To a Dog, a Bone is Money

To a Dog, a Bone is Money



It’s said that unregulated

Capitalism created a ‘dog

Eat dog’ world. There, we

Become alert, feral dogs,

Defending bones from all

Other dogs, or left out be.



Ceaselessly looking out to

Spot weaker dogs, that can

Be overwhelmed by sheer,

Rabid numbers, to give up

Bones, and just skulk away,

Hungry, with tails lowered.

Or be set upon, ripped apart,

Until dead, out of the market,

With nary a bone to uphold.



One dog, instincts inflamed,

Leapt, claw and tooth into the

Fray and got a ‘t’ bone, and

Tried to crunch the bone into

Pieces it could swallow afore

Other dogs would force it to

Let go of the tasty ‘t’ bone.



It leapt all round to protect

Its flanks. It worked its teeth

Around the sharp contours of

The hard cartilage that tasted

So good. Cracking it into bits

That could be swallowed fast.



A huge brute lunged and bit

Its neck open, as toothsome,

Vice-like jaws closed and tore

Fur, flesh and thick vertebrae

Which connects skull to body.



It had tried to swallow the ‘t’

Shaped bone, but it got lodged,

Sideways, in its throat. Its long,

Sharp side protruding outward.



The sharp point ripped through

Pulsing, hot arteries. Narrow air-

Way tissues began constricting.

Hot blood filled its lungs, as its

Greedy dog consciousness fled.



The beast’s eyes began to bulge,

And its chest heaved, again and

Again. Its movements slowed, as

Hounds moved in for an easy kill.



It coughed up gouts of thick blood.

It fell. Dogs, now scent-maddened,

Ripped its helpless throat wide open.



They exposed a windpipe, and when

That was torn, they began ravening.

The naked jugular vein spurted red.



The moral of the story is a brutal

One, but true. When ‘dog eat dog’

Capitalism is seen as moral virtue,

Then we’ll all be like dogs, and dog

Will be the only item on anyone’s

Menu. And capital will prove itself

Worthless, if one must, perforce,

Risk losing one’s own life-morals,

Trying to get more of it by other’s

Ruin, if less vile than we, they be.

Addiction to Fear and Hatred

Addiction to Fear and Hatred



Don’t cook it up in a spoon using a lighter or a candle.

There’s no reason to hide tender flesh because we don’t

Get it from needles and septums are safe from snorts.



It’s freely offered on every street in every home, and

If you’ve a mind to indulge, just help yourself. No

One’s gonna care, at least not strangers, though loved

Ones will know and become alarmed at your changes.



And just as surely as smack smacks you down and

Coke cranks you up and molly doesn’t really mollify

Anything but awkwardness, fear and hatred will build

You up to crescendos of antagonisms and furies that

Are beyond an ability to keep under your control.



You’ll corrode from the inside out. Ready to erupt

In righteous indignation at any offense. Like battery

Poles that get red-hot before a blast, you’ll ignite.



But if, for you, somehow, some way, it becomes

Possible to set aside fears for a space, there might

Be time to examine the hatred inside yourself. And

When you do, you’ll see what some of us saw in

Ourselves when we found the courage to look:



Hatred is always a consequence of fear; and fear

Always exists in direct proportion to ignorance;

And that which we hate the most, is always our

Own uncontrollable addiction to fear and hatred.

So Long, Hate To See You, Go Away

So Long, Hate To See You, Go Away



It’s raining big crocodile teardrops from my

Eyes and I’m wearing a smile as I see you go.

Don’t get funny notions to come back and be,

I don’t want your beautiful self here with me.



Baby, baby, baby, you wanted more than I had

To give. Your needs gave me a fright, that’s right.

It’d drive me crazy to listen for reality in the loud

Miasmas as you declaimed your love, true, love.



Love is no better than any other blind illusion if

The predicate is need instead of the need to give.

So fare thee well, sightless one, as your hurting

Heart looks for a feeling you can call true love.



Oh, oh, oh, they say that true love is the way to go.

But look, here’s the thing: love and friendship are

Meant to go together with trust as the unbreakable

Glue. So whatever you do, make sure it’s really real.



