mystical poetry thread

[ThisLife]

His recent collection of poems, "Book of Longing", shows Leonard Cohen still writing with the old troubadour’s intensity, still sexually alert; but with a depth of thoughtfulness that defies any sense of redundancy in relation to his earlier work. Here’s a characteristically cheeky example called, “Other Writers”:

 

 

*

Steve Sanfield is a great haiku master.
He lives in the country with Sarah,
his beautiful wife,
and he writes about the small things.

Kyozan Joshu Roshi,
who has brought hundreds of monks
to a full awakening,
addresses the simultaneous
expansion and contraction
of the cosmos.

I go on and on
about a noble young woman
who unfastened her jeans
in the front seat of my jeep
and let me touch
the source of life
because I was so far from it.

I’ve got to tell you, friends,
I prefer my stuff to theirs.

 

 

Leonard Cohen

[zerostao]

cohen, eh ?

sure.. i will post 2 i like, the second is a tribute to rhyming simon

i had to review the thread to make sure i hadnt already posted them lol

it isnt that i am fearful of having alzheimers, its just my thoughts can scatter to the abstract lyric

 

 

[mYTHmAKER]

In silence
I am free
from the world
of this dream.

You are the sun.
I am your moon,
full with reflection.

I am alive!

Your love,
the flame in my heart,
will burn forever and ever.

[mYTHmAKER]

Silence.

Soft,
thick,
deep,
dark,
deliberate.
Born
in the interval
of
in breath
and
out breath,
where mind - thought ends.

Centered,
still,
steady,
full,
before beginning,
without end.

Idea,
preceding ‘I’.
Abysmal,
infinite.
A mirror
without reflection,
empty canvas,
whiteness
of paper
enveloping
a poem.

Peaceful,
pregnant,
profound.
Music
of twilight
and dawn.

Knowing,
watching,
waiting,
being.

[Taomeow]

A teacher of writers

has written a book

about the right way to write a novel.

 

He tells those who write

that superfluous phrases

do nothing but take up space.

 

These phrases:

of course/for example/for instance/

at this (or that) point in time/

 

seemed to/in this case/

little did (someone) know/

without a doubt/pretty much/some kind of/

 

unbeknownst to (whomever)/

I can honestly say/

disappear or vanish from sight or view/

 

happens to be/such as it was (or is)/

be that as it may/as a matter of fact/

-- are nothing but wind and chatter.

 

I pity the typing monkeys

forbidden to chatter.

I pity the wind

 

that's stopped from flapping

the tongue of the sail

in rhythmic pursuits of its story.

 

I pity the students,

I pity the teacher,

I'm actually, none the less, incidentally,

 

killing my hero today, pretty much.

He whispers, "oh no..." As a matter of fact,

I'm writing a merciless novel.

 

A learned parrot whose wings have been clipped

will stumble on every page,

will cough disapproval

 

through beakfuls of dust

from towers of Babel exploding

at this (or that) point in time.

Edited January 26, 2015 by Taomeow

[Captain Mar-Vell]

...

I would have made this poem shorter.

But I had no time.

...

[mYTHmAKER]

There’s more
to me
than meets
the eye.
I am all
that is,
was,
and ever
will be;
the observer,
and
the observed.

I am
everywhere;
invisible,
silent,
veiled,
as light in day,
dark in night,
blue in sky,
green in grass.

Intellects
with
machines
of science,
think
they can
possess me,
make me
perceptible,
perceivable,
explainable,
containable,
document me
on tape.

 

Scientists
merely appear,
to peel
away layers,
to catch
my secret.

I accommodate
all theories;
for some
I am only
in special places,
for others
I don’t exist.

To find me,
go within
your heart;
meditate
and
know I
am
everywhere.

[zerostao]

[Cookie Monster]

.

Edited May 4, 2021 by Ocean Form

[Taomeow]

And then I surprised him by saying,

"Ninety percent of our poetry

is Provençal, is about the love

of lovers united or else separated,

 

but ninety percent of Chinese

classical poetry is about friendship,

friends lost and found, reuniting or parting,

it was that important

to poets of China."

 

He asked me, "Well, how do you know?"

I told him, "I'll send you the book."

 

I'll send him the book

but I can't send him love

or friendship. I'll send him the book.

[mYTHmAKER]

Everyone
knows
a cloud
can never
attach itself
to the earth
no
matter
how
hard
it
tries,
and
a mountain
can never
float
in the sea
or
the heavens
for
all
it’s
desire.

So
why
do we
insist
on
pissing
into the wind
when
we can
reach God
by simply
turning around?

[Taomeow]

you'll keep running

down the longest, most tedious of staircases

entertaining yourself with the arrogant song of your heels

that keep drumming into every step,

"immortal, immortal, immortal!"

[PLB]

The student returning completes the lesson.

Sharp points that cannot join.

I mingle amongst them with a learned smile.

[mYTHmAKER]

Yes it’s true.

I’ve heard whispers,
and
there’s always
room for rumors.

You say
I write a good game,
all this
holy crap;
you’ve seen me
in action,
and
I don’t always
do as I should,
and
you heard
about.....

Do you know
how this makes
me feel?

God knows I try.

Please remember
I’m only
a poet saint
in training.
 

[Unseen_Abilities]

So relevant to me right now, mYTHmAKER.

[Unseen_Abilities]

Vampire, Holy Vampire!

Free to exist in a Females LOVE - I’m me in here tonight. FIRE and nothing seen. Vampire, Holy *LOVE HEART* Vampire! 

