?

Log in

Trouble



Trouble...
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble
Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born
Worry...
Worry, worry, worry, worry
Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone
We'll I've been saved by a woman
I've been saved by a woman
I've been saved by a woman
She won't let me go
She won't let me go now
She won't let me go
She won't let me go now

Trouble...
Oh, trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble
Feels like every time I get back on my feet
she come around and knock me down again
Worry...
Oh, worry, worry, worry, worry
Sometimes I swear it feels like this worry is my only friend
We'll I've been saved by a woman
I've been saved by a woman
I've been saved by a woman
She won't let me go
She won't let me go now
She won't let me go
She won't let me go now

She's good to me now
She gave me love and affection
She's good to me now
She gave me love and affection
I said I love her
Yes I love her
I said I love her

Looking for Mushrooms at Sunrise




When it is not yet day
I am walking on centuries of dead chestnut leaves
In a place without grief
Though the oriole
Out of another life warns me
That I am awake

In the dark while the rain fell
The gold chanterelles pushed through a sleep that was not mine
Waking me
So that I came up the mountain to find them

Where they appear it seems I have been before
I recognize their haunts as though remembering
Another life

Where else am I walking even now
Looking for me

— W.S. Merwin from his 1967 book, The Lice

"Heavenfaced"




I could walk out, but I won’t,
In my mind I am in your arms.
I wish someone would take my place,
Can’t face heaven all heavenfaced.
No one’s careful all the time,
If you lose me, I’m gonna die.

How completely high was I?
I was off by a thousand miles.
Hit the ceiling, then you fall,
Things are tougher than we are.
I could walk out, but I won’t,
In my mind I am in your arms.
I wish someone would take my place,
Can’t face heaven all heavenfaced.

Let’s go wait out in the fields with the ones we love.
Let’s go wait out in the fields with the ones we love.
Let’s go wait out in the fields with the ones we love.
Let’s go wait out in the fields with the ones we love.

She’s a griever, my believer
It’s not a fever, it’s a freezer
I believe her, I`m a griever now
She’s a griever, my believer
It’s not a fever, it’s a freezer
I believe her, I`m a griever now

Because we’ll all arrive in heaven alive
We’ll all arrive
Because we’ll all arrive in heaven alive
We’ll all arrive

On the Move



The blue jay scuffling in the bushes follows
Some hidden purpose, and the gust of birds
That spurts across the field, the wheeling swallows,
Has nested in the trees and undergrowth.
Seeking their instinct, or their poise, or both,
One moves with an uncertain violence
Under the dust thrown by a baffled sense
Or the dull thunder of approximate words.

On motorcycles, up the road, they come:
Small, black, as flies hanging in heat, the Boys,
Until the distance throws them forth, their hum
Bulges to thunder held by calf and thigh.
In goggles, donned impersonality,
In gleaming jackets trophied with the dust,
They strap in doubt – by hiding it, robust –
And almost hear a meaning in their noise.

Exact conclusion of their hardiness
Has no shape yet, but from known whereabouts
They ride, direction where the tyres press.
They scare a flight of birds across the field:
Much that is natural, to the will must yield.
Men manufacture both machine and soul,
And use what they imperfectly control
To dare a future from the taken routes.

It is a part solution, after all.
One is not necessarily discord
On earth; or damned because, half animal,
One lacks direct instinct, because one wakes
Afloat on movement that divides and breaks.
One joins the movement in a valueless world,
Choosing it, till, both hurler and the hurled,
One moves as well, always toward, toward.

A minute holds them, who have come to go:
The self-defined, astride the created will
They burst away; the towns they travel through
Are home for neither bird nor holiness,
For birds and saints complete their purposes.
At worst, one is in motion; and at best,
Reaching no absolute, in which to rest,
One is always nearer by not keeping still.

By Thom Gunn

no better plan...

grove

Of late, I love but quietness:
Things of this world are no more my concern.
Looking back, I've known no better plan
Than this: returning to the grove.

Pine breezes loosen my robe.
Mountain moonbeams play my lute.
What, you ask, is Final Truth?
The fisherman's song strikes deep into the bank.

- Wang Wei (710-761)

Looking for Each Other

moon

by Thich Nhat Hanh

I have been looking for you, World Honored One,
since I was a little child.
With my first breath, I heard your call,
and began to look for you, Blessed One.
I’ve walked so many perilous paths,
confronted so many dangers,
endured despair, fear, hopes, and memories.
I’ve trekked to the farthest regions, immense and wild,
sailed the vast oceans,
traversed the highest summits, lost among the clouds.
I’ve lain dead, utterly alone,
on the sands of ancient deserts.
I’ve held in my heart so many tears of stone.

Blessed One, I’ve dreamed of drinking dewdrops
that sparkle with the light of far-off galaxies.
I’ve left footprints on celestial mountains
and screamed from the depths of Avici Hell, exhausted, crazed with despair
because I was so hungry, so thirsty.
For millions of lifetimes,
I’ve longed to see you,
but didn’t know where to look.
Yet, I’ve always felt your presence with a mysterious certainty.

