scarletraisin

A sweet romance is not for me
I need electricity
If you wanna make me flip
Hit me with a micro chip

I'll be a diode, cathode, electrode
Overload, generator, oscillator
Make a circuit with me

Just plug in and go-go-go
I'll be a human dynamo
Signals in my power cord
Impulse on my circuit board

I'm an AC/DC man
You can read my circuit diagram
I feed on electric jolts
I need fifty-thousand volts

Some Children see Him lily white,
the Baby Jesus born this night.
Some Children see Him lily white,
with tresses soft and fair.
Some Children see Him bronzed and brown,
the Lord of heaven to earth come down;
Some Children see Him bronzed and brown,
with dark and heavy hair.

Some Children see Him almond eyed,
this Saviour whom we kneel beside,
Some Children see him almond eyed,
with skin of yellow hue.
Some Children see him dark as they,
sweet Mary’s Son to whom we pray;
Some Children see Him dark as they,
and ah! They love Him too.

The Children in each different place
will see the Baby Jesus’ face
Like theirs, but bright with heavenly grace,
and filled with holy light.
O lay aside each earthly thing,
and with thy heart as offering,
Come worship now the Infant King,
’tis love that’s born tonight!

Where Does The Dance Begin, Where Does it End?

Don't call this world adorable, or useful, that's not it.

It's mischievous, and a theater for more than fair winds.

The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.

The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.

But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white

feet of the trees

whose mouths open.

Doesn't the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?

Haven't the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe,

until at last, now, they shine

in your own garden? 

Don't call this world an explanation, or even an education. 

When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking

outward, to the mountains so solidly there

in a white-capped ring, or was he looking

to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea

that was also there,

beautiful as a thumb

curved and touching the finger, tenderly,

little love-ring,

as he whirled

in the garden of dust?

 
* * * * *

All that is left
to us by tradition
is mere words.

It is up to us
to find out what they mean.

     ibn al-`Arabi, Tarjuman al-Ashwaq,

Last night
the rain
spoke to me
slowly, saying,

what joy
to come falling
out of the brisk cloud,
to be happy again

in a new way
on the earth!
That's what it said
as it dropped,

smelling of iron,
and vanished
like a dream of the ocean
into the branches

and the grass below.
Then it was over.
The sky cleared.
I was standing

under a tree.
The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,

and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment
at which moment

my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars

and the soft rain -
imagine! imagine!
the long and wondrous journeys
still to be ours.

Philosophy of Life

You have to truly lose everything, to actually do anything you want to do. All these possessions, all these fears, all these hurts, everything of mourning, you look at it the other way and you see you're free. Struggling, but you're free, and that's where you go and just say Fuck It, and do what you want, use your energy to either stir people in your favor, or make ‘em shut up.

When you make peace with your problems, they don't seem like demons anymore, but angels!

You've gotta remember, the big thing, the million dollar factor here, our past... is fiction.  Every minute that passes behind becomes unreal. Our heads hold onto the memory because it did something to us, affected us, but really, it's not even real anymore. You're alive, you're in one piece, and the thing that scarred you made you stronger.  Can only give you hope that you can prevent it happening again, either to you or to someone else. But the good memories stay with us, and they will always be fact.

"Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It is a very mean and nasty place and it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it.
You, me, nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't how hard you hit; it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much you can take, and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done. Now, if you know what you're worth, then go out and get what you're worth."

Scarlet Sea

A sleepy red sky in a dream,
where are the waking eyes
that act as an audience

to the scarlet sea

So set fire to me
so hot, so pure
I saw a scar bleed into the cool azure
of the sky,
over the scarlet sea

I don’t lose sleep,
I fight it off for you,
so when we speak you with sun,
me with moon.

I saw the trail from my prison,
it was beautiful, like a soul through
a prism.
Fall into the scarlet sea.

and here I thought I was a philistine,
in another dream I caught a scarf and
it was carmine.

Dreams of Indian, Ochre and Vermillion,
but of all the reds I'm seeing
you are radiant crimson.

A sleepy red sky when I wake,
Where are the sleepy eyes,
that are missing this?
Their mistake.

E.

Memory creates the past

"We usually believe that the past creates memory. Real events occurred in the real past and we remember them -- but in fact that's only half the truth. The other half, every bit as important, is that memory creates the past. We are actively constructing our own past right now every bit as much as we create our own future...The past exists only in our minds and our minds are easily changeable and so the past itself become malleable as well." 

Hardcore Zen, p.77.

When people see some things as beautiful,
Other things become ugly.
When people see some things as good,
Other things become bad.

Being and non-being create each other.
Difficult and easy support each other.
Long and short define each other.
High and low depend on each other.
Before and after follow each other.

Therefore the Master
Acts without doing anything
And teaches without saying anything.
Things arrive and she lets them come;
Things disappear and she lets them go.
She has but doesn't possess,
Acts but doesn't expect.
When her work is done, she forgets it.
That is why it lasts forever.

Tao - Chapter 2