A Forest Monk Speaks

If you find yourself in a Buddhist temple
You are not in a Buddhist temple.

Though you pray and chant for yourself
Night and day, you remain in Hell.

Living and dying, are the two not one
Happening at the same time?

A cobra lifts its head in your path.
Teach it to hiss, not bite.  It is you.

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Poem first appeared in “The Fires of Spring” by Rayn Roberts

Forest Monks

The Monk & The Cobra Parable

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Mantra

This may be nothing new nothing at all
or nothing now you need to take to heart,
whatever it is to you it will mean nothing
until realized: with billions of minds, hearts
savage wills pulling at the seams of reality
it’s a wonder the whole doesn’t tear open
spill out into riots, revolutions, war, chaos
far more often than it does which doesn’t mean
we stop tying to make life somewhat better
but rather it will never be what you want
That’s right, it will never be just as we want–
Say it often to yourself if you think it helps.

 

 

 

 

 

Poem first appeared in Of One & Many Worlds

 

Experiment with Time Travel

They led us to sunlight on the grass beside the school
Brought an extension cord and phonograph with a box
Of long silks of many colors, played Stravinsky’s Firebird
Ravel’s La Mer, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, and suddenly
We began to move like birds, like deer trailing scarves!
We began to come alive outside the classroom, the box.
We became human for the first time in our public school.
This was kindergarden, no thought, no conditioned response

We were happy to be in the light with melodies enchanting us
Inspiring wonder in motion as in many innocent moments
Unaware of gender or race, only a spontaneous urge to run
Dance in circles with colors glowing over our heads, sway
In time to leap and fly celebrating two or three colors,
Yes, simply being as children are, free to express and play.
We were fully alive for thirty minutes–  it felt like hours.

The teachers smiled when the experiment was over, they had
Done their best to evoke some creativity in us, but that
Was never needed, we needed only to be worry-free, fearless
Willing to listen, to laugh, and you know, I can’t tell you
How many yearless moments, I’ve wondered why this memory
Returns like a dream of an old love, time and again– Well
I don’t anymore, but fall, into a reverie and dance, dance again.

 

 

 

Poem appeared 1st in “Of One & Many Worlds” by Rayn Roberts Poetic Matrix Press

The Web

It’s not the known that holds the secrets to knowing more.
There is more than what we see and know here and now.

Search the far reaches of the future
Dark womb of tomorrow
Understand the possible
Flowers in impossible gardens:
If we can link
Countless computers
One massive mind giving dreams
Knowledge, ideas
Making the many one,
How possible is One Mind
One Net of Energy, Web of Spirit?

It’s not what you see or know that can hurt or help you.
Be still as you move, keep an eye open for the invisible.

 

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“The Web” first appeared in the book “Of One and Many Worlds” by Rayn Roberts @  Poetic Matrix Press
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Realization

for Ann Anderson

I’ve come to an uneasy peace running from the past
Where voices speak your name
You living ghost come out of darkness
Blinding me with joy only animals know.

I was your toy, a thing nearly real
For love ever is
But marriage is money in the big city
And a soldier’s son
Was unwelcome to a physician’s fair daughter
Lady Anne of quiet beauty, love of you nearly killed me.

Where are you, barbed eyes, sex like E
Raw love of a man
Ruin of my youth locked in my arms?
So foolishly cunt-struck was I
I’d have killed for you
Like some kill for gold or dreams
I had none, only love, pathetic love–

Nights on a sea cliff
Where the waves thundered invitations!
What a scar I might have left
But I could not in any way harm you–
As you flew out of the city
Forever away from me
I felt you sitting next to me in my car
I guess you were
Floating over me, I turned and said your name.

Celtic Tree of Life

Native Love Song

Come, my love, there is work to be done
then we will sing.

Why are you sad?

When you walk with me, the corn is ripe
the river song sounds in our ears
the wolf is high in the mountain
the eagle and I are brothers.

Why do you worry?

Your gait excites the young warriors
You charm me more than your sisters
Your path is full of my footprints
Your father waits in his dwelling
Your mother knows.

Why do you doubt, you know I am yours.

Come, my love, there is work to be done
then we will sing.

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