I know that for thousands of lifetimes,
you and I have been one,
and the distance between us is only a flash of thought.
Just yesterday while walking alone,
I saw the old path strewn with Autumn leaves,
and the brilliant moon, hanging over the gate,
suddenly appeared like the image of an old friend.
And all the stars confirmed that you were there!
All night, the rain of compassion continued to fall,
while lightning flashed through my window
and a great storm arose,
as if Earth and Sky were in battle.
Finally in me the rain stopped, the clouds parted.
The moon returned,
shining peacefully, calming Earth and Sky.
Looking into the mirror of the moon, suddenly
I saw myself,
and I saw you smiling, Blessed One.
How strange!

The moon of freedom has returned to me,
everything I thought I had lost.
From that moment on,
and in each moment that followed,
I saw that nothing had gone.
There is nothing that should be restored.
Every flower, every stone, and every leaf recognize me.
Wherever I turn, I see you smiling
the smile of no-birth and no-death.
The smile I received while looking at the mirror of the moon.
I see you sitting there, solid as Mount Meru,
calm as my own breath,
sitting as though no raging fire storm ever occurred,
sitting in complete peace and freedom.
At last I have found you, Blessed One,
and I have found myself.
There I sit.

The deep blue sky,
the snow-capped mountains painted against the horizon,
and the shining red sun sing with joy.
You, Blessed One, are my first love.
The love that is always present, always pure, and freshly new.
And I shall never need a love that will be called “last.”
You are the source of well-being flowing through numberless troubled lives,
the water from your spiritual stream always pure, as it was in the beginning.
You are the source of peace,
solidity, and inner freedom.
You are the Buddha, the Tathagata.
With my one-pointed mind
I vow to nourish your solidity and freedom in myself
so I can offer solidity and freedom to countless others,
now and forever.
- See more at: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/blog/#sthash.26GmwKIz.dpuf

Whatever It Was

corn goddess
...
In the chemical fields by ammonia light, I would offer my prayer to the Corn Goddess tonight, but they chopped off her head and stuck her body out on the lawn. I was looking for what I loved...

My generation takes what it can get, Are you surprised that the kids are all upset? They're looking at Nothing and Nothing turns away and yawns. I was looking for what I loved...

Can't go to the country - the country isn't there, It got chopped up and mortgaged and vanished in thin air, It's a paint-by-number and it costs a million bucks down at the pawn. I was looking for what I loved...

An electronic head and feet of clay, gonna be a lotta roadkill on the Information Highway, Someone stole the video of the everfresh and lovely dawn. I was looking for what I loved...

You might be streetwise. You might be real bad, I guess you forgot that you also are a dad, Your kids won't forget it when they're trying to find someone to lean on I was looking for what I loved...

The little towns are lying on their faces, All that's left are fading parking spaces, It's been quite a week, there was a drive-by shooting in Lake Wobegon. I was looking for what I loved...

A Native American told me this whole deal's a mistake, and this implosion is just icing on the cake, If the Great Spirit is gambling, I'd say the con is a bigger con. I was looking for what I loved...

-Greg Brown's Lyrics

Nothingman

bolt
once divided...nothing left to subtract...
some words when spoken...can't be taken back...
walks on his own...with thoughts he can't help thinking...
future's above...but in the past he's slow and sinking...
caught a bolt 'a lightnin'...cursed the day he let it go...
nothingman...
nothingman...
isn't it something?
nothingman...
she once believed...in every story he had to tell...
one day she stiffened...took the other side...
empty stares...from each corner of a shared prison cell...
one just escapes...one's left inside the well...
and he who forgets...will be destined to remember...
nothingman...
nothingman...
isn't it something?
nothingman...
oh, she don't want him...
oh, she won't feed him...after he's flown away...
oh, into the sun...ah, into the sun...
burn...burn...
nothingman...
nothingman...
isn't it something?
nothingman...
nothingman...
coulda' been something...
nothingman...
oh...ohh...ohh...

by Eddie Vedder

Apple Logic

apple
There is a wise old Apple Tree along side my house
creaking and rustling there with all its fruits since probably forever
holding secrets of nothing and everything
behind It
an ever changing Creek
rushing along with dreams and memories
above It
the wandering community of sacred white clouds
cast over the blue center of Everything
between It
the fresh damp emerald green grass
Startling young and vibrant yellow crocus'

I stand transfixed centered in the moment
beholden-ed to the threshold of another Spring season

How many times this threshold between dreams and memories
the exact day, not before, not after
Striving to grab hold and give jubilant witness to the eternal moments
Always living in the thresholds of these moments
We try to balance ourselves Evolving
some falling some flying some dancing
And what do I know of this place?
Nothing and Everything

Taken in by time and swept along
with the uncountable raindrops and snowflakes
rising and falling endlessly from the relentless seas
Selfishly longing to keep it all in and yet
Respectfully giving it back with gracious thoughts
riding on the song of solitary hopeful birds and the whispers in the clouds
Perhaps as with the apple with all its knowledge
we live on a memory
of it all.

Profile

rjparker
rjparker

Latest Month

June 2016
S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
2627282930