Ma-Ma Mantra
Om mani padme hum.
Oh marion, oh marjory
Who loved me like my mum.
That womb-like state of ease and grace,
The gaa gaa goo of tit on face,
I instinctively expect.
But in just sitting, at this place,
In thinking upward, from this base,
All learn the backward step.
So burglar, fraudster, pimp and whore,
Whose birthright is not mine:
On a hundred thousand sitting floors
Let's turn the light and shine.
4 Comments:
Built-up shoes and K.N. sleeves
Bamboozled Horace Wimp;
So Horace did his best to please
A bastard little pimp.
They say that Rinzai Zen is the Zen of the aristocrat and artist, whereas Soto Zen is the Zen of the farmer. I don't know about any of that. My years in Japan were never devoted to anything as wholesome as farming. Serving under a pimp, more like. Learning all the tricks of the pimping/whoring trade from a master. So I offer the following low-level ditty to my natural audience -- fraudsters, pimps, and whores everywhere.
The end of our endgaining
Might start with a laugh;
And when it comes out from the pelvis,
That might be the path.
So let's sit like a cabbage,
And not one cut in half;
Let's let go of baggage --
Like taking a warm bath
My Daily Round:
Here I sit now, in a mess;
I don't get rid of me.
But in holistic helplessness
My hips become more free.
Soon I'll teach: I'll put hands on,
And thieve a lesson fee.
But no-one's joints will come undone
By my trying to be free.
I'll sit again, noon and night,
With a non-monk's energy:
I'll turn non-light, and not shine bright.
Then I'll watch TV.
When I think of stupid things I've done,
Why do I call out: "Marion!"?
Of the many stupid things I've done,
This post might be another one.
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