BuddhaRocks

The old year wanes thin as the new year looms near

 

The mill wheel of Father Time finds new grist to grind

 

Around the world calendar pages are flipped or ripped

 

Last year’s days get swept into the past too fast

 

We hope time will linger, finger to lips, shhh…

Heavy Duty

Hi-Def

High & Dry

Holy Day

Howdy Doody

Humble & Dumb

Humongous Deficit

Humped & Dumped

Hunky Dory

Kawasaki, Honda
Yamaha, Suzuki
Kawasaki, Honda
Yamaha, Suzuki

Nissan, Mazda
Nissan, Mazda

Subaru, Daihatsu
Isuzu, Toyota
Subaru, Daihatsu
Isuzu, Toyota

Mitsubishi, Hyundai
Mitsubishi, Hyundai

A beautiful blue blur with

Whirling-dervish tricks

Arching and twisting moves

Neck-snaps, swift kicks

 

She changes faces easily

This sly yellow-eyed temptress

Who’s sultry, seductive saunter

Belies one deadly Tempest

 

An able assassin who loves this game

At which she is so skilled

Yet she’s left standing there, so alone

Among the ones she’s killed

So very often have I been here before
To this pub that they call The Copper Door

The front door is made of copper, it’s true
The back door won’t open, but that’s not for you

I always sit here at my high corner stool
I drink and I drink until I act the fool

The bartender’s rather stoic and dull
But manages always to keep my glass full

It’s quite entertaining, the characters here
With all of their talking between quaffs of beer

There’s old Crazy Larry, who yaks like a train
Although I am certain he’s really quite sane

There’s Big Mike and Eddie who work at the plant
Pounding down drinks as they gripe and they rant

Then in saunters Kelly, a curvaceous redhead
Who’s still seeking some sugar daddy to wed

Soon after that, in walks sweet Marie
Such a nice girl, she’s something to see

Smiling Tom comes in at nine, don’t forget him
He always buys me a drink, and I let him

A mixture of people, they come and they go
There’s always a chance you’ll see someone you know

So here’s this pub they call The Copper Door
Come to think of it, I’ve not been there before

Goodbye, November
With brown leaves falling

Hello, December
With holidays calling

So long, Autumn
With cold winds blowing

Greetings, Winter
With white flakes snowing

Farewell, harvest days
With bountiful reaping

Welcome, frigid days
With icicles creeping

(Just some miscellaneous debris that has popped into my head)

 

 

The finest silks from Bangladesh

Rendered in a tangled mess

White hibiscus strangled fresh

 

 

We rarely appreciate just being alive…

Only when Death comes knocking do we realize the truth of it.

 

 

Truth needs no footnotes.

 

 

I want to do something that only I can do

and have whatever that is be my job.

 

 

I have despair to spare.

 

Marshmallow cannonball!

The best things in life are rarely fast…

(and if they are, they’re not fast enough!)

I need time more than time needs me.

 

Life gets scary when it’s all up to you.

 

To gauge Truth, multiply Urgency by Fact, then divide by Benefit.

 

 

You can manicure, but you can’t cure a man.

(What?  A man can’t say that?)

I used to shave every day
but the whiskers kept on growing.
Why didn’t they just stay away?
I had no way of knowing.

I’d shave my face all clean and smooth
and get rid of the stubble.
By five o’clock the shadows grew
to come and burst my bubble.

Why do I keep growing hair
every place that I remove it?
Doesn’t hair know that I’m in charge
and have the right to improve it?

Now I don’t even shave at all;
my beard is long and flowing.
I could trim it, but what’s the use?
My hair just keeps on growing!