Many a man and many a woman dream of their mate

Ideal, but it’s doubtful indeed, oh yeah, that she or he

Will meet their spec, as long as dreams are in the mix.

So for now, it’s so long, hate to see you, go away.

All Life Matters

All Life Matters



As a Buddhist, I find after nearly thirty years of practice, that I am

Now also a progressive humanist and life-ist, who treasures all forms

Of sentient and non-sentient life for its important interconnectedness.



There’s a lot of attention being given to the idea that all lives matter

In the grand scheme of life as we pretend to know it. But it’s all just

Lip service paid to a hazy ideal that no one really seems to believe.



Citizens of first-world, global northern hemisphere countries, believe

That the lives of the victims of wartime displacement, religious, and

Political persecution, and ethnic cleansing are not as valuable as the

Lives of their fellow country men, women and children, (especially if

They belong to a non-English-language-speaking ethnic group with

Skin tones that are darker than their own, so-called, Caucasian, pale

Hued tones of pinkness they revere as occupying the highest plateau

Of human evolutionary development. But in truth they are simple,

Garden variety bigots, racist to their core, because of their ignorance

And concomitant fears of all the others who, not like them, are to be

Decried as far less worthy of the freedoms they, themselves, take for

Granted as an inalienable birthright), including, but not limited to the

Freedom to worship the religion of their choice and freedom from

Persecution for choosing to believe the beliefs they hold.



I implore you, dear reader, to consider the idea that such wanton

Disregard for the lives of others has costs to our civilisation that can

Never be paid, except in fear and hatred, and continuous vicious

Conflict that, by its actions, nullifies all potentials for agreed peace

And harmony, and that will only lead us all, ultimately, to the total

Dissolution of our way of life and a descent into lawless barbarism

From which there can be no recovery for civilization as we knew it.



And as climate change rapidly diminishes any ability to provide

Food, water and shelter to dwindling numbers of human beings

Left alive, the overall number of human lives that don’t matter

Will expand to include everyone who has managed to survive

Thus far, and then, they, at the end, will endure exponential

Suffering, unto inevitable extinction as a non-viable species.



Now, dear reader, after having read what I’ve written above,

Don’t you feel, as do I, that life does not have to end for our

Species. Indeed, that we can work together to achieve the

Noble, and necessary goals of ending war, and losing our

Fear and hatred of those we perceive as dangerous ‘others,’

Working together, one life for all other lives, and all our

Lives dedicated to the preservation of that one other life,

Just as we would, if we were related, one to another. Just

As though we were related, in truth, as human beings all.

.

Masters and Spiritual Friends

Masters and Spiritual Friends



Guru, teach me something that I need to know.

Teach me a way to be less afraid, less confused.

“Confusion and fear are from ignorance,” you say.



Everywhere I’ve been there was so much to see.

I was filled with it until my emptiness showed.

You say, “Inner journeys find richer discoveries.



Illusions based on me and mine begin to fade.

Brave ego never met a pitfall it didn’t embrace.

“Delusions anchor lives in quicksand,” you say.



Now muddy iotas stretch into sodden nowheres.

A beggar for clarity, my views smoky and veiled.

You say, “Not to worry, that it’s only temporary.”

In Praise of Love’s Best Lunar Attributes

In Praise of Love’s Best Lunar Attributes



At night, the soft glow of a floating moon

Sends an incurious silence, opening minds

That thirst, desirous of the deepest mysteries.

Gazed upon and seen by the clearest of eyes,

Those windows to the soul, and our beating

Heart’s rhythms. Oft said to be, unearthly,

When one shy gaze meets a hesitant other.



Sunlight’s yellow fires open and close day

And night almost everywhere. At the broad

Equator, a noontime glare is both more and

The most, burning succulent, tender leaves,

Until they curl and dry to a paper-like death.



New love, like tender new leaves, also needs

Shade to quench those irrational, uncertain

Feelings, as new love’s hot fires, welcomed

Joyfully or fearfully, as old specters of loss,

Now fitful, awaken from their deep repose.



