A set of songs and poems, thoughts and food articles. I hope you enjoy.
Peace. Love. Faith.
A set of songs and poems, thoughts and food articles. I hope you enjoy.
Peace. Love. Faith.
When The Third Book Opened
Yeah, I know, I know I am one of those,
Those upon their knees, crying, laughing,
Feeling vast. I like to feel vast. It’s cool,
I know the prayers will accept me,
Yet then small visions banging
On each side inside out my head,
They were not my own, and I asked to stop…
Then I knew I better not,
For something there is bigger than me.
God and confusion: each masters of my domain,
This room of books and song, of prayer,
Of labors I’d rather not do but they
Have needs beyond my own.
Telling me exactly what and why I am and I am not.
So I speak each vision into my iPhone…yeah,
This ridiculous new age that ate my pens
And took away typing when I felt the visions
Rise again, and so I had to wait to listen
To my skin, to the air around me,
To the asteroid shower gleaming above her
On a grass hillside above Jenner and the river,
Above the Pacific where they shot and left trails
And it looked like suns birthing around her head,
That blond mystery, I am afraid of them,
I am afraid my soul will be eaten alive
Before I can say my last Holy Father,
My last Hail Mary when each breath
Was that heavenly inhale exhale
Within one another, it was all I wanted.
Then I saw the hillside collapse,
And there was nothing but she above me
Blond hair like a forest of soft thin grasses,
And I saw an angel, my angel,
Lay her hand upon a page I could never read,
And I wanted, I desired, I knew I could not,
So into another night I drew constellations
Of song upon this high ceiling, the sky,
Through this air, or was it sandalwood scented hair?
All I hear is this knocking, demanding,
Every life stands upon my own, Humility,
You angry creature, you have kept me bent
Over all my life even standing tall I was still beneath you,
You, dear God, You; I am just a man,
Doing my thing disappearing into another sunrise,
Saying YES, I hear you to each tap on my mind,
And yes, I write her beauty as you tell me,
I walk alone and sing. Then we along the coastline
And take her hand, watch another star shower
And admit that things are not always what they seem.
Spring snow on the coastline
in a note in an illuminated night
she was there an episode opening
an episode on the way sea foam
Coagulates then bursts
Out in flurries
White against a star burned
Night a night illuminated
Wander along dodging
Gulls crashing against
The sounds against the way
This singing night lights
Fire on the dawn
Konbu nori strands
shiver in the sands
Dawn and spring snows
Coaxed back into the sea
This is a beauty
Pretty stars lighting Venus
Light shine light adored
This is how I remember you
A bright star in daylight
Will o’the heart
Willed away and I never
Had the chance to say
Please stay please cross
The dunes find wild roses
For me for you to stay
Waking and gazing into an asteroid shower at 6 a.m.
Knowing that I was robbed not twice but three times.
Thank you new banking system where you destroy on automatic or lay enough delays to lose your home after being twice hacked and treated as a criminal. Killers making excuses silk thin bringing little deaths upon us all. The poem is a curse. Daniel as he prayed was for a curse that the lions find another meal than his own flesh. As David praying his enemies be conquered and he dance drunken in the streets celebrating and then realizing not by the curse as our government and banks would wish upon us little tiny people. We do as we are told, then throw a CD player out the window and blow it apart with a 12 guage pump Mosburg looking like indie 70s movies playing in slow motion.
Now, this poem incantation as the young sorcerer Milarepa, later Buddhist mystic song writer, would have spoken into his yak dung fire no different than Biblical warriors a thousand miles away. So I paused inside my language to feel the anger rise and subside in hope “change is gonna come”.
The second is a song-poem because I could not decide to sing or recite. My plan was to play piano, but I scrapped that idea after listening to the power again of the rising sun through this brightly lit green edge of the forest where colors you cannot name them all, yeah I dare even a gin and sprite drunk Frank O’Hara could not name. So I left it as it is, an unaccompanied poem sang into each ray of light, sang into each whistle of night bird mocking bird doing their night bird thing, you know, mocking birds singing back as you sing to them and they as well whistle the dawn awake and calmly pull the covers over the last glimmers of night. Yeah, this is late night August night where thunderheads or soft sunshine bring the day alive. . .you just don’t know until it is here. Rushing along the sidewalks, the lawns, rushing into the wood just to hear the peace of a slow river slow soft swirls of water caught circling around a lone rock just past the 1951 bridge pretended to be repaired but it looks like gorilla glue and duck tape to me. This is not death. It is an optimism. The young sorcerer Milarepa stidll looking to find the light of the Diamond Sutta (from the Pali text it is sutta not sutra, that’s all, just respecting the language) after hoping that of the Lotus Sutta would wake his body into life.
Morning Namo Amitabha no effects or anything, just the bowls and my chanting a few prayers.
Trying a new thing to get around SoundCloud and just the music. So copy and paste the link to today’s morning Tibetan Singing Bowls and prayers/sutras
I recorded my morning singing bowls and meditation on Amitabha, third level of Heaven being Pure Land, happiness, pure happiness among other Bodhisattvas and Buddhas. And so I haad to play the vocals through different knob settings and played around with a mellotron for proper background holdings for the bowles when eah ran free of it’s vibrations. There are messages in the poetry throughout but you really have to listen closely. It’s about ways of reaching Heaven, of at least being freed of the travails of the ever mortal shell in which we reside.