I want to float away

on a cool blue cloud

leave all of my cares

and troubles far behind

 

No more worry

no more concern

just me here, drifting

on a cool blue cloud

I brought you a dozen red roses

You tossed them in a compost heap

Then picked some yellow dandelions

 

I told you it was wasteful

You said it wasn’t so important

Then brought me some zucchini bread

 

I bought you a pearl necklace

You threw it into the sea

Then had some oysters for lunch

 

I brought you a bottle of fine wine

You poured it down the sink

Then drank some cheap beer

 

I told you to be serious

You jumped up on the table

Then danced some kind of jig

 

I bought you a brand-new luxury car

You sold it for ten dollars

Then drove off in some rusty jalopy

 

I brought you to town for furniture

You ran instead to a toy store

Then bought some paper kites

 

I told you that I loved you

You laughed at the notion

Then said you liked me some

 

I bought you a diamond ring

You disengaged it from your left hand

Then dropped it down some sewer

 

I brought you a painting

You slashed it with a razor

Then drew some crayon stick figures

 

I told you that I gave up

You kissed my cheek gently

Then kissed me some more

 

I bought you nothing else

You finally just smiled bright

Then said you loved me truly

 

Baudelaire, Longfellow, Wordsworth, Yeats

I’m sad that I’m not one of those greats

 

Auden, Milton, Cummings, Frost

I’ll never write my Paradise Lost

 

Ginsberg, Whitman, Browning, Hughes

I’m not someone who’s met his Muse

 

Teasdale, Eliot, Wilde or Poe

Mine’s not a name that Time will know

I dwell in places between the extremes
Way left to way right, or up and down
I balance my life as it spins ‘round

Loud raucous music, then a quiet repose
Morning’s hot, jittery coffee
Later on it’s cool suds for me

Oatmeal for breakfast, or a cold cereal bowl
Habanero hot wings that make me sweat
(Haven’t found a way to tame that fire yet)

The cycle keeps spinning like pedals on a bike
One side’s up, the other side’s down
They trade places and come back around

I could run this country 
It doesn’t seem too hard
You make a lot of promises
And rake the muck real hard

And once you get elected
You hire all your friends
Get lot of contributions
And gifts everyone sends

You fly around in Air Force One
And visit many lands
Meet with kings and diplomats
To smile and shake their hands

And when you’re feeling randy
A phone call will send down
An intern or a movie star, if
The First Lady’s out of town

And when all your promises
Just fail to appear
You blame the other party
Or anyone that’s near

Feed my eyes with your bright smile
Feed my ears with laughs
Feed my nose with pretty flowers
From sweet-scented baths

Feed my hands with warm, soft skin
Feed my mouth with a kiss
Feed my heart with compassion
Fill my soul with bliss

Feed me each and every day
Feed me to overflowing
Feed me each and every way
Feed me love worth knowing

I think music is important for many reasons. Music is a great uniter, a common interest, a shared love. People from all walks of life appreciate music. There’s no barrier it cannot break, no boundary it cannot cross. 

I need music to live almost as surely as I need oxygen. Like an addict, I need it every day. My life would be incomplete without it. Even when there’s no music being played, music is in my head.

Music helps me shoulder my burdens and eases my soul. Music buoys me up when I’m down and calms me down when I’m agitated. Music has been my friend when it seemed I had none. 

Music shares your joys and your sorrows. Music lets you know you’re not alone in this world, but can also isolate you from it, serving as both commune and refuge.

Music speaks to the Community of Man; a sameness of experience or feelings we all know but can’t always grasp. Music speaks a universal language that anyone can understand, despite its many dialects, if they know how to listen. 


Quotes about music: 

“If music be the food of love, play on…” 
- Shakespeare, “Twelfth Night”

“Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast”
- William Congreve, “The Mourning Bride”

“The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils.”
- Shakespeare, “The Merchant of Venice”

“Music’s golden tongue
Flatter’d to tears this aged man and poor.”
- John Keats, “The Eve of St. Agnes”

“O Music! Sphere-descended maid,
Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom’s aid!”
- William Collins, “The Passions”

“Music is well said to be the speech of angels.”
- Thomas Carlyle, “Essays - The Opera”

