TAME SIBERIAN TIGERS
My mother could tame Siberian tigers
and really make them earn their stripes -
teach penguin choirs to sing colour harmonies,
there always was time for another story,
and tattoo a bamboo tune on a samurai-soul river-boat...
so she corrected the street-directory of the whole wide world,
my mother, who could tame Siberian tigers,
pushed those old reel-to-reels in several languages,
would not be a good little secretary, but rhymed instead
stack another bookshelf, fit in a crossword or three
run a quick drawing workshop before tea, gringos dingos fishes dishes
and really make them earn their stripes,
then rewrite that scene with the two opposing armies
mention satellites and mythology all in one
patch Hansel's pants and darn Goliath's socks,
but the Philistines want red noodles for dinner, promised
to teach penguin choirs to sing colour harmonies -
now the Spartans are beatboxing backstage someplace
and Jonah's playing solitaire, no sign of Hamlet
make some more petals for Esther, rocks for David,
and that whale's picketing the Japanese brewery,
and there's always room for another story -
like the one about the very last grandmother on Earth
or how there was a bunyip living in our bathtub...
so now she has a bus ticket to the Moon, one way,
hope she sends my regards to Hans Christian
and I'll tattoo a bamboo tune on a samurai-soul river-boat,
for now it's been raining here, but the trees are all flowering
they swim in the wind and there's petals everywhere:
just like my mother, who could tame Siberian tigers!
GENERATIONS
He' s got himself quite a name, like a creaky old tree
talks up a whole river meandering nearby -
he knows the ground hereabouts like the back of his hand,
grew a few generations of turnips and grandchildren
( and just so's you don't mistake his work for another's )
he' s got himself quite a name, like a creaky old tree
and as the pig-fat banjos shiver and pop
so another day bubbles and winds
cloud alphabets leaf dialogues
talks up a whole river meandering nearby
a clatter of nouns a wash of adjectives
even the jokes are hand-reared here
there's mountains of song and laughter,
he knows the ground hereabouts like the back of his hand,
and once cut down a whole forest, then grew it back again
there's more stories than pine needles
but the soil's pretty good round here, good for
growing a few generations of turnips and grandchildren
so life floats like an owl feather downstream,
ah yes, he' s got himself quite a name, like a creaky old tree.
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Creation: only the clouds remained to be touched up as their white meanderings were not quite complete over the swaying treetops.
Ikkiru put down his meager back pack, and tipped back his straw hat.
The lake appeared before him as a mirror, as it had always been, and he regarded its silence wistfully.
He'd walked away from the jeweled palace, the ivory throne, the enameled crown.
The silence was punctuated briefly by a solitary crow, distantly laughing at some private joke.
Maintenance: only the last obdurate ones had remained behind to be talked up, their grey minds not quite complete over their swaying eyes.
Ikkiru put down his hands, gave his meager blessings, and it was more than enough for them all.
The lake appeared a beaten copper basin, not as it had always been, and he regarded this disquiet wistfully.
He'd walked away from the fame and the fortune, the razzle dazzle of talk-back shows, the stupid press interviews.
The silence would return, punctuated by a solitary heartbeat, his own private joke.
Dissolution: only the flames remained to overtake the orange horizon, their ever-hungry tongues not quite reaching his bare bare feet.
He moved off the pedestal carefully, avoiding the scuttering skulls and weaving snakes, stepping in between the simmering boils of rock.
The lake was a seething cauldron of melting bones, screaming and clanking into the flowing darkness.
Ikkiru regarded this hell wistfully.
He'd walked away from the sulphur throne, the screaming labyrinth, the power over flesh and bone.
The silence was a memory, as the ground convulsed and churned underfoot, a great writhing heartbeat of the eternal beast.
Concealment: only the clouds remained as he finally touched them, their blue meanderings complete over the spraying treetops.
Ikkiru picked up his meager back pack, and tipped back his straw hat.
The lake appeared as a mirror before him, just as it had always done, and he was the silence.
He'd walked away from the jeweled throngs, the talk-back labyrinth, the enameled flesh and bone.
The silence was punctuated by a solitary heartbeat, as he turned and went back to the world.
Grace: beyond words
addendum 1
May I know all sounds as my own sound,
may I know all lights as my own own light,
may I know all the rays as my own ray,
may I spontaneously know the bardo as myself,
may I attain the realms of truth, joy and creation.
traditional prayer
addendum 2
...application of Truth ( dharma ) as a word to phenomena
indicates the orderly nature of existence : the Universe is the expression of Law....
Master Sutegi
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OVER AND OUT
Rhyme like you mean it :
not 'cause the script calls for it
and the light guy used to be a pro wrestler
falling over and under and over and right out -
dance like you mean it :
not 'cause it's on the tape,
and the bar maid was an astronaut
falling over and under and left out -
laugh like you mean it -
not 'cause it's on the news
and the janitor used to be a politician
falling over and under and right out -
flip like you mean it:
not' cause it's on the score-card
and the cabbie was a TV personality
falling over and under and left out -
dance the laugh and flip the rhyme,
falling over and under and out
seems like they all got a story or three
falling over and under and left right out!
© ivan gabriel rehorek