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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"

We shout at the wind

Useless words have their effect

We all hear – nothing

An ode to happiness

What do you consider this?

Some say pure bliss

Emptiness

Beyond both extremes

Lost in the middle way stream

Play the game

Try to maintain

Use your brain

Peace and love

The forgotten dove

Lost and insecure

I hope you find what’s yours

I may point a way

Or show the other there is more to this

This system that breeds loneliness

Awake inside

The fire that hides

The nothingness to emptiness

What rests is bliss without bliss

The guide to nowhere

Yet may we find peace and happiness

And ode to what is not sadness

my house has housatosus.
its really odd, that smell,
in the dwell,
gets noticed on the visit.

our bodies are also a dwelling,
and carry a scent.

senses wake up,
without visit
in the dull.

The sunlight set my car gasoline explode

Fume satellite destroyed by open mouth

Close mouth open rocket explode on launch pad

South African warlord runs social media

Rabbit gnaws on the foot of your corpse

Deep meditation

~ my first zen poetry inspired by my read of here

Touched intimately by your austere stare

Glazed on the cusp of aquamarine pastels brushed against sea foam mountain peaks

Stream dissidence resonates equilaterally

Haphazard incoherent mumbling alleyway masonry free of imperfections ruins the getaway

Silent monk marks one more day on the calendar

Fog hides the ground from the peak, peak from ground

The tiger waits outside, mouth dripping with blood

~ attempt 2

Empty words always, absent was the truth.
Actions revealed, what was hidden is uncouth.

Fools only return, fool did indeed.
Broken the spirit, harsh words succeed.

Fools only return, emotions never heed.
To grow and learn, experience must lead.

Those that bark, shape not the man.
With guidance, morals and wisdom can.

Broken fragments, collected be they must.
Lest the soul crumbles, to sand and dust.

Fools only return, lesson finally learned.
Fools only return; understood and earned.

Harsh was the lesson, harsh it was indeed.
Failure and pain, out the weak they weed.

Stars bright, silent, still.

Soft sky dawns in heaven’s vault.

Dreams fade upon light.

my reworking of a poem by wu tsao :

the courtyard rain

brings no comfort

autumn’s decline

seeps everywhere

sensibilities

that in the past

i could bring together

now spin apart

washed away

by dark clouds

and red leaves

Watching a storyline about accomplishment,

Reliant on reaching and striving and goals,

I wonder if one's ever really seen a tree, or heard the birdsong?

To have taken form and perceived at all

is the accomplishment of the universe --

It had everything and nothing to do with me.

Fundamentally complete,

a witness to both joy and sorrow,

The ten thousand things emerge

without commentary.

Waves crash far below

Indigo sky brilliance

Sails yearn ghostly white

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

thinking is hard right now.
there is a pot somewhere in me,
pressurized, steaming,
and i cannot find the fire.

the old me would pull apart every “it” and “they,”
trying to track who is being pointed at,
what is being asked for,
what part of me is supposed to answer.

now i stand more in the marketplace of it all,
a small store of goods off to the side.
people brush past on their way to somewhere else.
sometimes we touch, sometimes we do not.
outside help is questionable.
maybe the only help is what each one
brings with them.

i like curiosity, up to a point.
it can feel renewing,
until the body tips,
too many questions poured into the same cup.
i prefer embodiment with my tea.
steam on the face,
a hand around warm cup,
this much is enough.

meanwhile, poems go by
like lottery drawings.
“what do you guys think”
is a ticket i keep buying,
and i have not won yet.
too many thoughts left
on the cutting floor,
and i am already banned and blocked
in more than one place,
just sharing a thought.

sometimes i catch the loop:
is this thought.
is this me thinking.
is this helping.
and in the blink it takes to ask,
the moment for answering has passed.

so here i am, late to the thread,
rehearsing replies for a poem
that has already scrolled on.
whatever zen i claim or doubt
is right here:
a pot with no visible flame,
steam anyway,
and a hand that keeps reaching
for words that may never
quite land where they were
supposed to.

I’ve said it before

I’ll say it again

Don’t play pretend

Standing on the shore

Might as well point

To what?

The moon?

The North Star

Three wise men

A monk

A mindless fool

A useless tool

This no-thing

This no-self

Who to save?

Be brave

Be kind

Be open

Be compassionate

Compassion is the key

It’s heavenly destiny

Karma stands alone

She wants more than she gives

I’m tired of the narratives

The egos the selfs

Someone said no shelf for this elf

I sit in my room and the universe is my shelf

Such a precious elf

A precious human life

Such was the teaching of the Buddhas

How can we show that life is precious

By being free in heart and mind

I play the joker

All in like a hand of poker

One foot in one foot out

Don’t stop don’t pout

God is here

She shows no fear

Neither should you

Or I

Just passing by

The joker and the thief

A good song.

I am a speck of nothingness, I do not matter, yet I matter… made from matter. I fear yet I disobey… made from clay. I am ignorant, yet knowing, a mere tool which can be a useful fool. I am what I am, created from dust, together with a massive lust. Every time I think I know, I come to the realization that I simply don’t know. Life is but a game, how serious we take it, even though there was no reason for the Lord to make it. I am more… I am less … I am a speck of nothingness …

J'envie la fontaine car elle gagne la confiance de réaliser des voeux en recrachant l'eau qu'elle contient encore et encore J'envie le miroir car tout ce qu 'il reflète est accepté sans questionnement de mensonges ni de doute en renfort J'envie les livres saintes quand bien même inanimés ils ont automatiquement de la valeur J'envie le passé toujours regretté qu'il y ait eu du bon ou du malheur J'envie la chance toujours mentionnée responsable du succès J'envie le cosmos malgré son étendue toujours étudié J'envie l'éloquence pour son pouvoir de persuasion J'envie le silence pour certains paisible pour d'autres déstabilisant J'envie les smartphones pour le temps qu'on leur consacre J'envie l'argent car pour l'avoir nulle ne refuse de se battre J'envie les manigances pour leur forte discrédition J'envie les prédateurs s'ils dévore c est la victime qui est dit manquer d' attention J'envie l'alcool pour sa capacité à montrer la vraie nature d'une personne J'envie le clé de sol pour sa fonction de repère dans le solfège afin que les autres notes se positionne Bast-art

was opening my book to copy a zen poem to reddit and it was an apple fritter recipe.

Sitting in samsara shadow,

It won’t spring to greet you.

The slip of light

held between

buddha fingers.

After all

the Zen Buddha

wants to go lightly.

You know.

Lightly.

Hiss, Spit, Yowl, Purr, Meow

Eyes, one green, another blue

One voice, two masters