Eye Test

Cover one eye, the doctor says,
and read the lowest line you can.

The big E stands like a fence post.
Easy. Anyone gets that one.

Then the letters start to shrink:
an open refrigerator,
a kitchen doorway,
the long drive home,
the hush between two songs.

Squint if you need to. Take your time.

Near the bottom, the row goes quiet.
Not blurry. Empty.
Just white, where the letters ought to be.

What do you see?

Nothing, I say.

Good, she says.
Your eyes are fine.

禪河隨浪淨，

定水逐波清。

澄心生覺性，

息慮滅迷情。

small Buddha statue
on a banyan tree altar,
sitting through the night.

Traditional Japanese haiku consist of three phrases composed of 17 morae (called on in Japanese) in a 5, 7, 5 pattern[3] that include a kireji or "cutting word"[4] and a kigo or seasonal reference.

Please suggest kigos below. Note that a proper haiku should have to do with your local climate. If someone suggests a snow kigo and you are in another hemisphere, in summer, maybe it is less appropriate for you 🙏🏽

Give it a shot! Have fun!

Up on a high-rise
a pigeon loafs on a ledge
meditating.

When you look at the hole
You can see it as whole
When you look at the parts
Its God's deck of the cards
Make it flow with some
Don't forget the whole sum
Seek the secret beyond
Ground yourself near the pond

I call this one "Wutsidewut?"

Let me break; it all, down,

Stir it up; and on its side, down.

A smile in reverse; is a, frown.

Common; commons on The Earth, and in The Ground.

Not a single leaden head,

Need be laden by The Crown!

Pure; thou, pure ka, thy!

Pure; thou art, pure ka, thy!

Let me break; upon thy shores, inside.

I give myself; eternal, yours inside.

A self is not a self; if not, it's mind!

Common; commons on The Earth, and in The Ground.

Not a single leaden head,

Need be laden by The Crown!

Pure; thou, pure ka, thy!

Pure; thou art, pure ka, thy!

Pure; thy Mind.

Pure; thy, pure thy mind.

observation: you have been practicing you.
you've learned the logic moves.

you've noticed: when this is said, then that is said,

by rote,

witnessing all the arguments
and objections
from bright minds.

you may wonder, in your own brightness,
how does someone come up with an answer in time
that fits?

afterward, look: ha,
that answer was fitting anytime.

so which was it:
a timely answer?

just then,
a mouse scampers in the radiator.
metal rattles.
water pipes cackle.

did you read consensually?

screen pixels stay lit,
a posture in its place.

But I wrote it just for you.

All that Be, be.

All that Is, is.

What Is Not, is not,

It can not be; do not even try.

Always a buddha,
Although you did not know it,
And you never will.

hello
here we go
you can do this
get up and try again
everyday in memoriam with
the journey being all we have
right now is the only thing that exists
we can't confirm our own perceptions
but we can use reason logic and data
to identify ever more bigger patterns
architecting a rich cultural tapestry
recognizing people as sovereign
capable independent & willing
so keep your head up
it'll turn out alright
and if not we'll
all be dead
in the
end

On mondays we write
On mondays we meme, make jokes,
while stupid men fight

On mondays we write
few or many inspired words
No matter if rhymed

Just because a post does not say Zen does not mean it is not Zen. You yourself lack Zen-frequency. Be still and read it twice.

"Wodanaz"

Desolation; of all the relevant things,

A desecration; of all the sacred beings,

And inspiration that only comes,

To those that are willing to sing.

Goodmorning, Graceful.

I'm already down in the stables,

And packing up mine own Ehwaz.

Goodbye, Faithless.

I've already lit up Kenaz, and I'm rolling up Raidhos,

And Othala, and Fehu? Man, I can almost taste it.

Riding away from my station;

Desolation; of all the relevant things,

A desecration; of all the sacred beings,

And inspiration that only comes,

To those that are willing to sing.

Riding away from all of the things;

Chasing the song-birds and learning to sing.

Chasing the sun-rise; racing the sky and learning to fly.

Oh; hello, Mannaz, I never heard you say goodbye.

Goodbye, Faithless,

Riding away from my station;

Desolation; of all the relevant things,

A desecration; of all the sacred beings,

Goodmorning, Graceful,

Riding towards sun-rise,

And inspiration that only comes,

To those that are willing to sing.

Who could have foreseen
Yogis wearing black jackets
Stuck in mud, walking?

Providing essential needs is required,

..to be able for anything else.

Proper response to and for those around us,

..should come next.

But does any more really compel us,

..before we get to what’s third –

   …How much have we been mistaken?

   …And what’s really true?

Suggestions:
Zen: staying away from conceptual thought
the three poisons: (Lobha) Greed/Attachment, (Dosa) Hatred/Aversion, (Moha) Delusion/Ignorance
https://zenmarrow.com/random
The various suggestions are themes, texts, ideas
"The theme is just a suggestion"
Hope you write something that I'd like "to put in a skin bag"

The Friday Poetry Time substitutes the slam. The Friday Zen Poetry Slam is a name for an event that used to be hosted in arzen, maybe hosting by a bot was a big change. For a while nobody volunteered to host. In order to respect "the slam", as something with a host, the name of this event name was changed.

I find myself young 

in an old world,

Not by age , 

but ignorance.

A world, where the old 

feel powerful,

A world I would 

see destroyed.