“Music is your own experience, your own thoughts, your wisdom. If you don’t live it, it won’t come out of your horn. They teach you there’s a boundary line to music. But, man, there’s no boundary line to art.”
- Charlie Parker

“Music dissolves the straight and narrow.”
- Mason Cooley, “City Aphorisms”

” Great music is that which penetrates the ear with facility and leaves the memory with difficulty. Magical music never leaves the memory.”
- Thomas Beecham

“This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air; thence have I followed it,
Or it hath drawn me rather.”
- Shakespeare, “The Tempest”

“Music is the best means we have of digesting time.”
- W.H. Auden

“Music was invented to confirm human loneliness.”
- Lawrence Durrell, “Clea”

“Music and Wine are one.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Bacchus”

“The finer the music the less ignorant persons like it.”
- Honoré de Balzac, “Ursula”

“Music is the sound of the universal laws promulgated. It is the only assured tone. There are in it such strains as far surpass any man’s faith in the loftiness of his destiny. Things are to be learned which it will be worth the while to learn.”
- Henry David Thoreau, “A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers”

“Truly fertile Music, the only kind that will move us, that we shall truly appreciate, will be a Music conducive to Dream, which banishes all reason and analysis. One must not wish first to understand and then to feel. Art does not tolerate Reason.”
- Albert Camus, “Essay On Music”

“Music is the sole art which evokes nostalgia for the future.”
- Ned Rorem

“Music conveys moods and images. Even in opera, where plots deal with the structure of destiny, it’s music, not words, that provides power.”
- Marcel Marceau
(It’s not often does one encounter quotes from a mime!)

“Music, of all the arts, stands in a special region, unlit by any star but its own, and utterly without meaning … except its own.”
- Leonard Bernstein, “The Joys of Music”

“Through music the passions enjoy themselves.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche

“Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid.”
- Frank Zappa

“The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more”
- William Wordsworth, “The Solitary Reaper”

“Good music is very close to primitive language.”
- Denis Diderot, “orrespondence of Ideas with the Motion of Organs”

“All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.”
- Jean Cocteau, “Le Coq et l’Arlequin”

“Music … can name the unnamable and communicate the unknowable.”
- Leonard Bernstein

“Perhaps all music, even the newest, is not so much something discovered as something that re-emerges from where it lay buried in the memory, inaudible as a melody cut in a disc of flesh. A composer lets me hear a song that has always been shut up silent within me.”
- Jean Genet, “Prisoner of Love”

“There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies”
- Alfred Lord Tennyson, “The Lotus-Eaters”

“If music could be translated into human speech, it would no longer need to exist.”
- Ned Rorem, “Music from Inside Out”

“Alas! All music jars when the soul’s out of tune.”
- Miguel De Cervantes, “Don Quixote”

“Music is so much a part of their daily lives that if an Indian visits another reservation one of the first questions asked on his return is: “What new songs did you learn?” “
- Frances Densmore, “Chippewa Music”

“Music is a good thing; and after all that soul-butter and hogwash, I never see it freshen up things so, and sound so honest and bully.”
- Mark Twain, “The Adventures of Huck Finn”

“Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.”
- William Shakespeare, “Antony and Cleopatra”

“I am fond of music I think because it is so amoral. Everything else is moral and I am after something that isn’t. I have always found moralizing intolerable.”
- Herman Hess

“The Church knew what the psalmist knew: Music praises God. Music is well or better able to praise him than the building of the church and all its decoration; it is the Church’s greatest ornament.”
- Igor Stravinsky

“Sweet sounds, oh, beautiful music, do not cease!
Reject me not into the world again.
With you alone is excellence and peace,
Mankind made plausible, his purpose plain.”
- Edna St. Vincent Millay

“I think sometimes, could I only have music on my own terms; could I live in a great city and know where I could go whenever I wished the ablution and inundation of musical waves,—that were a bath and a medicine.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Wealth”

