only this
matters: this ecstatic
baptism

this standing on stick-
thin legs where the singing
creek pools at the lip
of the waterfall

only this
ruby-feathered
chest diving to meet
its reflection

this beak piercing
again and again that quivering
surface, these wings half-
unfolding, a ruffle

of joy guiding rivers
of light a tumble
of droplets dressed
in rainbows along your hidden
spine

shattering all
decorum beneath
blue branches in quiet

assent. . .

Elizabeth Reninger

Treading along in this dreamlike, illusory realm,
Without looking for the traces I may have left;
A cuckoo's song beckons me to return home;
Hearing this, I tilt my head to see
Who has told me to turn back;
But do not ask me where I am going,
As I travel in this limitless world,
Where every step I take is my home.

Dogen

For six years sitting alone
still as a snake
in a stalk of bamboo
with no family
but the ice
on the snow mountain
Last night
seeing the empty sky
fly into pieces
he shook
the morning star awake
and kept it in his eyes

Muso Soseki

Native Americans Online(click for more information)

I
How bright the moonlight
how bright the moonlight
as I ride in with my load of buffalo meat.

II
My father did not recognize me.
Next time he saw me he said,
You are the child of a crow.

III
I am looking at my father
I am looking at him
he is beginning to turn into a bird
turning into a bird

IV
They say
the spirit army is approaching,
the spirit army is approaching,
the whole world is moving onward,
the whole world is moving onward.
See, everybody is standing, watching.
Everybody is standing, watching.

V
The whole world is coming,
a nation is coming, a nation is coming.
The Eagle has brought the message to the people.
The father says so, the father says so.
Over the whole earth they are coming.
The buffalo are coming, the buffalo are coming.
The Crow has brought the message to the people,
the father says so, the father says so.

VI
My children, my children,
it is I who wear the morning star on my brow,
it is I who wear the morning star on my brow.
I show it to my children,
I show it to my children.

Arapaho Ghost Dance Song

If life remains, I shall go back to the tavern
and do no other work than serve the revelers.
Happy day when, with streaming eyes,
I shall go again to sprinkle the tavern floor.
There is no knowledge among these folk,
Suffer me, God, to offer my jewel of self to another buyer.
If the Friend has gone, rejecting the claim of old friendship,
God forbid I should go and look for another friend.
If the turn of the heavenly wheel favor me
I shall find some other craft to bring him back.

My soul seeks wholeness, if that be permitted
by his wanton glance and bandit tresses.
See our guarded secret, a ballad sung
with drum and flute at the gate of another bazaar.
Every moment I sigh in sorrow, for fate, every hour
strikes at my wounded heart with another torment.
Yet truly I say: Hafiz is not alone in this plight;
So many others were swallowed in the desert.

Hafiz

Had back pain so bad I had to leave
work early. Went to the E.R. yesterday,
but it's feeling better.

This place is a dream
only a sleeper considers it real
then death comes like dawn
and you wake up laughing
at what you thought
was your grief

A man goes to sleep in the town
where he has always lived
and he dreams
he's living in another town
in the dream he doesn't remember
the town he's sleeping in his bed in
he believes the reality
of the dream town
the world is that kind of sleep

Humankind is being led
along an evolving course,
through this migration
of intelligences
and though we seem
to be sleeping
there is an inner wakefulness,
that directs the dream
and that will eventually
startle us back
to the truth of
who we are.

Rumi

Tech Billionaire Song

The honey bee, a little tiger,
is not addicted to the taste of sugar;
his nature is to extract the juice
from the sweet lotus flower!

Dakinis, above, below, and on earth,
unimpeded by closeness and distance,
will surely extract the blissful essence
when the yogins bound by pledges gather.

The sun, the king of illumination,
is not inflated by self-importance;
by the karma of sentient beings,
it shines resplendent in the sky.

When the sun perfect in skill and wisdom
dawns in the sky of the illuminated mind,
without conceit, you beautify
and crown the beings of all three realms.

The smiling faces of the radiant moon
are not addicted to hide and seek;
by its relations with the sun,
the moon takes waning and waxing forms.

Though my gurus, embodiment of all refuge,
are free of all fluctuation and of faults,
through their flux-ridden karma the disciples perceive
that the guru's three secrets display all kinds of effulgence.

Constellations of stars adorning the sky
are not competing in a race of speed;
due to the force of energy's pull,
the twelve planets move clockwise with ease.

Guru, deity, and dakini -- my refuge --
though not partial toward the faithful,
unfailingly you appear to guard
those with fortunate karma blessed.

The white clouds hovering above on high
are not so light that they arise from nowhere;
it is the meeting of moisture and heat
that makes the patches of mist in the sky.

Those striving for good karma
are not greedy in self-interest;
by the meeting of good conditions
they become unrivaled as they rise higher.

The clear expanse of the autumn sky
is not engaged in the act of cleansing;
yet being devoid of all obscuration,
its pure vision bejewels the eyes.

The groundless sphere of all phenomena
is not created fresh by a discursive mind;
yet when the face of ever-presence is known,
all concreteness spontaneously fades away.