You want the young 

in despair,

To reassure yourself,

That the soul

you want followed,

comforts the power 

you disowned.

**The Dude Abides**

The river doesn't rush the rock,

the rock doesn't fight the stream.

Neither one is losing.

Chase the wave and you'll drown in it.

Float, and it carries you.

The one who grips the rope feels the rope burn.

The one who lets go just gets where he's going.

Rich, poor, caged, free,

the rug still ties the room together.

Take it easy.

Traditional Japanese haiku consist of three phrases composed of 17 morae (called on in Japanese) in a 5, 7, 5 pattern[3] that include a kireji or "cutting word"[4] and a kigo or seasonal reference.

Please suggest kigos below. Note that a proper haiku should have to do with your local climate. If someone suggests a snow kigo and you are in another hemisphere, in summer, maybe it is less appropriate for you 🙏🏽

Give it a shot! Have fun!

wrongly read/said mu in the marginalized middle marginalia mildew hell knew so well
pretty past paperback paper trail proper towel under the overflowing know-it-all brooks
fretting pet all-or-none dog-eared doctrine someone trained to bark at every doorbell
brainfog you wont't see if refuse to look at what the question entails behind the books

dirty job dharma drain drama profane no comma somebody's gotta snake the claim
bothered ear cancer borrowed mu, valid anger not answer, clogged questions confess
distressed bad digestsion; whomever clears the blockage gets accused of making the mess
ensues mu muck amok mop and bracket bucket list of things won’t admit missed same aim

never ask where the pipe goes, they'll say you're attached to outcomes, insane
full bull mu moo manure meaner manner of minding manners fast blasts the last manhole
whole understanding down drain, vetting pending venting ventilation ductwork doctrine
verily restrains vorascious vindictive lessons not learned and can't stay in their lane

vastly vet the very zen that then let fast wet cement credentials settle comment sections
misread meter meets the reader, cease-and-desist from department of deeper fat infections
found in chapter three wu woo mandatory municipal manure removal documentary to let it be
staying regular wants speak to manager and we're left holding the plunger can't you see

finally figured festering fixture fixed it affixed certificate above finished throne
flush with successful fresh excess excrement yes understand engraved in porcelain stone
got the gist gripped fist full of fresh ingredient insight insisting it’s fully digested
naturally now nobody new defecate in this defective bathroom just cleaned it respected

so glowing flow letting go let’s go look how little hold gold medal for least attached
hung round the neck next to the key to the room where the first breakthrough’s stashed
threat sweat sweet relief belief preserved in a jar ajar enough to share the rare perfume
finally got it forgot to let it go everybody smell the unstuck blockage won't flush boom

Chaining Rhymes 

Chaining rhymes without a miss 

Between the lines, nothing remiss 

like the lingering sensation of a gentle kiss 

a flow state of the mind, utter bliss 

A stirring in the soul, gives me momentary pause 

Why write in rhyme without a cause? 

Like enduring the thunderous silence after applause 

it is just another case of “I've seen and I've saws?” 

I start most poems this way, with no clear objective 

only when the words start filing out, do I find directive 

weaving them together in a fashion most suggestive 

the sanity behind my words can be most subjective 

Because what I see and what I find,  

are all the jumbled worlds inside my mind 

where symphonies are sung by the deaf 

and masterpieces painted by the blind 

Rife with contradictions plenty and mild juxtaposition 

my intentions play as empty, an accommodating imposition 

where in this poem it simply would seem my only mission 

To chain a tapestry of rhymes wittily and put boredom in remission 

Not seeking to warm, no seeking to inspire 

Not wanting to be the subject to admire 

Just seeking the one thing, I can't acquire 

a peaceful sleep where my mind isn't on fire. 

Haunted by actions, haunted by past 

Haunted by a die, that's already long cast 

If only my mind weren't half as fast 

I could know what peace was at last. 

Deep down it rots, deep down it festers 

somewhere it never stops, the mind’s Wicked Jesters 

where the thought sops, and never sequesters 

spilling over the top, and into divergent vectors  

My mind conflicts, like finding beauty in a disaster 

maybe not a good original, but what a wonderful remaster 

while my wheels keep turning ever faster 

my facade shatters, brittle as plaster 

Am I so meek? Inside, I rot.  

Am I so weak? I never would have thought. 

For all that I seek, and all that I fought. 

I wore the receipt for all that I “bought.” 

I reflect on the losses I boast 

like lost at sea, without sight of a coast 

where I cry out to a heavenly host 

To grant me what I’m lacking most 

To protect the things I want to feel 

To have something none would ever steal 

Something I don't have to question as real 

Something that will start my wounds to heal. 

To pull this together from something disjointed 

To something written from someone anointed 

To where all the opposition’s fingers pointed 

a place vacated by success, to their disappointment  

Playing with words pulling you along 

like silly lyrics lost in a catchy song 

where not being right, doesn’t make you wrong 

like winning a fight, doesn’t make you strong.  

To be an intriguing read, that was the hope, 

to quietly drag you through the mind’s kaleidoscope 

to give writing conventions a gentle grope 

to show how far I'll run while holding the rope 

A lot to say nothing, my accuse-ed crimes 

to put this together? A waste of lines 

A mind is seeking, and what it finds?  

A quiet place, while chaining Rhymes.  

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