The Hypocrisy of In Between

In between worlds

I stand adrift in my little boat

In the vast ocean of samsara


Sometimes energetic

Sometimes lost and confused

Sometimes Oppressor

Sometimes Oppressed


Such is the hypocrisy

Of in between worlds


Denying the Oppressor

Denied by the Oppressed

Wearing Oppressor clothes

Eating Oppressor food

Venturing out to ‘serve’ the Oppressed


Such is the hypocrisy

Of in between worlds


It might be that

In the eyes of the Oppressed

I’m still the Oppressor

With a foolish smile

And foolish acts

What a foolish child!

It might be that

In the eyes of the Oppressor

I am an ungrateful child

That eats the food but does not repay back the kindness


Such is the hypocrisy of in between worlds

Alone, lost and confused

I stand adrift

In my little boat

In the ocean of samsara


The sail is torn

The mast is loose

The stern is cracked

The cracks are leaking

The boards are molding


Oh bodhicitta boat

Break not

Don’t break

Until we reach the Other shore


The egotistical fool in me

Thought I could ferry

The Oppressors and the Oppressed

In my little boat


To the Other shore

How foolish!

How can the blind lead the blind?

Let go and find yourself the Way

Only then you can return to fetch

Those who are ready to depart


Oh bodhicitta boat

Break not

Don’t break

Until we reach the Other shore


The winds of time whisper

Ten years took Ulysses

To finally reach Home

See those mermaids


See those sorceresses and nymphs


Watch out for the one-eyed cyclope

The cannibals


You’ll encounter them

Just take heed

Wondering sailor


All things are impermanent


You’ll realize this

Sooner or later

The hypocrisy of in between worlds

Shall cease

Get hold of your little boat

Make repairs if you need

Look into the deep horizon

Can’t you see?

You are not alone

There are many bodhicitta boats

Adrift in the sea

You’ll soon meet them

You can sit, converse and chat

And continue journeying

Towards the Other shore

Life and Death of a New Chinese Bourgeois

blue bird and chinese plum blossom
Blue Bird and Chinese Plum Blossom (Thanks to

New chinese bourgeois

Oh you studied in America?

“The Land of the Free,

Home of the Brave”

Are you brave enough

To stab the Oppressor in you?

Are you Free enough

To realize that you are caged

In a wheel circling endlessly?



You are going to Portugal

To help your mother?

Then here are some words for you

New Chinese bourgeois


Since you’re in Portugal

I’ll speak Portuguese to you:



Nova burguesia Chinesa

Porquê esta frieza

No teu coração

Para os trabalhadores

Que outrora foram

Teus irmãos

Porquê esta fraqueza

Contra a perda da tua riqueza

Que ganhaste
Mentindo e manipulando

As tuas irmãs?



Porquê esta dureza

Nas tuas ordens

Para com os teus subordinados


Considerados por ti


Eles são, por ti

Porque não abres

O teu coração

Para o sofrimento que infliges

Com a tua existência

Olha, estás cego?

À tua frente estão

Os teus irmãos e irmãs

Quase mortos de Espírito

Forçados a uma rotina desuhumana:









Continuando esta routina

Sempre trazendo dinheiro para os teus bolsos

Que prisão de existência é esta

Em que tu fazes de gerente?


Porque é que continuas a ignorar os sinais

Da tua Morte iminente

Cuidado, eles vêm aí para te buscar


Morre esfaqueado


E Acorda finalmente

Dos teus sonhos nublados e pesadelos

Morre, Oppressor, Morre

E Levanta-te de novo

Como Homen Livre

Luta lado a lado

Com os teus irmãos e irmãs

Sofrer juntos

E morrer juntos

Contra este Sistema



Que nos imprisona

A todos

Não ouves os sons do tambor

Do teu coração?

É o som do Amor divino

Da Compaixão

Os três perdidos



E Fraternidade

Já voltaram

Não vês?

Eles já voltaram

Deixa tudo para trás

Juntos marchamos

Juntos marchamos

Para uma nova Revolução!

你来自哪里 (Where are you from)?


 “En Chine...Le gâteau des Rois et... des Empereurs”  This is an illustration from supplement to "Le Petit Journal", 16th January 1898. Wikicommons
“En Chine…Le gâteau des Rois et… des Empereurs” This is an illustration from supplement to “Le Petit Journal”, 16th January 1898. Wikicommons





I have to use the language of the colonizers


Who have oppressed the Chinese

For centuries

Crafty f***ers

First you send


To cleanse the

‘Inferior’ culture

Get hold of Macau

Then you force


“Get those ‘squinty eyes’


If they show any signs of discontent

You bomb them to passive happiness

A little opium ‘high’

Cut a piece of Hong Kong

More of you come

Everybody cuts pieces and pieces

Steaks of influence

You eat as you watch

Our fight against Japan

Let the ‘yellow’ skins fight

Themselves to death

“We’ll come in the end”

Finish the fight

And be labeled as

The ‘World Saviours’

We give them loans

(Shh, with some strings attached)

Change the history

And convince everyone in the world

That the Whites

Are the ‘World Saviours’

No, not the Yellows

No, not the Browns

No, not the Blacks

If any of these native Leaders

Arise and threaten Us

We will do everything in our power

To buy them

If we can’t

Make the world

Hate them

“Dammed Communists”



They should

Die, die!

Burn in Hell

Funny thing

Is that

We are all going to

If we continue this road

Of Hatred, Ignorance and Greed…

(Re)telling the tale of the white parrot

Oh little parrot

Why do you cry?

Asked the Bodhisattva

Although (she/he) already knew the answer


Dear Bodhisattva

While searching for healing fruits

For my sick mother

I have been poached by

By vicious hunters

Now here I am

Prisoner of this golden cage

Forced to sing poetry

And entertain

Officials and the Tang Emperor

When I sing well

They throw me a bowl of cherries

I used to enjoy it

But now I feel like


All the cherries I’ve eaten


I’m sick of this

Please help me Bodhisattva

I want to go home

And see my mother


Oh little parrot

Your filial devotion

Touches my Heart

I’ll free you

Go home

But be ready


I’m home

But where is everyone?


Where is my parrot mother?

Where is she?

Oh no, why?

Why am I

So unfortunate

Not fated to meet my mother again

Death seems less painful

Than my present suffering

So much pain

Stabbing me

I wish I was the one dead

Instead of my beloved ma


Help me Bodhisattva

Please help me

Compassionate One

Please guide me

Ease me from my terrible suffering

Save my mother’s soul


I’m here for you

Little parrot

I’ll assist your parents to Pure Land

Let go of your pain

Worries and worldly desires

And become my disciple


Come to the South Sea

And follow me

Cultivate the Dharma

Dwell in the Prajna-Paramita

Sing if you feel like

Little parrot

Listen with your Heart

Can’t you hear peoples’ cries of suffering?

Your work has just begun

Let go of all

Fly, little parrot, fly

Fly and go ease peoples’ sufferings!



ps. If you would like to read the actual tale just search for “Tale of the Filial Parrot”, it’s an inspiring old Buddhist tale.