Published: 22 September 2025

Buddha told me today

you have to lose everything to gain it all
you got to tear it down—use a wrecking ball
kiss the dust, make new concrete
whatever you consume, you must excrete
the terms are known, you are edible
whatever you purchase will soon be landfill
your shopping cart illusion will never be full

you have to fail to be complete, you have to fall
to land on your feet, you have to have secrets
to be indiscrete, there must be luxury when people
live in the street, you got ivory? an elephant
died, you got pain? you got pride, no complaint
you got no say, there’s a reason we’re living
dreams from yesterday, let me say it clearly
anything you want you will pay for dearly
you must lose it all to love your sincerity
don’t close your eyes if you want to see with clarity

More Poetry:

Visit from the mother

Mother hummingbird,
pray perch on subtle twig of lilac,
wise to trust, or so I tell myself,
pirouette so I may admire electric green

River of paper

River of paper flows beneath my every word,
where would my thoughts be but for this substrate?

How Shall We Sing The Lord’s Song In A Strange Land?

variation on psalm 137, By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat
hands drumming on ribs, feet, the ground,
the mouths of pots and guns beckon,
the wind, the clouds, are the sight of sound
to the deaf, the foreign, the prisoner.
This bridge is the harp hung across
the tears of our sorrow. Each life

Everyone wants to love me

Everyone wants to fall in love with me.
I know it.
The guy in the lineup
who waved the cucumber at me
and said, I could hit you with this
was really saying he loves me.

what is it you don’t get?

based on psalm 83 ”Keep not thou silence, O God” KJV
if you don’t want to talk it’s not all right by me
I would really appreciate a moment of your time
as I am listening to more hatred, than those who
hate you can raise, lousy lizard heads, how they despise you

Related

How Shall We Sing The Lord’s Song In A Strange Land?

How Shall We Sing The Lord’s Song In A Strange Land?

variation on psalm 137, By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat
hands drumming on ribs, feet, the ground,
the mouths of pots and guns beckon,
the wind, the clouds, are the sight of sound
to the deaf, the foreign, the prisoner.
This bridge is the harp hung across
the tears of our sorrow. Each life

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