No Zen Master Me!
No Zen master me!
I’m going to my grave
gnashing my teeth
and moaning over
how neglected I was.
Damn all you false masters
of serenity! Take your calm
and shove it. Struggle
is what it means
to be alive and free.
A thousand years may be beyond me
but I can turn this morning into forever.
For thirty years I’ve studied ancient Chinese poets
and Taoist texts, and often I have longed to abjure
this world, these days, to see through the dust of our
fleeting, temporal lives and thus accede to immortality.
But, alas, and luckily for me — Character is fate.
I love this world too much to want to find a way
away from it. I give my soul to my senses.
I love the sound of birds, the sight of the wind
passing through the trees. I live for the swollen cock,
the soaking cunt, a bowl of vegetables and noodles,
a cup of wine, the sweet aroma of some tea.
How could heaven be anywhere but here?
This place, this momentary now, today — is eternity
and it is here in me and in my dying life.