What they say

look what they say about her.
It's
gone; all gone.
It was never there.
The
world according to Ego.
She is being driven
to one place
that only
shows the other one, when she gets there.

They are saying she is easy and scandalous but her ego says she's hard and forthright.

Our mind is the same
Our perspective
is different.
The illusion
has her wrapped
in a blanket
against the cold sea's
whispering warm words of
falsehoods
and shallow praise.

A bright one
a comprehensive one
built for the world
offered a drink,
but it's an illusion
a projection
A million dollar investment to a charlatan
that
will
eventually
skip
town.
The ego whispers in her ear to mask
what they say about her.

Her
belief
makes it real.,
and it
is
her obtuse confidant:
the
Ego/herself
that says all this
about her,
anyway.

He was reluctant at first, but now straddled her and camp out just above her lips. His fingers were entwined and rest gently over her forehead. He rubbed it with his thumb and studied her eyes, they blinked and dashed around his. He saw his portrait in them and thought the Buddhist were right 'We are all one' when we look closely in another ones eyes we clearly see ourselves.
He kissed her lips softly and she reach up and pulled his tongue into hers. There was nothing more beautiful; more serene than this moment. He strangled time trying to hold onto it, and she fought back trying not to lose herself...she would win.

I was splayed out over the bed as a friend of mine entered the suite. I had moments ago left him at the club as he danced the night away with an eager woman. My dance partner never materialized this evening and now I was back in the room fighting sleep as he whispered behind me.
"Hey? Hey, you remember that girl I was dancing with?"
"Yea." I mumbled into the pillow.
"She's wasted and she's coming in and she has the other one with her."
"The other one?" He had my attention. This other woman he spoke of. This woman with her was this oversized slot machine that was always willing to pay off. She introduced herself to me on the dance floor and I tried pretending my height, culpled with the music seperated us. I tried to use head shakes and eyebrow touches to get the 53 year old Chester drawer built woman (with all the drawers open) to find a more suitable partner
"I will be over here when you're ready." She said in her drunken-ease as she lumbered towards the middle of the floor and attempted to imitate a bulbous hedge in a stiff breeze.
Before I could locate words they all had emptied themselves into the hotel room and his dancing partner found his bed and past out, and my nightmares were becoming literal as the vicadon popping woman found my bed and began to speak like a thousand pieces of a word puzzle had shattered to the floor...

"Love holds no grievances."












--The Disappearance Of The Universe, Gary R. Renard

Zen Calender

Pain in the knees is the taste of Zazen.

-Yamada Roshi