Tag: poetry

She wanted more

She was hurting inside

The girl wanted more of this 21st century

Existence she was living

She went through drink after drink

But couldn’t think about life without hurting inside

The world felt like too much

But she wanted a sense of deeper purpose

A sense of beauty

She felt the world swallowing her up

This sense of purpose she felt was higher

She wanted to go deeper

She wanted to go higher

Than the sky’s the limit that she heard

On  the lips of lover, teachers, fathers, breathers every day

She wanted to dig deep into the flesh

Of the public consciousness to have

These heavy breathing conversations 

About mental illness, loneliness and getting help

About stigma and its psychological

Emotional destructive physical toll

She knew others wanted to talk about it

But were just keeping it inside themselves

In the modern world of emotionless texts and emails

She was losing touch with not just the people

Around her but also with her deepest sense of self

So she created, and dreamed, and created, and dreamed

And created, and while the daily act of divine creation, inspiration

Pre-sti-di-gi-ta-tion

Didn’t get rid of her hurt completely

It opened up a medium for her to have

Those tough-as-nails conversations about that

Eighty ton Eeyore sitting alone in the corner and take Prozac for the dark cloud

Of numbness and meaninglessness that hung over his head.

March 16, 2021
I scan news story after every news story
Reading about the murder of 
Six Asian women in Atlanta 
My heart gets heavy 
As I think about my sangha community 
Of BIPOC folx
I bottle the anger inside of me
Keep filling the glass
Until it threatens to overflow
I have to release that rage
Let it off 
But how can I
When I feel so much numbness, pain, anxiety, depression
Hopelessness about the state of the world
And the pervasiveness of a system
That has disenfranchised the marginalized
For far too long?

March 16 
Kosen-Rufu Day
A day when our second Soka Gakkai president
Josei Toda
Passed the baton to the youth
So they could fight against injustice
And fight for a more peaceful society
After his passing
March 16
A day where I and my sangha community of believers
Refreshed our vow for kosen rufu
Was a day of violence, hurt, trauma 
I remember my vow for kosen-rufu
When I think of the hate incident 
And countless other hate incidents
That have brutalized Asian and Pacific Islander communities 
For far too long  

Lunch time
I gather my things
Get in the car 
Shut the door
And just start chanting 
Nam myoho renge kyo
Nam myoho renge kyo
Nam myoho renge kyo
Each syllable as I repeat the words
Rolls off my tongue
I revive my life
Through each pronunciation 
Of a mantra whose roots are in
Sanskrit, Chinese and Japanese
Nam = devotion
I dedicate myself to this life affirming philosophy
That teaches each person, no matter their color, creed, race, sexuality, gender, dis/ability, political affiliation
Is a Buddha 
A Buddha endowed 
From time without beginning
For the eternity of life
From past, present and future life cycles
With boundless wisdom, courage, compassion and life force
Myo= life and ho= death
Myoho= Mystic Law, oneness of life and death
I cannot see this law tangibly
But it runs through every current of my being
Reviving me 
Inspiring me
Renge= simultaneity of cause and effect
I make the cause to channel my anger
Into my prayer
And each time I recite the words
I awaken to the power in my life
Without anyone else telling me 
Or having to wait on someone to tell me I'm dope
Sutra = teaching through one's voice
I recite the entirety of this beautiful Mahayana teaching
The Lotus Sutra
When I recite the beautiful song
Of my life, my Buddha nature

I chant to bring forth this well
To tap into the well and bring forth this boundless supply
of nourishing freshwater
The elixir of life that keeps me going every day.
I remember that within my anger is 
The beautiful world of Buddhahood
The mutual possession of the Ten Worlds 
Even the mind state of hell I'm roasting in 
Can be the world of Tranquil Light
Even the rage and frustration I feel
Can have the seed of Buddhahood
When I give life and creativity to that anger
To speak out against injustice
In my own unique way
Peach, cherry, plum, damson.   


