Reality bag to boot,
and don’t try to gaslight me,
you tin can,
you person with a limited worldview.
I’m a marshmallow?
I’m starin’ down your throat.
How would you tell the unevolved ape he’s sorry,
the animal on pedestals
we’re sure we’re at?
I don’t think this is off the press yet:
the animals we are we don’t see.
Our understanding’s dim.
Our understanding’s wrong.
Everything you see is a placeholder
for a deeper reality.
We take the surface act as true.
Hidden deep within
are the origins of the outer scene.
Watch them rise,
if you can interpret dream.
Where does this knowledge bring us?
The field today
an inner necessity.
My that hurts.
My that’s brown,
and we see the origin of evil
in the clash of forces that make a universe,
nothingness made alive
and its answer to its painful start.
We have to see this to be made whole,
to put darkness from us
and bring in light.
Yours is the surface view,
reality in tatters,
the clash of individuals
that makes the human field.
You want to heal from wrong
done to you?
Open up the availability of Earth inside of you,
and that is spiritual process,
and I’m speaking from that place now.
How deep inside yourself you have to go to find healing.
It’s one with world act.
It’s one with universal means.
Okay silence me now
I am not in individual shares?
I stand on the function of reality?
I want accountability for reality?
I see the larger picture?
I think we can heal better than we do?
I see healing as an operation of oneness?
I don’t see an absolute separation between perpetrator and victim
in the area of wrongdoing?
Is this state of the art,
your method of dealing with this,
your crack on the wall?
Let’s break that wall down
and recover healing.
Is that is your mission today,
or is it all about accountability and identity of the individual?
You good there,
or are you cutting off your nose to spite your face?
Peter Parker
knows the score.
He’s an actor for a larger reality than his.
Buddhist reasoning throws it all away,
every bit of reality.
Merge in some distant Absolute,
and we’re done,
never mind the compassionate vow.
It’s all an illusion.
Can you get healing that way:
it don’t matter?
Throw on the world’s shoes
when faced with crisis,
is that what you’re doin’ here?
No, only talk about survivors and accountability.
Is this a Buddhist precept?
Is it in the jaws of enlightenment?
A reduced goal
in this examination Buddhist wounds.
What is the larger context?
A path to enlightenment.
Is that an impossible goal?
Has that happened to anyone?
Momentarily yes me,
and even people in the permanent state,
more than a few,
less than many.
Survivors of sexual abuse,
that’s the Buddha’s role,
that’s everything grist for the mill?
Supposed to go back home.
The ground nature of reality,
the emptiness of the I,
the way back in there from the world,
the complete absorption
in infinity,
the oneness that begets everything,
that’s cry wolf?
Wow, suppressed realities,
can we call them in the world today?
Visibility
exploded into silence
in this decade.
I expect full censorship.
Practice ill will on people and I’ll persist,
and it’s the closest thing
tellin’ people to be quiet.
When I read a paper,
and it’s just rose-colored glasses
the wearer’s wearin’ on themself,
I fill my room with creativity
in order that you might see better.
Confounded me,
I see myself better.
Is that the osprey?
An adult woman went public with a story of being a victim of sexual abuse so to get accountability from the organization where she was a novice in training to be a Buddhist nun. Her alleged abuser was her immediate teacher, an ordained Buddhist nun. She shares her story on YouTube and on a Buddhist-oriented website as an open letter.
It bears noting that they voluntarily left the monastery they were at in order to live together as a lesbian couple, which they did for some time, and that twice supervisors at the monastery asked the novice about the nature of the relationship between her and the nun, and she lied and said it was nonsexual, and that she was initiating their secret meetings in the forest for extra help in her studies. The former novice is framing the story in terms of and in the language of the Me Too movement, in terms of the individuality of human actors and not of holism.
The poem above is written to the owner of that website, who answered all the comments left for the former novice. The poem below is written to the former novice, and the website owner deleted it when I posted it. He also deleted a prose comment I posted in reply to his deletion of my poem and about the restrictions he placed on comments to her story. The above poem came the day after the poem below, before I knew he’d deleted the poem below, and I decided not to even try to post it and posted a prose comment instead, which, as I explained, also got deleted, what the above poem predicts, “full censorship.”
Rebirth
Precepts open home,
watch that public sharing.
Are you a freight train?
Whose right are you on?
You’re voicin’ grievances.
That’s for your benefit or ours?
Are you in the halls of social media for self-improvement?
Have you gathered the whole of us
in everything you think and do,
in every minute of your worldview?
Where is lone on moon,
where you make us better with your speech?
Exploratory has consequences
when it’s wanted redress for wrong
and not to shoulder humanity.
I’m a samsara of wrongs committed.
I want to reach healing’s reach.
I’m a product of fellatio in infancy.
My mom and her mouth,
the power was undeniable,
but the demon in the room had more,
my imaginary playmate I saw and felt.
His reality would change the stars,
and evil would have a new name:
we are its boxers not its originators.
How deep do you go?
You are a surface act in time?
No whole moves your ship?
We are alone individuals
on the inside,
left to make or break in matter’s wall?
We all heave to the same will,
and it’s only half our own.
We are a collective fist,
but who is personally responsible?
My mother was not all the game,
but I need her help to heal,
and she did that reluctantly.
Oh my God was I a baby to blame?
This is all torn up,
what deep necessity of being causes harm.
I think the religions say it:
the world is a redemption;
we are not here just to be animals in springtime;
we have a responsibility to our Earth
to overcome ourselves,
to get bigger than what we are,
to heal our broken wounds.
Okay there is no continuity of this self
other than the atoms’ flow,
or a speakeasy in time
we continually visit with every beat of our heart.
Even without that booger,
variability of soul evolving through lifetimes,
you can grasp yourself and heal,
let the sun shine in,
but I am a booger eater let me tell you,
and I graph on a sense of humor
to this gravity of being.
What deep necessity of soul,
or world process art,
has picked up your aspiration and thrown it in the dirt?
It is only a variety of evil,
whatever clothes it may wear?
Can you get the jump on it?
Have you been waylaid in your spiritual process
to find another,
or have you been challenged in the depths of yourself
to come up with a better plan
than the ego is leader of life,
and violating it determines all?
Do you hear the magic horn
crossing thresholds
and putting light on the subject?
Will you hear anybody at all
who comes up with another plan
than spilling this out to the world,
every detail you can think of,
to give your innocence in all this
and us say yes, yes,
get at them boogers?
Ride literary.