Rainbows radiating colors freely
are not obsessed by attractive costumes;
by the force of dependent conditions,
they appear distinct and clearly.

This vivid appearance of the external world,
though not a self-projected image,
through the play of fluctuating thought and mind,
appears as paintings of real things.

Kelsang Gyatso

At dusk, at dawn I gaze upon your beauty --
A dazzling spectacle of rising moon and sun.

So far, the wayfarers have not discovered your footprints:
They stand staring at the stepstone of your door

Your glance of abundant grace did not satisfy;
We with the seeing eye know a glance from a glance.

Saqi, they've just arrived and taken their seats;
How is it that they've already gained intimacy?

Some you inspire with the madness of prostration:
They cannot tell their heads from your door.

Saqi, whoever comes by even a tinge of awakening
We see sitting in your assembly, oblivious to this world.

Men who are maddened by the thought of the goal
See not fellow travelers -- they are intent on the road.

Master, in what strange state your Darshan lives:
We always see his eyes moist with tears.

Darshan Singh

'A lover', said the hoopoe, now their guide,
'Is one in whom all thoughts of self have died;
Those who renounce the self deserve that name;
Righteous or sinful, they are all the same!
Your heart is thwarted by the self's control;
Destroy its hold on you and reach your goal.
Give up this hindrance, give up mortal sight,
For only then can you approach the light.
If you are told: "Renounce our Faith," obey!
The self and Faith must both be tossed away;
Blasphemers call such action blasphemy --
Tell them that love exceeds mere piety.
Love has no time for blasphemy or faith,
Nor lovers for the self, that feeble wraith.

Farid ud-Attar

One day in that room, a small rat.
Two days later, a snake.

Who, seeing me enter,
whipped the long stripe of his
body under the bed,
then curled like a docile house-pet.

I don't know how either came or left.
Later, the flashlight found nothing.

For a year I watched
as something -- terror? happiness? grief? --
entered and then left my body.

No knowing how it came in.
Not knowing how it went out.

It hung where words could not reach it.
It slept where light could not go.
Its scent was neither snake nor rat,
neither sensualist nor ascetic.

There are openings in our lives
of which we know nothing.

Through them
the belled herds travel at will,
long-legged and thirsty, covered with foreign dust.

Jane Hirshfield

We have turned the face of our dawn
studies toward the drunkard's road.
The harvest of our prayers we've
turned toward the granary
of the ecstatic
soul.

The fire toward which we have
turned our face is so intense
It would set fire to
the straw harvest
of a hundred
reasonable
men.

The Sultan of Pre-Eternity gave us
the casket of love's grief as a gift;
Therefore we have turned
our sorrow toward this
dilapidated traveler's
cabin that we
call "the
world."

From now on I will leave no doors in
my heart open for love of beautiful
creatures;
I have turned and set
the seal of divine lips
on the door
of this
house.

It's time to turn away from make-believe
under our robes patched so many times.
The foundation for our work is an
intelligence that sees
through all
these
games.

We have turned our face to the pearl
lying on the ocean floor.
So why then should
we worry if this
wobbly old
boat keeps
going
or not?

We turn to the intellectuals and call them parasites
of reason;
Thank God they are like true
lovers faithless
and without
heart.

The Sufis have settled for a fantasy,
and Hafiz is no different.
How far out of reach our
goals, and how
weak our
wills
are!

Hafiz

The garden is breathing out the air of Paradise today,
Toward me, a friend with a sweet nature, and this wine.

It's all right for the beggar to brag that he is a King today.
His royal tent is a shadow thrown by a cloud; his throne room is a sown field.

This meadow is composing a tale of a spring day in May;
The serious man lets the future go and accepts the cash now.

Do you really believe your enemy will be faithful to you?
The candle the hermit lights goes out in the worldly church.

Make your soul strong then by feeding it the secret wine.
When we have turned to dust, this rotten world will press our dust into bricks.

My life is a black book. But don't rebuke me too much.
No person can ever read the words written on his own forehead.

When Hafiz's coffin comes by, it'll be all right to follow behind.
Although he is a captive of sin, he is on his way to the Garden.

Hafiz

One point contains all;
Learn about the One, forget the rest.
Forget hell and the terrible grave;
Leave the ways of sin and purify
Your heart.
That's how the argument is spun:
It's all contained in One!

Why rub your head against the earth?
What point in your vain prostration?
Your Kalimah read, makes others laugh.
You do not grasp the Lord's word!
Somewhere the truth is written down:
It's all contained in One!

Some go to the jungle in vain
And starve and cause themselves some pain;
They waste their time with all this
And come home tired, nothing gained!

Find your master and become God's slave.
In this way you'll be free of care;
Free of desire, free of worry,
And your heart truthful, pure.

Bulleh has discovered this truth alone:
It's all contained in One!