Fire on the Devil - #1 Rebel Pilgrim 2 - A an pleasing pleasing mic. Vampire, Holy Vampire! is #3. The Chronicles Alive! Living in the perfect  home, with Money, Love or Fantasy in FREAK.et.EXACTLY in the most right TEHEHE VAMPIRE, HOLY VAMPIRE!!!

With women now I’ve had the pain of people - evil and extreme in number. evil evil PAY! EEEEeeee…

Fire on the Devil? Rebel Pilgrim?! VAMPIRE, HOLY VAMPIRE!!! 

Vampire, Holy Vampire! With a kiss I leave my Girlfriends 2 adorn my skin with rugged scarlet and exit out the door; FIRE, EXTREME! Life against all odds!  Rebel Pilgrim I became, only to experience the soul *love heart* EXTREME! My Fajer my WORLD is not man - Vampire, Holy Vampire!  On through our most Satanic World I’ve walked for long - most late as The Rebel Pilgrim, Fire Soul and Death Priest - look, time to Die! Vampire, Holy Vampire! Fire on the Eca. ERA 1 complete, and left to Sacred Chaos. Vampire, Holy Vampire! 

Nuon, Ficis! Nuon.

Locked and left with with a Gnostic Cross.sealed to my heart and soul and willed to be and is Divine!

END: DIE!!

[liminal_luke]

The Conditional

 

 

Say tomorrow doesn’t come.
Say the moon becomes an icy pit.
Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified.
Say the sun’s a foul black tire fire.
Say the owl’s eyes are pinpricks.
Say the raccoon’s a hot tar stain.
Say the shirt’s plastic ditch-litter.
Say the kitchen’s a cow’s corpse.
Say we never get to see it: bright
future, stuck like a bum star, never
coming close, never dazzling.
Say we never meet her. Never him.
Say we spend our last moments staring
at each other, hands knotted together,
clutching the dog, watching the sky burn.
Say, It doesn’t matter. Say, That would be
enough. Say you’d still want this: us alive,
right here, feeling lucky.

 

 

Ada Limon

 

[liminal_luke]

Ok...mystical or not I´m not sure, but I wanted to share this poem by James Broughton.

 

Autobiography

 

I took a sharp look
I took a long prowl
I questioned the serpent
I questioned the owl
I called up the mayor
I called on the sage
I tried reading Proust
I tried life on the stage
I went into therapy
I went out for sports
I suffered every ailment
from sniffles to warts
I went to the dogs
I went to the Pope
I climbed Annapurna
I fasted on dope
I dug up the desert
I delved in the sea
But nowhere I looked
could I recognize me

So eventually I
had to give up my plan
of escape to Siam
and accept myself here
just as I am

 

But it wasn’t easy

 

James Broughton.

Edited April 20, 2015 by liminal_luke

[zerostao]

[Taomeow]

As you pour yourself a scotch,
crush a roach, or scratch your crotch,
as your hand adjusts your tie,
people die.

In the towns with funny names,
hit by bullets, caught in flames,
by and large not knowing why,
people die.

In small places you don't know
of, yet big for having no
chance to scream or say good-bye,
people die.

People die as you elect
new apostles of neglect,
self-restraint, etc. –whereby
people die.

Too far off to practice love
for thy neighbor, brother Slav,
where your cherubs dread to fly,
people die.

While the statues disagree,
Cain's version, history
for its fuel tends to buy
those who die.

As you watch the athletes score,
check your latest statement, or
sing your child a lullaby,
people die.

Time, whose sharp bloodthirsty quill
parts the killed from those who kill,
will pronounce the latter band
as your brand.

 

Joseph Brodsky

 

[Daeluin]

Treasure a handful of dirt from your home,

But love not ten thousand taels of foreign gold.

 

 

西遊記

[9th]

thirsting for blood

and vengeance

crocodile crest and lion's breast 

on a big fat hippo's ass

hard heart-fed and gorged 

in a shower of feathers

lighter than air

but full of gravity

and yet still weightless

still drifting

still less

ness

 

 

 

[Silent Answers]

Back for more...

 

My, my,

It really is all illusion

I am

Just an organism

Bathed in vibration

Makin' noise

Slowly slippin'

Out of rhythm

 

I am

The can't be handled

Extra party perspective

Looking up

From the tip

To below

As One

The collective

 

Magnetize Me

In between

Two halves

Where it seams

Like endless streams

And you might

Catch a glimpse

 

Pole dancer

Spinning lies

Leading

Double lives

Trick up

The sleeve

Always

Out of site

[9th]

a tap on the shoulder

in the corner of your eye

a glimpse 

from where you come

to where you go

when the lights go out

and your time runs down

into the gateless gate

of the endless end

and the birth of infinity

realm by realm

one by one

by one

[Taomeow]

“Birds flying high above the retreating army!
Why do you suddenly turn and head toward our enemy,
contrary to the clouds? We are not yet defeated, are we?
True, we are scattered, but we still have some energy.”

 

“Because your numbers diminish. You are less fit to listen
to our songs. You are no more an audience.
Vultures swoop in to replace us, and Valkyries. And the eastern
wind slams the fir horizons like jagged accordions.”

 

“Cuneiform of the beaks! Explosions that sprout a palm tree!
Your tunes will be blown out of the sky, too, by the screaming westerly.
We commit them to memory, which is a larger country.
Nobody knows the future, but there is always yesterday.”

 

“Ye-ah! but our life span’s shorter. There is no tomb or pyre
for our kind, but chamomile, clover, chicory,
thyme. Your valedictory runs ‘Fire! fire! fire!’
We are less comprehensible. That’s why we need a victory.”

 

-- Joseph Brodsky

Edited July 5, 2015 by Taomeow