“The dignity of art probably appears most eminently with music since it does not have any material that needs to be discounted. Music is all form and content and elevates and ennobles everything that it expresses.”
- Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe, “Reflections in the Spirit of the Travellers”

“It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness & of pain: of strength & freedom. The beauty of disappointment & never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature, & everlasting beauty of monotony.”
- Benjamin Britten, “A Working Life”

“Lovers of painting and lovers of music are people who openly display their preference like a delectable ailment that isolates them and makes them proud.”
- Maurice Blanchot, “The Space of Literature”

“A verbal art like poetry is reflective; it stops to think. Music is immediate, it goes on to become.”
- W. H. Auden, “The Dyer’s Hand”

“The feelings that Beethoven put into his music were the feelings of a god. There was something Olympian in his snarls and rages, and there was a touch of hellfire in his mirth.”
- H. L. Mencken, “Selected Prejudices”

“All art constantly aspires towards the condition of music.”
- Walter Pater, “The School of Giorgione”

“Whatever has made, or does make, or may make music, should be held sacred as the golden bridle-bit of the Shah of Persia’s horse, and the golden hammer, with which his hoofs are shod.”
- Herman Melville

“I traveled and made money and I wouldn’t let anybody get between me and my music. If I belong to anything, I belong to my music.”
- Eva Jessye

“As polishing expresses the vein in marble, and grain in wood, so music brings out what of heroic lurks anywhere. The hero is the sole patron of music.”
- Henry David Thoreau

“So long as the human spirit thrives on this planet, music in some living form will accompany and sustain it and give it expressive meaning.”
- Aaron Copeland

“How little it takes to make us happy! The sound of a bagpipe. - Without music life would be a mistake. The German even imagines God as singing songs.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche

“I’ve never known a musician who regretted being one. Whatever deceptions life may have in store for you, music itself is not going to let you down.”
- Virgil Thomson

“And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.”
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music.”
- Robert Browning

The drunken poet bellowing in midnight’s street
shuns his own gift to embrace Bacchus

The high electric wizard dabbles in black magic
inescapably caught in his own reckless spell

The soft, elegant tunesmith dreams of peace
hushed too soon by fate’s cruel hand

The bright comet rises for all to adore
suddenly dies in a fiery crash

The bold new troubadour grins, brash and fearless
gets lost forever on a dark, lonely road

The wretched songwriter, full of pain and dread
can no longer sing his own tortured songs

I

Do

Not

Know

Quite

Exactly

Realize

Written

Words

Here

Are

Me

I

Do

Not

Know

Which

Events

Finally

Conclude

Culminate

Eventually

“Better a smart-ass than a dumb-ass” is what I always say
But let me tell you, brother, it’s not easy being this way

You have to keep on high alert to all that comes or goes
Like a midget at the urinal, you must stay on your toes

Every word that meets my ears comes in a different hue
A man tips his hat to a lady and says, “Nice to meat you”

It isn’t always wise for me to let these things be read
Sometimes things get hard on me (- that’s what SHE said!)

Innuendo is a spice that’s readily addictive
True wit follows paths that are a little more restrictive

Scenarios keep on happening; you must always be ready
And you must remember all the cracks you’ve made already

It also takes a little time for one to learn discretion
Not to take the easy swipes when wit is your possession

It’s tempting to spike each ball when trying to earn your letter
You have to let the small ones pass and wait for something better

But being such a smart-ass is not without its dangers
You have to know your audience; beware of teasing strangers

They say, “Don’t let your mouth write a check your body can’t cash”
So think twice before your double-entendres start to get too rash

There’s nothing I like better than getting in a real zinger
Some were so good that, even years later, they still linger

The fishies gotta swim and the birdies gotta fly
And I will always be a smart-ass ‘til the day I die

Why do the clouds rain?
Why does the sun shine?
Why do the winds blow?
Why does the earth turn?