Source: Concerto for Those Who …
This is a concerto I have had in my mind for a while and was just able to play and edit it late and today. It is love. But there are those who think if I name them FB will be onto them. If you are on FB you are known way beyond your imagination. A lovely concerto for those I love who despise my naming them for thanks or simply as an act of positive action, I apologize for the pain I have caused you. So here is a nameless concerto that ends in a pretty beautiful two or three minute solo piano extension on an idea of right vision and right speech as forms of expelling the hardened heart and allowing the love to exist rather than to destroy what is good and positive. Be good and positive. One of my beloved said to get over the friends who reacted out of hate. But it’s hard for me. I believe in the positive power of friendship so much that even in the face of hatred or negativity I must offer love and do not harm. No matter the struggles and harms of this life there is still the love and years of friendship worth keeping rather than burying it over some gossip and forms of misalliance. always remember, there is a “hide from timeline” button so no one will know you know me or are beloved even if you yield a hammer over honest conditions. Be love. Peace. Be love now.
This is a concerto I have had in my mind for a while and was just able to play and edit it late and today. It is love.
But there are those who think if I name them FB will be onto them. If you are on FB you are known way beyond your imagination. A lovely concerto for those I love who despise my naming them for thanks or simply as an act of positive action, I apologize for the pain I have caused you. So here is a nameless concerto that ends in a pretty beautiful two or three minute solo piano extension on an idea of right vision and right speech as forms of expelling the hardened heart and allowing the love to exist rather than to destroy what is good and positive. Be good and positive. One of my beloved said to get over the friends who reacted out of hate. But it’s hard for me. I believe in the positive power of friendship so much that even in the face of hatred or negativity I must offer love and do not harm. No matter the struggles and harms of this life there is still the love and years of friendship worth keeping rather than burying it over some gossip and forms of misalliance. always remember, there is a “hide from timeline” button so no one will know you know me or are beloved even if you yield a hammer over honest conditions. Be love. Peace. Be love now.
I am still working on bringing the poetry back into my writings which is what I have published the most (350 and two books), but until the muse returns to bless me again for leaving her behind in times of pain and struggle, I must create so in music is my poetry and I hope that you feel the poetry, the words to my beloveds and those who seek harm and distance over the friendship that stood strong for so long. I pray for them. I meditate on their actions. It’s all I can do. I’ve called and went to voicemail and left loving messages but no return. I guess some things must be accepted as they are no matter how great the anger towards for things I do not even know I did that were so socially wrong that by being me and speaking openly, living openly as me and me alone, I have broken social moral codes that are unforgivable; yet I have no idea what secret handshakes and magic words I have missed. But I still love. I still care. I would do anything for them. But they choose to make me an outcast and I am OK being in the margins, not like it’s new. SO, when words are denied me I go for music as my vehicle and inspiration.
I hope you enjoy. I hope you feel the poetry and love that is this concerto
This is an oh boy! or an oh hell not this….
It is a thirty minute meditation with morning singing bowls, a poem on highlights within a stream of light, Pure Land Amitabha meditation and explanation of what Mahayana and Amitabha Buddha teaching on three levels of heaven with the highest level being Pure Land. So many read really awful world religion texts, translations from 1900 and very prejudiced and unlearned expositions upon Mahayana Buddhism. I real Pali text translations and Sanskrit as they are closest to the 7th Buddha, our Shakyamuni Gautama Buddha who become the Enlightened One we mostly speak of when in reference to Buddhism. Being true to the teachings is not easy, as you progress over the years one begins to enter a stage of Bodhisattva where the supernatural nature of the noble truths, noble paths, and of attaining to a state of heightened knowledge and spiritual evolution, it is not to separate from others nor is it a substitute for Heaven. It just means that some of us work very very diligently to overcome our inner suffering and to attain right vision and and right action. Peace. Love. Charity. Hope. Compassion. Now there are differences, and throughout my life people have relished finding ways to stump me on the beauty and transitional nature of living life to feeling and knowing life as it is lived as an ascetic. I go on. Forgive me.
Careful with that volume, Eugene! heheh. This starts loud loud loud and becomes more of a song poem to the confusion of passion and love.
Don’t we all at some time? Confuse passion and love.
So I suddenly just hollered this one out. Turned on the recorder and did it again, then fixed yodels and yelps but kept a few high pitched sounds of that crazy bizarre emotion that makes us doe the wildest things never thought possible, but yeah, anything is possible. Guess I can’t say more lest lives are wounded by the truths of passion. She is beloved departed, never could get free of cocaine and her heart just finally said No. Peace in Spirit, dear one.
This is a less rambling lost and messy version than one earlier. I hope it is. After a while when I am working in several different mediums it is easy to get lost in God, in the third circle/level of beauty and ugliness beheld before the heart is given all to see and all to feel. I cut it in half and used wave form sound patterns as it progresses but it is still an angry work and anger is the target aimed at in dawn mists to shed this skin and bring myself back into the love of Tara, Buddha and Guan Shin Yi once again.