Bulleh Shah

BizarroBlog

The drop dies in the river
of its joy
pain goes so far it cures itself

in the spring after the heavy rain the cloud
disappears
that was nothing but tears

in the spring the mirror turns green
holding a miracle
Change the shining wind

the rose led us to our eyes

let whatever is be open

Mirza Ghalib

Keep on knocking
'til the joy inside
opens a window
look to see who's there

Rumi

Temple of the Dog "Hunger Strike"

I don't mind stealing bread
From the mouths of decadence
But I can't feed on the powerless
When my cup's already overfilled,
But it's on the table
The fire is cooking
And they're farming babies
While slaves are working
Blood is on the table
And the mouths are choking
But I'm growing hungry

I don't mind stealing bread
From the mouths of decadence
But I can't feed on the powerless
When my cup's already overfilled
But it's on the table

The fires cooking

And they're farming babies
While the slaves are all working
And it's on the table
The mouths are choking
But I'm growing hungry
I'm going hungry

click below it's worth it!

song could not embed<>
"Hunger Strike"

The sun can only be seen by the light
of the sun. The more a man or woman knows,
the greater the bewilderment, the closer
to the sun the more dazzled, until a point
is reached where one no longer is.

A mystic knows without knowledge, without
intuition or information, without contemplation
or description or revelation. Mystics
are not themselves. They do not exist
in selves. They move as they are moved,
talk as words come, see with sight
that enters their eyes. I met a woman
once and asked her where love had led her.
"Fool, there's no destination to arrive at.
Loved one and lover and love are infinite."

Farid ud-Din Attar

Don't Worry Please Please How Many Times Do I Have To Say It
Eat The Wind Eat The Water Nobody Can Say How
The Edges Of The Sword Are Life And Death
Empty Belly No Wine It's Freezing
Even Before Trees Rocks I Was Nothing
Even If Buddha Himself Kneeled At My Deathbed
Even In Its Scabbard My Sword
Even Rinzai's Disciples Don't Know
A Flower Held Up Twirled Between Human Fingers
Flowers Are Silent Silence Is Silent The Mind
Flute Notes Bring Gods Demons Only That Music
For Us No Difference Between Reading Eating Singing
Forget What The Masters Wrote Truth's A Razor
Frogs At The Bottom Of A Well Like You Idiot
Fuck Flattery Success Money
The Girl Listening To The Poet Bursting With Poems Thinks Nothing

Ikkyu

What I eat is divine
What I drink is divine
My bed is also divine
The divine is here, and it is there
There is nothing empty of divine
Jani says---Vithabai has filled
everything from the inside out

Janabai

My soul arose at dawn and, listening, heard
One voice abroad, a solitary bird,
A song not master of its note, a cry
That persevered into eternity.
My soul leaned out into the dawn to hear
In the world's solitude its winged compeer
And, hearkening what the Angel had to say,
Saw lustre in midnight and a secret day
Was opened to it. It beheld the stars
Born from a thought and knew how being prepares.
Then I remembered how I woke from sleep
And made the skies, built earth, formed ocean deep.

Sri Aurobindo

My joy --
My Hunger --
My Shelter --
My Friend --
My Food for the journey --
My journey's End --
You are my breath,
My hope,
My companion,
My craving,
My abundant wealth.
Without You -- my Life, my Love --
I would never have wandered across these endless countries.
You have poured out so much grace for me,
Done me so many favors, given me so many gifts --
I look everywhere for Your love --
Then suddenly I am filled with it.
O Captain of my Heart
Radiant Eye of Yearning in my breast,
I will never be free from You
As long as I live.
Be satisfied with me, Love,
And I am satisfied.

Rabia

When my heart came to rule
in the world of love,
it was freed
from both belief
and from disbelief.

On this journey,
I found the problem
to be myself.

When I went beyond myself,
the pathway finally opened.

Mahsati Ganjavi

As once the winged energy of delight
carried you over childhood's dark abysses,
now beyond your own life build the great
arch of unimagined bridges.

Wonders happen if we can succeed
in passing through the harshest danger;
but only in a bright and purely granted
achievement can we realize the wonder.

To work with Things in the indescribable
relationship is not too hard for us;
the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,
and being swept along is not enough.

Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the chasm between two
contradictions... For the god
wants to know himself in you.

Rilke

If the Ganga flows to the ocean
and the ocean turns her away,
tell me, O Vitthal,
who would hear her complaint?

Can the river reject its fish?
Can the mother spurn her child?

Jan says,
Lord,
you must accept those
who surrender to you.

Janabai

There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness.
We are lutes, no more, no less. If the soundbox
is stuffed full of anything, no music.
If the brain and belly are burning clean
with fasting, every moment a new song comes out of the fire.
The fog clears, and new energy makes you
run up the steps in front of you.
Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry.
Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.
When you're full of food and drink, Satan sits
where your spirit should, an ugly metal statue
in place of the Kaaba. When you fast,
good habits gather like friends who want to help.
Fasting is Solomon's ring. Don't give it
to some illusion and lose your power,
but even if you have, if you've lost all will and control,
they come back when you fast, like soldiers appearing
out of the ground, pennants flying above them.
A table descends to your tents,
Jesus' table.
Expect to see it, when you fast, this table
spread with other food, better than the broth of cabbages.

Rumi