We too slumber, as nascent love’s hot kisses

Howl within us, not soft as a breeze’s caress,

But raging. I am awoken then, unlike ever

Before, by the lunar vastness of your love’s

Vivid, quiet landscape. I then become quite

Lost, but with no fear, you’ll be my oxygen.

Learning to Love with Your Whole Heart

Learning to Love with Your Whole Heart


"Most of us haven’t been taught that to receive love deeply and transmit

it wholeheartedly is a real human possibility, that it can be learned, and

that to do so is the key to our deepest well-being, our spiritual life, and

our capacity to bring more goodness into this world."


—Lama John Makransky, “Love Is All Around”

A Fool’s Part to Play

A Fool’s Part to Play



The performances aren’t exactly sold-out

Now, in his near-dotage, but the richness

Of a demanding character’s truest essence

Can, finally, be portrayed with confidence.



As I recollect, the understudy was the

Fool’s grandest emulator, both on and

Off the stage. Either wearing a kimono

Or a Saville Row, herringbone suit, it

Was always the same play to him. He

Simply lay in wait in the wings, night

After night, for a chance to play a part.



But the fool had endurance. He never

Failed to make a fool of himself on cue.

He never missed a performance, due to

His love of curtain calls and applause.

And encores by audience demand gave

His spirit’s tedium, the lift it craved.



Performances past are now well beyond

Number, but the footlights still call. Is it

The actor in all of us, or was the fool cast

So perfectly, as no other ever had been?



Greasepaint now finds deep crevasses in

Which to linger, but still, the fool carries

On, as though faux youth’s handsomest

Efforts at nobility could ever infuse the

Tired, old script with some new, possibly

Moral sense. He really is a fool, isn’t he?

Kept Alive With Love

Kept Alive With Love



The birds of time have but a short while to fly.

Time’s distances are unknown between birth and death.

The thorn that bursts our dreams is time. They bleed away.

A dream that is met by a dream will endure. Kept alive with love.



Any type of love will do: romantic love that

Claims its counterpart’s heart as together, shared;

Familial love, unconditional, that is, the be and end all;

But for us, our shared dream is replete. Kept alive with love.

I Won’t be Intimidated by Fear

I Won’t be Intimidated by Fear



Fear prompts a wary mode, ready to get ready.

Threats won’t be denied in minds that think so.

Incurious, the inner instinctual animal responds.

Paralysis, keys to the gate lie just out of reach.



Mindfulness tears open the fearsome veils of

Intimidation that, again, try to smother reason.

Sight now crystal clear, won’t be unfocused.



Shrieks of a scared mind won’t be heard again,

Nor will threats pose more than I can bear this day.

Fears won’t end, but can be confidently contained.

It Hurts, So to Speak

It Hurts, So to Speak



Here it is again. Pain. Deep flashes and jolts.

Surgical strikes like jagged edges of electricity,

Jar thoughts from random to a foci of intensity.



It’s a combination of old-age and the beatings

A body’s taken over time, with some lingering

Hauntings of car accidents, surgeries, and falls.



The old man smiles, winces and laughs. He

Knows that physical pain is of very little real

Import compared to the insufferable agonies

Endured when he’s experienced immersive,

All-encompassing mental pains that grabbed

Hold of his mind, turning every moment to a

Thought-altering, census-tally of hopelessness.



There’s the loss of creativity, incalculable in

Magnitude, but then, rediscovered anew, daily.

It outweighs everything else in life, and creates

A raw, livid awareness of his self, shattered by

Psychic quakes that come without warning, and

Torn by aftershocks that, seemingly, never end.



So, he handles physical pain. He meditates, and

It does, sometimes help, but medication is more

Dependable for long, sleepless nights that pass

Ever so slowly, taking on an adversarial status.



Root-nerve complexes in his back telegraph

Hot aches to his shoulders. Aching shoulders

Send signals to swollen elbows and his numb

Fingertips. Sciatic pains shoot down his left

Leg, with its knee that’s been rebuilt twice.



But those surgeries did nothing to help the

Lateral scoliosis that has plagued him since

He was, at 15 years of age, thrown from a

Wild palomino named, Son of Silver Spur.



