PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The bullshit that can be named

Is not the eternal bullshit,

Pathless is the path,

Thoughtless is the thought,

Vague and profound

Is its practitioner.



A journey of a thousand thoughts

Begins with one shot of whiskey --

Formless is the mother

Of all the tiny fuckers under

Your feet.



Look at it -- it is invisible,

Touch it -- it is intangible,

Smell it -- it is odorless,

Taste it -- it is tasteless,

Feel it -- it is one big pain

In your ass.



Thought without miracle,

Confused like the clearest mud,

Just think -- it is I that thinks

Or is not I at all?



Shine without luster,

Talk perpetual gibberish,

Do without doing,

Burp like a little child.



Hear one hand clapping,

Choke on the misty bone,

Laugh the laughter

Of emptiness.



It goes by a thousand names,

Some have called it

Bullshit, some have called it

Nothing at all --

It smiles like a fat Buddha,

If you see it on the road,

Kill it.



September 4, 2009