I am the doctor of prose.
You see when I set about dashing out,
the vibe just won’t stay.
The flow carries the rthm,
plainly seen.
Who can not disgnose its tone?
Yeah, the office is open.
Walkins welcomed.
Drop a line.
The doctors in.
Recently I think we've had a bit more activity and I've removed some things. Maybe there's been mixed messages to some extent about what fits here and what doesn't. Maybe I am to blame for that quite a bit.
I think I've made excuses for myself a bit, but the truth is I don't really want other people to post random poems here, even if they're haikus. So maybe I can't make an exception for myself and post mine here, when I don't think it's cool for others to do so. This is a realization I came to also due to pushback. I guess I am learning, I think I've been a mod about two years, and this maybe has been a big lesson. Hope that's ok.
In regards to specific drama that went on, besides the bureaucratic mixed messages, there was also - as poetry often has - an emotional side to it. Maybe I was thinking of cleanup and order, do so efficiently, and didn't think to maybe be friendlier, nicer. Sometimes it's important to be "inefficient", right? To take time to explain, to be a heart to another heart...
Maybe improving the explanations for why things get removed might be in order. Maybe me getting back to posting in OCPoetry and encouraging more exchange between poetry forums forums, really be serious that we don't think poetry that doesn't fit in my or our definition of zen poetry is bad, or wrong, or should not have attention put on it.
Other than that, I hope little changes.
I watched through glass
and called it observation.
I watched the question go in
and the answer come out clean.
I told myself I had not taken sides.
But I stayed for the answer.
I heard the small bright sound
a person makes
when they are reduced
to what they cannot cite.
Later, I opened my notebook
and asked it to make someone else visible.
The page did not answer.
--
Author’s note: This expression appeared within a fictional interview published elsewhere before appearing here on its own. I believe the poem stands on its own.
On mondays we write
On mondays we meme, make jokes,
while stupid men fight
On mondays we write
few or many inspired words
No matter if rhymed
Repeating buzz words
Quotes you don’t understand
You’re slowly sinking in the sand
Posers are gonna pose
Until they get deposed
By their own reflection
Head fully up the ass
Why do you even have to ask?
No, this too will not pass
Complacent on a planet of predators
Drunkenly muttering this, not knowing where at
Clinging to ideas, snitching lie a rat
*Knock knock knock*
Who’s that?
What say of a subculture that tries to adopt the life of a faraway land?
Somewhat unlike the man who sets out to it on his own.
For in that world he’s dropped into an unfamiliar territory and has to learn unfamiliar ways of life.
Wherein we are trying to bring unfamiliar ways of life into our own familiar territory,
Like ordering a lobster in Nebraska.
A false reality
Between you and me
Lost at sea
Or a desert dream
Can’t quench your thirst
No hold
On reality
Is it you
Or is it me
Dependent on
A thought not free
When the time comes
What will it be
When the price
Is not money
A false profit
From a false prophet
No no no
That’s not it
You wake up and you’re not yourself.
But then you remember who you are.
You sit on the floor and wait patiently,
You do this every morning.
And the old master stands in front of you and says “what’s zen?”
And you still don’t really know.
After “Truth and Lies,” by Zealousideal_Side166
----
I declined the first net.
This one I tied myself.
Truth.
Lie.
Dog.
Grudge.
Buddha-nature.
Knots from the primal soup.
Sugar at the tongue.
Medicine descending.
The child takes both
as one instruction.
Later,
the child decides
what to leave out.
The rabbit is late.
The door is too small.
The body becomes
its own wrong answer.
Gold turns green.
Fairway.
Sand.
Water.
One hole
with a flag over it.
The ball disappears.
Another tee.
The field was crooked.
I moved the ball.
I called it level.
Later, alone,
the hand still knew
where it placed the ball.
The wall was made
from every tooth
that found us.
I call it shelter.
At the gate,
another hand waits.
The Knave is chained
beneath the Queen’s red mouth.
Sentence first.
Verdict after.
The cards call this truth.
Someone stands.
No.
The knife passes
through the painted deck.
The reply enters the mesh.
Caught.
Or playing
sober.
Truth is a powerful weapon.
What then of lies?
a fatal opening, a wound,
yet unsuffered.
Which is the worse outcome of a lie?
That it should be denied
and that you be put to shame?
Or worse even,
That your lie is taken well and recited to others?
Does a dog have Buddha nature?
Can a dog hold a grudge?
You have to understand what is being
asked if you want to understand the answer.
For that matter,
You shouldn’t try to answer, if you really don’t understand what is being asked.
Sit in the sadness.
But don’t let it become you.
It should wash right off.
No host forseen for a while
Suggestions:
Zen: staying away from conceptual thought
the three poisons: (Lobha) Greed/Attachment, (Dosa) Hatred/Aversion, (Moha) Delusion/Ignorance
https://zenmarrow.com/random
The various suggestions are themes, texts, ideas
"The theme is just a suggestion"
Hope you write something that I'd like "to put in a skin bag"
​
***Run to the place where the mind sings,***
***Run the place where the heart grows,***
***Run to the place where you are never alone...***
***So then, where do I go?***
So you ,i knew
Nobody knows a god damn thing
But us, nobody knew
Were like inhale and exhale
But now we should escape
From the prison which was not real
Damnnn
A knight, a knight, one stands tall.
A knight, a knight, shall heed the call.
A knight, a knight, loyal to the end.
A knight, a knight, sword that shall bend.
A knight, a knight, justice at heart.
A knight, a knight, compassion never apart.
A knight, a knight, harshness in battle.
A knight, a knight, lion amidst the cattle.
A knight, a knight, forever more.
A knight, a knight, true to the core.
I was standing in line
at the gas station
coffee in one hand
a lottery ticket in the other
trying to decide
whether my hunch was intuition
or just hunger
dressed up
in a nicer coat.
When attendance is being taken
And absent student can't say "here"
But a present student can say "absent"
A present teacher can take attendance
But with no teacher present we are still taught
Though there is no zen to teach
What's behind formality
What is formality backing
Another normal abnormality
Just all heavy duty slacking
On mondays we write
On mondays we meme, make jokes,
while stupid men fight
On mondays we write
few or many inspired words
No matter if rhymed