Oh well, like I said, compared to the dangers

Of dark shadows that lie, concussed, in-between

Chronic mental suffering, it hurts, so to speak.

All The Fine Old Songs Will Be Gone

All The Fine Old Songs Will Be Gone



Listen well to your heart and mind.

You too will hear the deep laments

Within the songs singers now sing.



Neither language nor melody alone

Can portray ideas as well as when they

Are joined in voice to praise or decry.



If I asked you to believe that every

Human is part of a collective voice,

And that any songs worth hearing

Could only be sung right if they were

Sung together, as a chorus, to create

Melodies of happiness, would you?



As I write I listen to a recording

From the early 20th c.. It features

A famous tenor sings the lead role

Of a brave cavalier returning from

Military service to discover that

His beloved fiancée has married

A village man while he was away.



He stands in the village square on

Easter morning after learning of

His beloved’s heartless betrayal.



The libretto’s opening line speaks

To the skin-colour racism that was so

Prevalent, even in those olden times,

Even so far from American shores:


("O Lola! Like the snow, pure in thy whiteness!"


Heartbroken, he seduces a maiden from

The village that he does not love to exact

Vengeance upon his unfaithful ex-fiancée.



From that point forward, the story is a web

Of intrigue and despair as the four people

Deceive and hurt one another, again and

Again, to exact fiery revenge, over and over.



Angry men duel, the woeful cavalier is killed.

His mother, well-loved by all but now old,

Blind, and penniless, takes her own life.



The maiden is dishonoured for life.

The faithless wife is labelled a slut.

Her husband will forever wear the

Ugly horns of a disgraced cuckold.



And the village has changed from

A prosperous, harmonious place to

A poor, hungry place rent with fear,

Suspicion, and never-ending anger.



Hear the notes as this cautionary tale

Is sung. Its once dulcet sounds strain to

Reach strident tones of rage and pain.



Once shattered, the fine lilt of harmony

Is impossible to restore without trust,

But only if given time enough to heal.



I worry that time is a commodity we no

Longer have much of to spare as the world

Spirals back down into old, bitter hatreds,

Fear of others less white, and dark chaos.

Survival Isn’t an Unconventional Idea

Survival Isn’t an Unconventional Idea



We should all be careful that cherished traditions

Handed down to us through generations, don’t,

Over time, ossify into raw, emotional viewpoints

Prohibiting freedom of thought, bringing forward

Dangerous old ideas of hatred and intolerance from

Past eras that will be of no further use in our lives.



Now that the greatest migrations in the history of

Our race have begun because of war, climate, food

And water insecurity; and politically-based ethnic

And religious persecution, we, as a race of beings

Who must share our only home, have an urgent duty

To invent new ways of ensuring human survival.



If we as a sapient species, fail in that duty now, we

Will not have the means to prevent an accelerated

Breakdown of civilisation that will, in rapid order,

Reap instability, fear, anger and mayhem far into

The future. And the suffering and loss of life will

Be on a scale never before dreamt of or imagined.



It won’t matter that a family is rich or poor, all will

Be apportioned equal shares of suffering, anguish,

And permanent loss of dignity, purpose, wishes and

Dreams. Life as we knew it will never ever recover.

Those who briefly survive will live as beasts, fearing

The stroke of death at any moment. The time of plans

And future thoughts and acts will, forever be gone.

An Unforgettable Year

An Unforgettable Year



As the years roll on down the highway of life, it’s good

To pause and review the year just passed and remember

All the good things it brought and share my hopes and

Dreams for the year just ahead that’s yet to come.



Yes, there were some things that could have been better.

There were words spoken in haste that I’d like to take

Back. And some decisions were taken that should have

Been considered more carefully before I acted.



But on balance, it was a good year: there was kindness;

There was friendship; there was love; and most important,

There was forgiveness, freely given and received. And from

That act I learned better ways to be an imperfect human.



So now I look ahead to the next year of my life journey.

I don’t know what to expect or what karma will bring,

But I know it will be an unforgettable time in my life,

Because there is love in my heart and peace in my mind.