Be glad when the clouds give us rain
to water our crops and wash our feet
Be ready if the rains fall too hard
and flood the rivers and fields

Be glad the sun shines down
to warm our homes and help plants grow
Be ready if the sun’s too hot
and burns our skin or dries the soil

Be glad the winds are blowing
to spin windmills and spread seeds
Be ready if the winds grow strong
and pull out all our roots

Be glad the earth turns ‘round
to bring always a new day
Be ready if it ever stops
and forces all life to end

Your left eye itches.

Right now… feel it?

Your left eye.

Twitch.
It’s dry.
So very dry.

Blinking doesn’t help.
Blink, blink, blink…
Doesn’t help.

Rub it.
You have to.
Go ahead.

But you don’t…
You don’t want to.
Don’t need to!

But it IS itchy.
You can feel it…
Dry, twitching, itchy.

Blink blink.
Nope. Still dry.
Itchingly dry.

Go on already.
Rub it!
You have a free hand.

Rub that itchy eye.
Itchy and dry.
Blinking.

Hot.
It feels kinda hot now.
Blink more.

Your right eye is fine.
But the left?
A hot, dry itch.

Scroll down some more.
Don’t think about it.
About your dry left eye.

This is silly.
I can’t make you itch.
Can I, eye?

But it does…
Itchy. Dry. Hot.
Blink-blink. Twitch.

You will rub it.
I know you will.
You can’t not.

Keep scrolling.
Keep resisting.
Keep itching.

Why fight it?
It’s your eye, after all.
It’s only an itch.

Still trying not to?
Well, get ready…
You’re gonna do it!

Even if you’ve resisted.
Made it this far, itchy.
You will rub it in the end.

Lying somewhere in a sack
Hidden fruits there can be found
Usually found two in a pack
Cute and fuzzy and so round

Nice to juggle, easy to hold
Hanging near a longer fruit
Tasty too, or so I’m told
Simply grab it by the root

Then there are two fruits I know
They’re soft and smooth and nice
Some hang high and others, low
Nibble both once or twice

Then, at last, there is the one
That drips when it is ready
That’s the fruit I find most fun
Eat slowly - hold on steady

So have yourself a bit of fun
These treats are made for pleasure
Unless, of course, you are a nun
Then they’re a forbidden treasure

(Visions inspired by the music of guitarist extraordinaire, Adrian Legg)

A regal church spire, dark against the bright blue Sunday, elegant edifice of another time, features darkened with soot but still noble and proud.


A brown cow chews her cud, stationed behind a white fence, tail-flicking flies and she waits for the next truck to pass down the dusty farm road. 


A ragged, rough seashore the morning after a big storm, driftwood and dross scattered amongst the rocks and sand, little crabs picking at the wet seaweed.


A nightmare Nutcracker, sugarplum fairy flying backwards, giant flowers loom overhead… laughing unseen things suddenly close, then gone before you can turn to see.


A crowded diner full of happy Saturday morning customers, the waitress skillfully spins to the table with a plateful of hot hash browns and bacon with two sunny-side eggs smiling up.


Gently rolling green hills of meadow grass glistening with morning dew.


A young boy, pant legs rolled up, carefully wading a shallow clear stream, shoes in hand, watching small fish scattering ahead.


Broad brown leaves flutter down, here and there, in a shady autumn oak grove.


The cheerful faces of eager barterers in a busy country marketplace.


A tired hound lifts a lazy eyelid to see his old master dancing a little jig while waiting for supper.


A rather drunken fellow attempting to gracefully navigate a cobblestone alley by moonlight.


Circus acrobats and colorful clowns performing amazing and amusing feats with brisk, concentrated confidence for a very pleased audience of clapping children.


A pretty girl sits beside an old well, a small blue flower in her hair, waiting for her someone special to come down the path.


An empty white rowboat bobbing on slow, gray waves.


Two teen boys smiling with glee, taking their just-fixed jalopy on its stuttering maiden run down a bumpy dirt road.


The ghost of a young woman searching the night in vain for a long-lost lover.


