Archive for the poems 2008 Category

formal restraint beer 1

Posted in poems 2008 with tags , , , , , , , on July 27, 2010 by GJK

sixteen ounc-

es of beer

in the fridge;

poured into

the goblet

each vessel

is fulfilled.

swallowed quick

fullness be-

comes empty.

zen practice

at its best

is alum-

inum poured

into glass

poured into

thirsty throat.

the cycle

repeats and

becomes bland.

here is where

Action be-

comes again

the simple

lightness of

Awareness

and Being.

—–

GJK

summer of 2008

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formal restraint coffee 1

Posted in poems 2008 with tags , , , , , , on July 27, 2010 by GJK

the cup holds

six ounces.

microwaved

forty-eight

seconds it

becomes warm.

warm enough

to quickly

be consumed.

heat fills me

and the cup

is again

wanting fuel.

each vessel

is fulfilled.

coffee cup,

microwave

and the Self.

rituals

remind us

who we are,

for we are

nothing but

what we do.

Being is

mute concept;

Action is

appreci-

able truth.

——

GJK

summer of 2008

formal restraint cigarette 1

Posted in poems 2008 with tags , , , , , , on July 27, 2010 by GJK

 

cigarette

becomes dead

as we live

its essence.

suicide

cancer stick

is fulfilled

as it burns

yet unlit.

funerals

packaged for

amusement

and conceit

always fail

to convict

illusions

of being

illusions.

cigarette

essence is

quiet med-

itation.

is simple

breath.  we are

cigarette

when we halt

our mental

contortions.

———

GJK

summer of 2008

formal restraint car 1

Posted in poems 2008 with tags , , , , , , on July 27, 2010 by GJK

 

internal

combustion

engine revs

eighteen hun-

dred per min-

ute.  she growls

and groans low.

she thunders

as she rolls.

transmission

of persons

thru landscapes

fulfills her

metal and

chrome being.

gasoline

feeds her thirst;

her engine,

well oiled, is

efficient

and graceful.

treat her well

and she will

get you there

ev’ry time.

——

GJK

summer of 2008

serious smoke

Posted in poems 2008 with tags , , , , , on July 27, 2010 by GJK

 

father,

they’re burning our forest down.

right here on highway 41

between my house and your house

they’re burning the forest down

to make way for a strip mall

or a gas station

or a chain restaurant

or some such piece of progress

so the shackers can roll thru

and feel as if they’d never left

their day-to-day lives.

giant yellow machines are hacking

and stacking our trees

into the largest bonfire i’ve ever seen

with my own two eyes

and it pains me to know

they’ve no regard for the hundreds

of thousands of creatures

they’re slaying with every

slash-and-burn

commercial start-up

or highway department project.

father, it pains me

that family farms are dead or dying

and i love that i was raised on one.

now, at 33, it may be time for me

to offer up a lesson.

smoke can teach many things.

you have no idea what it is to be a smoker

of tobacco, or of other things.

but i know you know this-

the speculators are killing us.

it’s an updated version

of the rape of this continent

and its peoples by those

whose names we are familiar with,

so the lesson is this-

we are new natives

and the global-corporate-machine

is the empire that has come

to rape, pillage, and plunder.

mercantilism in this century

pervades so much of the culture

it is difficult to see it as such.

they are here to exploit

every natural resource

(including every friend i have)

in the name of money

of progress

of war.

a dear friend you haven’t met

has a brother at war

who may never come back.

this is serious.

stand up with me for peace, father.

it was you, after all,

that first taught me

to turn the other cheek.

 

 

GJK

summer of 2008

what else

Posted in poems 2008 with tags , , , , on July 26, 2010 by GJK

 

i have so much

to be grateful for;

the luxury of free time

is not as common

as it should be.

i dedicate this poem to industry,

to the men, women,

and robots

who produced this pen,

this page

and the car i drive.

(i drive it too much,

 gotta fix my bicycle)

i dedicate this to

all those who built this dwelling

in which i sit

on a hand-me-down couch,

all those who grew the grain

that i eat and drink.

this could go on forever,

this description of connectedness

this sketch of interbeing.

(if this guy uses the word COSMOS

 i swear i’m gonna stop reading)

and that’s about the end of it

for now.

what else is there

besides life and death.

for me,

it’s this.

 

 

GJK

11JUN08