Poetry

I love Dad because he likes to fool around —
He tickles, hugs, and wrestles with me.

I love Dad because he always talks fun
And holds me tight every time we take a walk.

I love Dad for the gentle way he kisses my cheek;
It's funny, sometimes, how my tears flow.

Smiling tears, happy and satisfied without a care
Make me love him even more than before.

Little son, Father once clung & grasped just like that
But one day you will end up balling out your eyes,

Because strong love when separated is hard to bear
Think it over again, son, and set yourself right.

❖    ❖    ❖

Buddhadasa shall live, there's no dying.
Even when the body dies, listening to no one,
Whether it is or goes doesn't matter at all,
that's only something passing through time.

Buddhadasa carries on, there's no dying.
Through ups and downs always one with the teaching.
As befits one who's offered body and mind
In ceaseless service under Lord Buddha's command.

Buddhadasa lives on, there's no dying.
In service to all humanity without resting
through the Dhamma proclamations left behind —
O Friends, can't you see that nothing dies?

Even when I die and the body ceases forever
my voice still echoes in comrades' ears
clear and bright, as joyfully loud as ever.
Just as if I never died the Dhamma-body lives on.

Carry on with me as if I never died,
as though I am with you all as before.
Speak up whatever Dhamma is on your minds
as if I sit among you helping point out the facts.

Treat me as if I never died,
then many streams of benefits will accrue.
Don't forget the days set aside for Dhamma discussion,
Realize the End and stop dying!

❖     ❖    ❖

They wonder what it means to “learn Religion,”
Uncertain what to study or how.
Dhamma classes and Pali language aren't enough,
Graduate to meditation and vipassana.

Learn and learn again, all you get is “learning.”
Some develop the “religion crazed” illness 
With many things foolhardy and excessive,
Till filled up with status and gains, losing Nibbana.

The only place to learn religion is in the eyes and ears,
Whenever dukkha occurs at one sense or another.
Learn how to withdraw the bridge, so
That Mara hasn't a chance to mess with you.

Learn directly right there in the suffering,
Looking with the right method and model
Intercept the concocting process of the troubled 
mind, so it calms down and dukkha disappears.

❖    ❖    ❖

These kids of the Tathagata^* are tigers!
Ferociously pouncing on the Path-Fruit^** prey.

Living the wilderness of meditation as he taught,
Sorting out the branches of Satipatthana.^***

Body, feeling, minds, and Dhamma —
These four are the territories in which tigers

Circle, stalk, and catch their prey,
Clutched securely in the paws of mindfulness.

Any tiger that gets sloppy with Satipatthana
Becomes a house cat, haven't you seen.

The kittified tiger is gossipped all over,
Once the good name of “tiger” is lost in distractions.

❖    ❖    ❖

(*) Tathagata : "One Thus Gone," the Buddha. "Children of the Tathagata" traditionally refers to ordained monks and nuns.
(**) Path-Fruit : the moments of consciousness that through penetrating insight into the nature of reality cut through the inborn and accumulated accretions of egoism (path) and experience the resulting joy or peace and liberation (fruit).
(***) Satipatthana : the applications of mindfulness (listed in next stanza) which are the frames of reference for Buddhist meditation practice.

In chatting with the fish I came to know something strange; 
They segregate into two styles well worth studying: 

The fighting fish, gourami, oscars, and the like 
cling to self, attach to mates, and protect their nests. 
Honor crazed and fierce, they are instinctual fighters, 
snapping and biting their fish friends most insanely. 

The other kind, like Tilapia, are curiously different: 
they make no effort to dominate a mate as their own,
they wander like ascetics, hearts like monks,
leaving their eggs behind without a care.

They are just like homeless wanderers, 
rather than those stuck on “Ego” till they die.

❖    ❖    ❖

“Mokkh” in worldly language means freed or spotless,
that is, every kind of form, flavor, odor, and sound,
along with impressions of skin, body, and mind,
don't harm, don't disturb, and don't inflame.

Nature within Suan Mokkh uplifts the heart
until “Ego” big and small don't re-conceive.
Mind is cool and bright as if somebody else;
such happiness can't be compared to anything.

