FROM OF THE CYCLE OF CHAPBOOKS #7


STANDING JUST OFF SCREEN - The inception of the Bodhisattva Underground




                         



MAITREYA CYCLE ONE : OPENING THE HEART OF COMPASSION




A CHAPBOOK OF SOME SAMPLE POEMS

from a very special Project





THE HUMAN TIDE





This is The Field Hospital

seen in a dream,

built along every boarder,

knitting the World together

- a barbed wire fence

lined with hungry children

like a seam.

First your eyes meet one child's eyes.

But then, soon others

will close over that one

like desperate waters.

And across space, over time

and across time filling space

that one will become so many

- an ocean and a tide

coming in from every side

carrying wounds on face and limb

and filled with pain inside

want for provision,

want for medicine and

want for a teacher and mentor

in their eyes.


Where are Heaven's Angels?

Where is an Answer from the Sky?


Whose heart can then grow large enough

to face this Human Tide?







MY SONG FOR THEM




From heaven earth looks like heaven


the green of trees

that fan the shade


that cools the path


of gentle beasts

that breathes out the air…



...that sweet and scented with green


is good to breathe.





From heaven earth looks like heaven

her great womb seas

that wing and hoof and paw


and hive and hand


all share as the origin


of their mysteries.



But, Earth she crouches on a cloth

at the crossroads of Man's vanities

hollow eyed and hollow cheeked


one arm gathers a sad eyed doll, her baby


to a drought and famine flattened breast

the other thin arm outstretched


from her wedding dress


in a desert oasis - her dust covered tongue

moving to those ancient prayers

mothers have always prayed for their children


in a cursed season, in a season

when neighbor falls upon neighbor
and

man falls upon woman.


This disease of reason


spreads like a blight


from farm to farm

and in time, in time

from nation to nation.




You will find this woman

in all of them, that doll-like child,

her anguished face,


and outstretched arm,


in time, in time


in all of them!


She will cry out for her children


in all of them.


From Heaven Earth looks like a heaven

with a girdle of ocean


and clouds like scarves

she seems a sweet diva

dancing across a jeweled heaven.




She seems like a jewel, like a promise,

like a Vision.




From heaven - Earth looks like a heaven



Men have long abandoned.


This poem is for the girls and women of Afghanistan.










an After Note:


REMEMBERING THE BLOSSOMS





Remembering the blossoms of the garden

bring to mind the lot of baby-girls, girls

and women and make this wish:


“May each and every one of them,

never be separated from their dignity, 

their rights or the safe-keeping of

their beloved ones” until that day,

(when life done), an angel comes to

heal them back to Heaven.



May this good wish prayer call forth a remedy

so that the violence of the fist and the World

be sucked like venom from a bite, and

all that is wholesome and what is whole

is restored to them and made secure.







SOME MORE SCENES FROM THE PURELAND OF THE VOLCANOES




    Now that the morning geese of our famous days no longer

    ring loud enough to wake us

    and now that the days of war are at our door


    the drought has come from hell with pestilence,

    fire, ice and storm...

                         Leonid Temple






Between the final Nirvana two and a half millennia ago of the Siddhārtha Gautama and the descent of the next Buddha, Maitreya, into his last womb, it is said in the tales that are told that 5.6 billion years must pass. But what human society is simple enough be passed on in mere whispers, yet strong enough in moral tensile strength to so long endure without a Buddha in the World?


This is the tale I come to you to tell…





MAITREYA CYCLE TWO : The Assembly of Bhodisattvas Arise






IN THE LAST DAYS OF THE DHARMA


A Prophecy for our time being a True Prophecy

having as it does the Three Parts of a True Prophecy:

A Prophecy of the Past, a Prophecy of the Present

and a Prophecy of the Future!







THE PROPHECY OF THE PAST: A WARNING TO THE NATIONS



For some Nations, like it is for some Men,

dark deeds breed bright joy.

Consider the True Dharma

and the value a people place on self tamed

upright women and upright men

who speak not to manipulate but

but from good-will's revelation. And

has not the World passed into the days

in which every new Winter leaves the Spring

with less of the truth and fewer good men

and women? Just think

back to that Nation that

in ignorance of tolerance and love of spite

blew up the statues of our Teacher, his acolyte

and with that flame raised a torch

wicked enough to invite

the dragons from over the Horizon

and the serpents down out of the Night!