As the words roll off my tongue
And into the universe
As I connect with the higher power of myself
And with the galaxies, sun, stars, moon, grass, trees, flora, fauna 
Tears pool in my eyes 
And run like rivers down my face
As I think about the lives lost 
To disgusting prejudice, hatred, a lack of respect for the dignity of life
A boulder forms in my throat
And my shoulders shake
Tiny earthquakes 
My chanting rocks harder than any earthquake though
When I resolve as my prayer gets stronger and stronger
To eradicate the violence and misery in the world
By eradicating the violence and misery in myself
I remember in 2001 celebrating Victory over Violence
with my sangha community 
And resolving to be the change in my own life
So I can be the change in the world

To see the Buddhahood in others
I need to see the Buddhahood in my own life
The jewel, the pearl that shines from within
I tap into my inner potential 
And chant for the lives lost in the shooting
Especially the lives of the 6 Asian women lost 
To the poisonous bullets of intersectional racism and misogyny 
I shed tears in memory 
I shed tears for their families 
I shed tears when I remember that this isn't an isolated incident
But one of several incidents of anti-Asian hatred 
That have occurred even well before the pandemic
I remember our country, despite saying all men are created equal, 
Hasn't always said the same about everyone. 
I remember my vow
To stand in solidarity with my Asian brothers, sisters, non-binary siblings 
To do my human revolution 
So I can kickstart a beautiful revolution of peace and social justice
With tears shed 
And the words nam myoho renge kyo said
I take to the pen 
And start writing.


 

Last night I finished Crazy Brave, a memoir by U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo, and it honestly blew me away. Her writing just held me and held me and wouldn’t let me go until the last page. Her use of metaphor is also really powerful, and it was just such a powerful memoir, just reading about her life and how poetry was her medium of survival and resistance made me appreciate even more deeply the poetry book I read by her, She Had Some Horses. One day it was hot in my car so I sat outside on the grass and just read this book amidst nature, and Harjo’s writing took me away. Harjo’s writing is lived experience, it is lived narrative. Joy Harjo reminds me how powerful poetry and writing is in healing, in addressing collective trauma across generations. I’m so glad that the person who told me about Joy Harjo’s She Had Some Horses also recommended this memoir because if I hadn’t read it I wouldn’t have known how amazing she is.

Crazy Brave: A Memoir by Joy Harjo. 2012. 169 pp.

Written on 3/15/21 at 12:05 pm

I sit outside

Reading my Living Buddhism

I spot three robins

beautiful red breasted robins

Hopping around on the lawn

Hip hop hip hop

Peaceful as can be

As I sit under the bare branched tree

The mosquito eaters buzz around me

I soak in the azul of the beautiful sky

The sun nurtures me with

Her radiant vitamin D

The robins are so beautiful.

Written on March 15, 2021

I wake up at 6
Mom makes some grits and greens
My bed is rumpled
The sheets need to be washed
I chant Nam myoho renge kyo
The story of my life
The title of my Buddhahood
The title of the story of the Universe
From time without beginning

While I dawdle on my computer
Just gotta finish this blog post
My fingers sweat with anxiety
As I clack them across the keyboard
Barely finished
Half-baked book review
But at least you finished it after
Weeks of procrastination

I pack my lunch
Spaghetti and vegetables with tomato sauce
And a banana
I grab my two masks
And go out the door
Shoot I forgot my phone
I rush back into the house
And grab it 

In my sleepy haze 
I travel down the roads of my neighborhood
Cars turn left
I turn right without looking 
Thank God it's school zone time
A car glides along 
There could have been a collision
But my mind is brainwashed
By the marijuana of sleepiness
I start chanting as my car glides
Through the quiet morning streets
And the sun bathes my eyes and face
In its radiance 

Nam myoho renge kyo
Nam myoho renge kyo
Nam myoho renge kyo
"Never seek this Gohonzon outside yourself
The Gohonzon exists only within the mortal flesh
Of us ordinary people
who embrace the Lotus Sutra 
and chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo"*
I keep this little jewel of wisdom in my 
Back pocket 
And remember that my life
I
am the Gohonzon
The embodiment of Nam myoho renge kyo
Even if I barely try to get through the day
I need not slander my Buddhahood 
If you love yourself
It's easier to love other people

As I write this poem
In the parking lot of work
In the peaceful solitude of my car
I intone the title of Buddhahood
Nam myoho renge kyo
My busy mind slows
It pumps the brakes 
To savor every honey syllable 
And my body feels like limp spaghetti
Know thyself
I sink into my greater self
And manifest it in more ways than one

When I chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo
I bring forth the wisdom, courage, compassion
And life force that has been the essence of my being
And the essence of others
And the essence of the universe
Since time without beginning. 