Mind is void so that it hears the rocks speak,
calling out that “nothing is worth losing your head over.
Why not stop for a while like us!
If you can't, then it's just your own hell.”

Note: Who ever sits down in Suan Mokkh 
still upset, distracted, or depressed: 
Hurry to a therapist to help calm you down, 
then, come back to meet with the “Mokkh.”

❖    ❖    ❖

Old Buk-bik shakes his head at the least whiff of booze, 
even when the odor is mixed into the very best of cakes, 
a single box costing a frightening amount of money.
Takes my heart away: the buyer wanted to make merit!

A real treat, but why won't this dog even touch it? 
Because of its smell, he goes crazy and pees in disgust.
Just a whiff and no dog would think it of any value;
the whole pack goes wild in their refusal to eat it.

Ponder this, please, when you pour from your bottle:
Push a dog to drink, he'll just turn his back on it and flee 
leaving the whole bottle behind for people to upend.
So drink up instead of the dog — then who's laughable?

❖    ❖    ❖

Born, we're afraid to die, so shamed by kittens, 
whose lively eyes sparkle with joyful peace,
never thinking foolishly like us, who tremble 
day and night struggling to insure against death.

The more we think, the more we suffer and imbed fear, 
compounding our suffering with layers of confusion.
Getting older, we worry even more, drafting friends 
and cronies to pray against death, yet keeping our fear.

How to conquer death never crosses such minds, 
carrying on mindlessly, a silly sight to behold, 
being Buddhist yet clutching at their “selves,”  
hearts quaking in dread of death — shamed by kittens.

❖    ❖    ❖

A sheet of paper worth only pennies
once decorated with noble characters
of Dhammic meaning in good style
has a value beyond estimation.

A mere souvenir notebook given away free
tho' empty is fought over by grasping fools, 
while the sage in search of truth knows 
paper only has value where Dhamma is written.

Even discarded, crumpled wrapping paper
has value from what, do you know?
Even a rotting body fondled by a foolish spouse,
once with Dhamma stops rotting — no more tears!

❖    ❖    ❖

Want to stop being foolish?
Then examine everything carefully. 

Want Dhammic religion? 
Then be tolerant and patient. 

Want to realize the fruits of the path? 
Then don't create any “self.” 

Want to be happy everywhere?
Then share, aid, and support others.

Want to honor your parents? 
Don't abandon the family's duties. 

Want to be rich in goodness? 
Don't do anything obsessively. 

Want not to waste this human birth? 
Then know how to be truly human. 

Want to be cool?
Then bathe in the Dhamma.

Want to finish off karmic retribution? 
Must have no “me” or “mine” left. 

Not want any suffering to remain? 
Must make it all free-void-empty.

Want to finish it once and for all? 
Must realize remainderless quenching. 

Want happiness without any pain?
Must Nibbanam paramam sukham.^*

❖    ❖    ❖

(*) Nibbanam paramam sukham means “Nibbana is the supreme happiness.”

The worldly progress we call “developed,”
looks more like decaying in order to die out,
or at least, ending faster than natural.
Feeling dismayed, we try to protest.

“Accelerated development” is like accelerated suicide,
natural resources are ruined in a rush,
the results are more excessive than needed,
until total confusion reigns, peace totally lacking.

This world develops materially far beyond its wisdom
Unsatisfied, nobody thinks of stripping away the corruption, 
of high technology running amok unnecessarily.
The more excited, the more depressed — developed world! 

❖    ❖    ❖

Unselfishness showers others with good fruits, 
With inner freedom one always gives easily, 
Before long, the world fills with true friends, 
A world of overflowing riches and pervasive kindness.

Without selfishness, loving kindness emerges naturally 
— Naturally considerate, naturally applying Dhamma in all actions, 
No chance of killing, of stealing, of sexually abusing, 
Not deceiving anyone and not drunk in the least way.

Without selfishness there’s no self to grasp, which 
Ends the source of all the afflictive emotions, thus 
Incapable of greed, hatred, and delusion, maintaining 
Mind-body clean, clear, and calm, approaching Nibbana. 

❖    ❖    ❖