For some Nations, like it is for some Men

- dark deeds breed bright joy.








THE PROPHECY OF THE PRESENT: THE GOOD KINGDOM






1. DHARMA GOES INTO THE NIGHT


When a Great Evil is done

and Good People

go to their beds

to cover their

heads

in doubt and

hesitation,

Bad Men

will hear

the crow on the wire

call to crow on the wing


“This is a Season

one can do such a thing!”


and howl hails to their

were-wolf Nations.






2. THE THREAT ON THE HORIZON




From lands North and lands East, two Nations, each

at the end of a story that was but war after war,

having eaten every neighbor, eyes dry, without Law

like two bully brothers on a playground that seeing

a stranger see opportunities. Their Game, please?

One to menace, the other to stifle

a giggle and kneel behind knees. These

International Bullies are eager for profit

and casual about cruelty.


Fate brought wind. Fate brought thunder.

Two armies - two rivers pouring together

into a vein full of venom marching

for the sake of plunder.


In the West was a king and kingdom

that remembered still Heaven,

that empowered by blessings

and a strong store of merit,

went out of its walls

to confront and to face them. When


Evil reared, Good fought back, and

- when Good fell back, Good then

rallied to halt, break and march them

- these men with vile intentions

to the wilds of wilderness

where exile is prison…

… until the Evil season when

again they quicken.




3. THE BIG PARTY



The King, flushed with triumph,

rushed to celebration

of his reputation

and burned up his merit

in a minute

as he danced a jig

to his gathering friends

assembled to welcome

their King and Legend! Then


the King invited monks, nuns

his sponsors among the rich,

laywomen and laymen

of every sect. Of every tradition.


He poured them together

like treasure of every hunt and harvest

tomato, plumb and potato and squash

into one pot - he stirred them!


But like cats forced together

in to one box, the guests were

soon given to bumping purrs, like curs

bearing teeth and growling

- but yet, yes he stirred them!


Like old men from old wars

rounded up with

drums and bugles

to listen to politicians

to divide and conquer, who

reopen old wounds to remind

them of old rivalries. So soon

the Hall rocked with revelry,

with rough courtesy and

the fistfights that accompany

alcohol with and alcohol’s

troop of careless and vulgar

assertions.


The pot boiled! The pot spit soup!

The whole Hall boiled! The pot spit soup!

Hit! Hit!

Beat! Beat!


When the pot spat soup it spat hot meat,

hot knots of bone, hot sauce

and spittle of hot, hot grease!

Hit! Hit!

Beat! Beat!


Beat! Beat!

And to boot…


a rock was thrown! An old monk,

(the best of them), fell down.

Stood, bloody, then

fell down again, he

the most humble, most lauded

most pious of them.


Hit! Hit!

Beat! Beat!


Hit! Hit!

Beat! Beat!

And as the melee poured

boiling from the pot

blood flowed out, more -

monks, struck, fell down

and nuns were drowned!


The whole room fought

from wall to wall

and Hid by War


the laymen and laywomen

snuck out the door!


Hit! Hit!

Beat! Beat!


Soon rumors fled like crows

from every tower o'er

the kingdom in an hour,

with horror and the rumor

and painted red

all sides were slaughtered

when some one said


- THE LAST ARAHANT IS DEAD!”






THE PROPHECY OF THE FUTURE: A NEW BUDDHIST INSTITUTION - A GUILD OF MALE AND FEMALE LAY BODHISATTVAS, [GṚHAPATI]





With the Sangha ended

the Dharma bled out

of its corpse like heat.


And the lay folks in their

houses meet

to pray:

“The time of a Buddha

had seen its last day.”


And as the lay folks in their

houses meet

to pray to collect their books

like Dharma bones,

they met to plan a path

to endure to the last

of an AEON OF A WINTER

- as it is said:


“…until Maitreya’s mother

cries out

from her birthing bed!”





i Based on NATTIER, Jan. Once Upon a Future Time - Studies in Buddhist Prophecies of Decline. Asian Humanities Press, 1991.