*from "The Real Aspect of the Gohonzon," page 832, The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, volume 1. Soka Gakkai 

Written on February 28, 2019

I am plunging into the deep
my body tingling with the summer air
i submerge myself into the ocean of my heart.
as i snorkel and swim 
i dance rhythmically, mystically, blissfully 
with dolphins who look at me curiously
as if I was an extraterrestrial

My pulse pumps life blood
into my body
as the oxygen leaves my lungs
and i slowly fall into a deep, deep unconsciousness

i feel a humanness
rescue me from the depths of the deep blue
it is alas you
and you came to rescue me 
from that abyss.

i want to thank you
but my heart is full of grief 
as i plunged into the ocean blue
the air on land
liberates me
from the shackles of shame 
serenity
serendipity
a blessing not a curse
pulls me from the dark dungeon
of my heart.

i retch.
my breath heavy
i struggle to breathe
the saltwater overwhelms my struggling lungs
then a torrent of saltwater and other contents
plunges from the depth of my being
my body convulses
rebels against the bitter sharp taste of vomit
that coats my entire mouth
in one grand gesture of bitter sweetness.

your hands warm my convulsing back
as i give up all the thrills, the ecstasy, 
the laughs, the dances i shared with those dolphins and 
the rest of the marine life.

Written on February 28, 2019

I sit alone at the kitchen table
And watch as the lonely waves crash
outside my window

I peel the sweet pulpy fruit
listening to the crisp squish of its flesh
as it peels back against the sour bitter
flesh
i admire the curled strips of fruity flesh
hanging off the succulent sphere
in my sticky hands collects the sweet and sour juice

i take my fingers
and grasp onto a crescent moon
and peel the moon gently from its friends
goodbye, it says, my loves it was nice knowing you
i detach the lonely moon as it gives one last longing kiss
to the other crescent moons that nestle alongside it
that try to latch themselves to it
like a magnet on a refrigerator

i embrace the pulpy mass with my fingers
honey running down my hand
the orange makes its slow descent
into the abyss of my stomach
i chew that flesh with the relish
of a food aficionado
sparks fly on the surface of my ridged tongue
sweet, salty, bitter, all of my lost memories
of picking oranges in the summer Texas sun
with my ex.
they no longer pick oranges with me
but they pick oranges with me in spirit
they enjoy the scrumptious sumptuous moment 
of dining on this exquisite fruit with me.

The peels sit on the table
untouched.
I let them have a moment of deep contemplative silence and dry out for a few days
in the sun so that i could make essential oils out of them
they sit, feeling used, torn apart by the violence
of my delicate yet impatient hands.
mangled by the hunger and passion of my taste in fruits
i tip-toe my fingers
to the middle of the table
and caress those delicate remains
of a round ripe healthy body
with a sticker certifying its livelihood
imported from Nicaragua. 

Written on February 28, 2019

We sit together
Eating hot dogs 
Full of crunchy fresh pickle relish
Spicy ocher mustard
And crimson ketchup
on that Brooklyn bench
After wandering round Central Park.

He looks at me for the longest time and just smiles.
A simple smile, no more, no less.
His long sandy hair breezing in the wind.
His green apple eyes bear through
my every thought
telling me i'm hiding something
even though i don't want to say what's on my mind

he holds my hand, with its tarnished wedding ring
stained with blood
a ring i no longer care to think about
a ring of a love long gone
a divorce that still bears the scar of our rocky marriage
i let the tears flow calmly
i feel my body give little quakes off
as he continues to hold my hand
this gentle friend of mine
tells me that it's ok to not be ok

that everything is going to be fine
that i don't have to live with the hurt of divorce
this friend tells me in a whisper, 
that i no longer need to wait on someone to please me
romantically
and i no longer have to please anyone but myself
that i can be free of the fetters of loneliness
and enjoy the placid silence that comes with solitude
solitude = juventud
juventud = youth in Spanish.

i let the hurt wash over me
and then i inhale, my lungs taking in the crisp fall air
and i let out a long sigh that shakes
letting go of years of pain, pleasure, destruction, emotional detachment
i let this friend curl his turtle-necked arms around my neck. 
a neck that bears the burning flesh wound of emotional abuse
a wound that will take many months to heal from
a gash that bears my name, my namesake, his name, his namesake
i jokingly rub the tears into the wound at the back of my neck.