A long passenger train clicking quickly past an old deserted depot.

As I walked past tents
What I said
Was past-tense

The things I put in my mouth
And what came out
Not peace, no

As I walked past, tense
What I said
was passed tense

The things I put in my brain
And what came out
Knot piece, know

As I walked, past tense
What I say
Is now, today

The things I put in my eyes
And what came out
Not piece, know

As I walked passed tents
What I say
Is now, today

The things I put in my veins
And what came out
Knot peace, no

My friend was seduced
by a green-bottled faery  
Great peril I deduced
And thus did not tarry

I snatched the bottle free
(How that faery howled!)
I cast her into the sea
My friend jut growled

I tried vainly to note
What I was wishing
He jumped into his boat
And said, “I’m going fishing!”

A slowly creeping caterpillar

becomes a butterfly

 

The tiniest of acorns turn
to trees that scrape the sky

 

Seeds sown in the spring
turn into food in fall

 

Ducks floating on the lake

don’t even get wet at all

 

Autumn leaves change colors

although I don’t know why

 

A million things can be seen

in clouds up in the sky

Do you ever walk around and think-up thoughtful thoughts?
Ever wonder about all the shouldn’ts or about the oughts?

Did you ever hear of the beautiful Pricilla the Hun?
Second-cousin to poor, beleaguered Attila the Nun?

Can you hear the ocean’s roar in an empty yogurt cup?
Comprehend that what goes down is also what is up?

Does everything in life just have to make some sense?
Or is there room for silliness in seriousness so dense?

I’ve been around awhile and this is what I heard:
Life’s too short to overlook a love for the absurd.

I once had a thought, notion, idea
I wrote it out and it was wonderful

I elated at its brilliance, marveled
I caressed it and polished it bright

I wanted it to be even more perfect
I re-wrote it, re-positioned it just so

I stepped back for a re-evaluation
I still didn’t think it quite right

I toiled and struggled with meanings
I ironed it and honed points sharp

I looked again and noticed it tilting
I saw stains on the edges start seeping

I cleaned it up again, scrubbed deliriously
I trimmed, lopped-off overgrown parts

I stopped and checked and staggered
I wiped the sweat from my brow

I saw my once-great thing disfigured now
I had defiled its purity; it would never live

I tore and ripped and shredded my creation
I burned it down and cast it to the wind

I followed the pieces spreading about
I watched them soak black into the soil

I kicked the ground that it had stained
I overturned the dirt, to bury it forever

I noticed a movement, the tiniest twitch
I watched a new flower rise and bloom

I stood in awe of such impossible beauty
I smelled a lovely fragrance wafting over me

I stooped to pluck it for my very own
I hesitated, then chose to let it stay

I stood back up and turned away
I left that flower behind for all

People wrench and cry
Dissatisfied
With their reasons why

Perpetual heartache
For its own sake
Never give, just take

Seeking out the self
Just for yourself
All else on the shelf

Turn away from the ‘Me’
To face the ‘We’
And finally begin to see

Learn to help one another
Sister, brother
These words are for you, no other

I weep for myself 
Because nobody else dares to
I’m no less deserving of sympathy
I deserve a little compassion too
Even more so because I get none
Except that which I give myself

I talk to myself
Because nobody else dares to
I’m no less deserving of company
I deserve a little interaction too
Even more so because I get none
Except that which I give myself

I caress myself
Because nobody else dares to
I’m no less deserving of intimacy 
I deserve a little satisfaction too
Even more so because I get none
Except that which I give myself

I remember myself
Because nobody else dares to
I’m no less deserving of memory
I deserve a little recognition too
Even more so because I get none
Except that which I give myself

I forgive myself
Because nobody else dares to
I’m no less deserving of empathy 
I deserve a little absolution too
Even more so because I get none
Except that which I give myself

I should end myself
Because nobody else dares to
I’m no less deserving of finality
I deserve a little conclusion too
Even more so because I get none
Except that which I give myself