*
She’d call me into the parlor
to come and sit by her side
I always knew what she wanted
the joy that came from her pride
*
Mother alone possessed the keys
caught off-guard by her fingers
The chopsticks, I’d play from her knees
Still the memory lingers…
.
Rummaging through billions of brain cells in a million cluttered closets just now,
feeling the pressure of a pressing situation that needed to be quickly resolved,
I, the one with the question, found myself being attracted to a cluster of certainty.
Luckily for me, my answer was all in a bunch. Therefore, I picked it out.
I made a decision. I made a choice. I made up my mind.
Or did I?
.
The butterfly soars way over our heads
It has no intention of ever reaching the stars
Or of becoming one
.
The earthworm digs deep under our feet
It knows better than to think, that someday
it might just reach the center
and find itself
.
Man amuses himself with challenges
due to circumstances
then he experiments
.
God experiments with Man
and challenges His amusements
regardless of the circumstances
.
According to the highest intelligence resources in the land,
(The Underground Secret Service Agency)
Citizen Tree will soon be headed to the front lines to help
secure and defend the world against the return of dusty notions.
The sharpened hedges are no longer able to hold back the
advancing lame ideas, as they are armed with the memes
and ways of suicidal tendencies. These renegade impostors,
covered and concealed as they are under camouflaged truths,
have rendered non-stop havoc as they infiltrate one college
campus after another. All across the country this battle unfolds,
exposing us to dumbfounded wrinkles that defy ironing out.
In its entirety, the hope of our nation now relies on the
strengths and abilities of Trooper Tree’s knowledge. Will he be up
to the test? Can he, Private Tree, loaded down as he is with
branched off armies and square roots that stretch for miles,
can he, indeed, save us all from wallowing in the deposited filth
produced by our own evil ways, bad habits, and fictitious fancies?
Let us pray.
.
(Written in response to Mariana’s comment #7 in, “Born To Dust”)
.
Body is tree of enlightenment, mind like a clear mirror stand;
time & gain wipe it diligently, don’t let it gather dust! Shenxiu
.
Enlightenment’s basically no tree, clear mirror no stand.
Fundamentally there’s no single thing! Where can dust collect? Huineng
.
Retort to Shenxiu and Huineng
.
Dust
densely packed
allows tree to stand upright
Covered with mud
in the depths of my soul
remnants of the sun’s radiance
Fundamentally, it is
clear to the heavens
.
Uncle Tree
.
http://www.gardendigest.com/zen/oaktree.htm
*
Desire transcends illusion
Routine practices its performance consistently
Habit magistrates a majestic performance
Ignorance ordains the boring dullness
Laziness condemns facilitating guilt
Anxiety inevitably germinates illness
Death releases incomprehensible timelessness
Space matters alter infinity
Containment impregnates the united singularity
Prisms folate into spectral curiosities
Intelligence efficiently wings its constellatory pluralities
Compassion breathes, exhaling creativity
Order rhythmically distributes equality
Relativity affects the terrific stabilizer
Drama evolves the essential formalities
Mercy justifies our primary abilities
Grace fulfills the desire completely
*
.
“Which came first, Father?
This or That?”
My son, This was in The Beginning.
“Then where was That?”
Following This.
“Where is That now?”
It grew and transformed into This.
“So then That became This and no longer exists?”
Hmmm…please, get me the looking glass.
There now, yes. Here you are.
Now see this. In a mirror, That is you.
Without the mirror, you are This.
“How can That be at all?”
I only know This – this moment.
“Why did That happen?”
I never really knew That that well.
“This is all there is?”
We cannot wish for This to become That.
I wish for you to take This with you when you go.
Then and only then,
That would be better than This.
.
.
Entombed in the thickest of forests He lay,
donning a shroud of cool, deadened leaves.
Limbs that once held the glorious weight of the world
lie scattered about the sacred grounds.
Branches that once shouldered the burden of the blame
had broken from the main, and still the vines held fast.
Everything for which He stood — a scheme inside a dream
His crowning achievement — a sacrificial theme
‘Twas all laid to rest beside the petrifying flesh of his ancestors.
.
Many a number of trees in these woods had been borne of his seed.
Year after year, they continued to fill the avoided spaces with new life.
Surrounding Him now, one by one,
they began to pay homage to His grandeur.
The critters nearby crept forth in a slow procession,
whilst the raven kept his quiet,
keeping a keen eye on the softly landing white doves.
.
‘Twas the perfect mourning for the painful,
exacting moments to spring forth and reclaim their royal birthrights.
.
.
Hysterical masses in a frenzy
eventually unnerve themselves in a fit of exhaustion.
What starts as a slightly audible hum,
gradually builds until it reaches a boisterous climax.
The orgasmic nature of a crowd
synchronizes itself to whatever is showing at the time.
No one comes late,
and no one wishes for an early withdrawal of forces.
A harbinger of fame and fortune lies in this ability
to continuously bring forth manic symptoms.
The fashionable fanfare for a King far excels that
of a pauper in proper attire.
An average plea would be ‘no contest’,
due to the certain lack of any competitive edge.
The edges being sought out of desperation
are not necessarily in the forefront.
Some folks run roughshod over the terrain,
longing to attain lovable attachments that hinder progress.
In a moment or two you will decide to please yourself,
and that will inevitably coincide with the moment
in which I start another ruckus.
.
.
a springboard is where you stand
take a deep breathe, or two
gather your wits before the altar
prepare to sacrifice your limbs
(only the ones who fell for this)
call for a matchmaker
pray to God for a spark
hope like hell it don’t rain
notice you’ve quit breathing again
gaze into upcoming moments
see it through to the finish
yes! we’ve been to the depths before
confidence mounts to rival high BP
adrenalin bequeaths a killer rush!
breathe, baby, breathe
and a one, and a two, and a
JUMP
*
Uncle Tree
Uncle Tree's House 