the tears are magical healing water
they are an elixir of salty and sweet
they gently kiss my broken wounds as i rub them gently on the scars 
these tear kisses gently caress these screaming wounds
and calm them so their flames don't continue to lick my neck
even as this moment of sweet, sweet bliss
only lasts for some time
before i am once again back to tasting the sweet and salty 
of fresh flowing tears.

i wake up in my own bed
the friend has gone home
i sit and look up at the ceiling
my mind is no longer racing
and even though the demons of doubt will
in any second rear their ugly demonic heads of doom
my body dragged down
by the weight of emotional depletion.

the tears are dried like 
a charcoal mask after it's done sitting on your face
on my puffy face my eyes tired
from all the tears, the crying worked
my face muscles, my eye muscles,
every muscle that waged a war in my body, worn and dragged
beat and bruised
body.
 

Written February 28, 2019

Inspired by: Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin (1898-1937) and the beautiful city of Chicago. I envisioned myself dancing through the city of Chicago to Rhapsody in Blue one day . The daydream was burning in my mind, so I wrote it down. This is from Fantasia 2000 and it inspired me to write the poem:

Like everyone else, I am walking
Not walking, actually, but meandering. 
I am getting lost in this big American Dream forest
Letting its skyscrapers swallow me whole
Like vultures leaning down to inspect 
Examine, lick and devour the lone furry mouse before them.

When I hear the clarinetist warm up the Rhapsody in Blue
With his soaring introduction of seductive syncopations
Drunk with his own wonder and wine
I spin in a little circle 
On the sidewalk, outside The Picasso
Its broad forehead curved into a long snout.
Like that of an anteater.
I stop before the statue as the clarinetist
Continues to slowly heat up the rhapsody 
Toast it to a nice crispy golden brown
With its back-in-the-swing-of-things conclusion
And then I resume my choreography.

The sudden booms, tumbles and clashes of the percussion and 
The rest of the orchestra startles my whole body
Into a passionate frenzy.
I jerk my head
I twist my body 
I spin in a pirouette
My Converses hitting the pavement with each move  
As apathetic pigeons look on and search for breadcrumbs.

After thousands upon thousands of booms, ebbs and crashes
The piece settles into the sweet quiet
Lullaby of the pianist.
I drop quietly to the ground
Tumbling, falling, dancing down to Mother Earth
My body loosens and I loosen it
I stretch out, let the cold slab of concrete take me in
I let it force me to reflect on the calm clouds
That pose placidly in the sky, looking down on us mortals.
They are not busy like us city folk
They are just there to let us dreamers imagine
A more peaceful world, one of less hustle and bustle.

Then the orchestra soaks me with its honey of a love melody. 
The piano soars in its harmonies
My shoulders roll and I slowly rise
Struggling to get up
Oh, the quiet moment of reflection has taken its toll
Putting me in a dormant state
I don't want to leave the ground
But alas, I rise to absorb myself
In the thick juicy love theme vat 
Never let it die, this moment of reflection!
My face contorts
As my eyes wide shut enjoy 
The soaking of the sun's rays upon my grateful eyelids.

I open my eyes
And admire the old
Deep-dish pizza parlor
As the solo piano delicately dances in a
Romantic scintillating monologue
Of long-lost memories, of lovers who stay in the heart 
Of those who remember
I admire The Chicago Theatre
Unlit, dormant until the night falls 
And its dazzling lights scintillate in the pools
Of fresh rain.

I see busy people rushing past me
On their way to work
I only work the night shift at Sally's Beer and Wine
So my day is free to wander and muse.
In rhythm with the busy ones
In rhythm with the rising crescendo of 
the flurried orchestra
in rhythm with the pounding piano keys 
in the key of e flat
rhythms trample me flat like an E key elephant 

then the elephant stops its trampling and
makes way for a grand parade of triumph and pride.
in living color, the Technicolor scheme asserts
itself boldly, I spread my arms in one fell swoop
as the orchestra and the pianist crescendo
and then end with a sharp bang.
my face muscles spread 
in a smile 
of love for my city.