How absurd is consciousness seeking Purpose?
Isn’t that the spectacle of Life?
Sometimes I laugh
Sometimes I cry
Crave, Hate
All enveloped in that
Spectacle of
light and dark
Oh the absurdity of my Act!
I act and Laugh
As I continue to perform
The never-ending Act zero
Tag: existential
What am I?
What am I?
I ask myself
Flowing with life
~
I am not a writer
I lack wisdom to teach
Though I observe
Anthropologist I am not
Discipline I lack
To become a real researcher
I am active but not really an activist
I care but I am not a social worker
Connecting people I like
But community organizer I am not
I can take some photographs
But photographer I am not
I like to paint
But not really an artist
I can dance sometimes
Though bboy I am not
I enjoy playing with words
But poet I am not
~
What? What am I then?
I ask myself
Contemplating life unfolding
~
Am I that tiny little bird that sings perched on a blossoming plum tree?
Am I that tree that stands facing the unforgiving change of seasons?
Am I that clinging leaf that falls while pondering its impermanence?
Oh Mother Earth are you going to embrace me soon?
Am I that tingling morning dew dripping into the eternal river
That flows and flows through
Mountains and valleys and plains
To finally empty itself into the Sea
~
What? I am nothing really?
Nothing?
I must be something
Hm maybe I am nothing yet something at the same time
I don’t know
I am quite confused
~
Oh! Perhaps I am a confused bird singing perched on a blossoming plum tree with leaves filled with dew dripping into the eternally flowing river flowing towards the Sea emptying itself…
Oh I see you now ego! It’s nice to meet you my dear ego trying to be someone, to become something darn we do have a long journey ahead and lots of suffering on its way so let us wish ourselves a bon voyage towards the Sea it’s going to be a rough ride home
streaming from a humble Chinese restaurant
I the ungrateful child of a restaurant have searched all around the world for solutions to my sufferings and I have been propelled back to you time after time until I finally realize that I failed to be grateful to you dear humble restaurant you are like my mother and father you have given me a roof a shelter you have given me food and nourished me to become who I am today you have sent me to school to college and traveling all around the world and here I am back to you my dear humble Chinese restaurant with all your flaws and imperfections please forgive me in failing to appreciate you the smell of stir fried oil the brothers and sisters within you who cook and serve all the customers that stop by for Chinese food please forgive me that I didn’t appreciate your blood sweat and tears dripped into the plates of food that you serve I know you have your own flaws but you are what you are as of now you might be part of a capitalist system that exploits its workers and condemns them to lots of suffering but I know you will be continuing your process of self-actualization and I know you will change someday somehow because you have too in order to survive and sustain yourself so let us be here and now and I am no longer shameful to say I love you and I am part of you and we shall never be separated my dear humble Chinese restaurant you are me and I am you in an imperfect world seeking transformation so I shall continue my journey flowing filled with love your bird child
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
Together
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
Beware
See those sorceresses and nymphs
Beware
Watch out for the one-eyed cyclope
The cannibals
Serpents
You’ll encounter them
Just take heed
Wondering sailor
~~~
All things are impermanent
Indeed
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
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?
.
What?
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:
.
Estimada,
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?
Porquê?
Porquê esta dureza
Nas tuas ordens
Para com os teus subordinados
Objetos
Considerados por ti
Dominados
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:
Acordar,
Trabalhar,
Comer,
Trabalhar,
Comer,
Dormir,
Acordar,
Presos,
Continuando esta routina
Sempre trazendo dinheiro para os teus bolsos
Que prisão de existência é esta
Em que tu fazes de gerente?
Porquê?
Porque é que continuas a ignorar os sinais
Da tua Morte iminente
Cuidado, eles vêm aí para te buscar
.
Morre esfaqueado
Oppressor!
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
Vicioso
Caprichoso
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
Liberdade,
Igualdade,
E Fraternidade
Já voltaram
Não vês?
Eles já voltaram
Deixa tudo para trás
Juntos marchamos
Juntos marchamos
Para uma nova Revolução!
How Can I Not?
Time has passed by
Like a gust of wind
A bird gets ready to fly
Oh so hard it is
To say goodbye
Oh attachments
To home and not-home
Is it still home?
Where the heart still longs
For something
Timeless
Long gone
Truth?
It might be
That this precious Truth
Is right here
Next to me
How painful it is
That I can’t see?
Some people
Call it Love
But I can’t feel it
Perhaps a little sprout
Deeply planted
In layers and layers
Of illusive existence
How can I accept an illusory role
Prescribed by a system
Engineered to keep me
A passive victim
That blindly and silently
Follows
What others are expecting
‘Me’
To do?
What is ‘Me’?
I am my mother
My father
Brothers and sisters
Ancestors
Creators of my kinship
I am more than my blood
I am the tree that I used to love
I am the river that I used to swim
I am the clouds that I used to dream
I am earth mother desperately crying for help
I am heavenly father who gave me a soul and guides me with Love
How can I accept
Seeing ‘me’
All my loved ones
Trapped in illusion
Delusion
Karmic sea of Suffering?
How can I not
Attempt to find a way out?
How can I not?
Build a boat
Search and wander in the sea
To finally find a ferryman
Who agrees
To take me to the other shore
Oh that sweet home
Where the heart longs no more
Where home is here
There
Everywhere
Nowhere
At the same time
If I do reach my destination
You will see
That you are ‘me’
Simply Free
You will realize
That indeed
You have agency
To build your own boat
Search and wander
Meet your ferryman
And see ‘me’
On the other shore
True Home this is
Where the heart longs no more.
Quando cantas, pequeno pássaro? (When will you sing, little bird?)
Em Março toda a acção se junta
Na Primavera o tempo pergunta
Quando cantas, pequeno pássaro Buddha?
O Inverno tem sido muito frio
A tua voz o mundo necessita
Agora só se escuta
O rugido do vento da Morte
Que ceifa vidas
Dos fracos e dos fortes
Pessoas que ainda não ouviram a tua doce voz do Dharma.
Ouve-se o assobio das bombas que caem
Os gritos da Terra violada
O disparo dos tiros que cortam o choro das crianças inocentes
Rasgando os coracões dos seus parentes
Como se vive sem coração?
Quão grande será o sofrimento destes pais culpados?
Que vivem mais tempo que os seus pequenos
Como se libertarão das cicatrizes de uma esterilização forçada?
Como se liberatarão da raiva?
Da vontade de retribuição
De mais e mais sofrimento no ciclo da existência
Como se libertarão?
Só a tua doce voz do Dharma…
Só a tua doce voz do Dharma…
Em Março toda a acção se junta
Na Primavera o tempo pergunta
Quando cantas, pequeno pássaro Buddha?
Dharma como fruta se madura
Para chegar a Primavera
Três estações se espera
Para o brilho da Lua Cheia
Três fases se transforma
Para o caminho a Deus começar
Sete pecados mortais se expia
Para o Buddha em si acordar
As quatro Nobres Verdades se internaliza
Para a Lótus de Oito Pétalas se abrir
O Caminho Óctuplo se pratica
Lá dentro
O pequeno pássaro Buddha espera…
Em Março toda a acção se junta
Na Primavera o tempo pergunta
Quando cantas, pequeno pássaro Buddha?
Em Março
Primavera chega
Dharma madura
Lua Cheia brilha
O caminho a Deus começa
Buddha acorda
A Lótus de Oito Pétalas abre
E o pequeno pássaro Buddha canta!
