips curled back from a corpse’s teeth,
the bare stumps of black trees, the slope of field and fence post.

We are measured…

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A Gladdening

A GLADDENING

So another new day dimly dawns
Decked in chittering e-mails
But here comes it seems yours
For sure I tag it Personal tout de suite
Though not time yet to return the volley
For I am for my sins otherwise occupied
Smothered in oil, vinegar and mustard

So multimuch is out there … But the Truth?
Let’s be honest … If we dare
At root mainly much impersonal simplicity
Mainly simply words mimicking other words
They read somewhere sometime
In other words plagiarising
Acting out

But not yours
Dear one
Not yours
And so bless you
And all of any those
Who speak from the heart
Not as litany

Bless you
Bless you
Bless you thricely

Transitory

TRANSITORY

You see everything
So differently just now
While in a moment …

The True Destination

THE TRUE DESTINATION

Nowhere to go
No need to go anywhere
Sit where you are
Simply follow your heart

Not For Nothing

NOT FOR NOTHING

Many years ago now we vowed
That we would never allow loss
(however painful this might be)
To restrict our deeply felt interaction
With any of the music we love

Given that we view music as
A gymnasium for the emotions
It surely follows don’t you know
That if we do not exercise
Our emotions when needed
Or like water, or like blood
They fester and putrefy

Teardrops
Contain both
Water (for cleansing)
And salt (for preservation)

Nature is not called
Mother Nature
For nothing

Limbo

LIMBO

Swing ‘twixt hope and fear
Unending uncertainty
Our sole companion
Sweating like limbo dancers
Watching the lowering pole

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