Spontaneous Ecstatic Poetry and Prose II

C Christian Dahinden By C Christian Dahinden, 2nd Mar 2013 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

These are selections of the ecstatic poetry and prose that spontaneously combust from my being, sweeping pen over page as I watch. What I "hear" is too beautiful to express. The best I can do is translate and something is always lost in translation. Just don't mistake the signpost for the destination no matter how ornate or simple it is decorated.

The Game of Conversation

The game has long begun
The end is still

"The truth is"
I said
"I feel"

"Well I know"
I said
"I understand"

"Do I"
I ask
"I think"

Curious I AM
never said a word

The Wonder of Life

Life is a wonder
But we dismiss the mystery

And it is folly to believe

We plunder
Life's sweetest secret
With science and philosophy

Trying by might
That we might
Make sense of the human senses

Our freedom is uncertainty
And uncertainty our plight

Our struggle and fight
But flight and flee

When said and done
When all is gone and come
It is all one
Our questions illusory

Wandering the moment
Wondering what it is to be free
When we are and forever will be

If Only a Seed

If only a seed
Of my deeper dream
Should awaken
Flowering into deed

Then may be

A hundred blossoms would follow
And soon a field would be sown
As far flung as the wind may blow

But what may be

We may never know

The Flowers of Speech

Flowering speech
Calling life itself to hearken

The word is motion
Vibrating
Electric

It moves about in the rip curl
Of a quantum wave

A psychic entity
A ritual of rhythm
Expressing itself

Dancing with the brimming void
Yet to be
Returning a mystery freed

So keep your flowers gathered close to your window
Where their fragrance is ever near

That you remember to choose blossoms
Which sweeten your deeds

For your seed syllables
Bear fruit accordingly

This Life

This life can be
A famine of hearts
underfed and overbled

Tears torn from eyes that would gladly shed
For those they love

Mind caught in a grey grip
Memory flickering images of pains past
Shone upon the screen of consciousness

But the flicker comes from the projector
Tickling, teasing and ultimately taunting the perceptor
Escape in every effort

The one who would
Is not

The one who is
Isn't caught

I Say then You Say And

I say ,"Then"
You say, "And"

It is always in our heads

"Yes" you say
But I play

The games are always in our heads

A 2-way relay
Of our "insteads"

The pictures we replay
Lead to dead ends

Mistakes are never repaid
The road just bends

It depends
On us being

One
By being friends

That when we forget
The egos exit

Lamentation for Man-unkind

A quiet desperation screams
A silent exhaustion moans

Man seeks to overcome
And so can't let go

He only knows to fear his inadequacy

Afraid of God
Afraid of living
Afraid of humanity

Especially his own

Afraid of Nature
Afraid of his body
Afraid of his senses

He has lost any he might have had

Afraid of the unknown
Afraid of the unseen
Afraid of his dreams

He is left only with ambitions

"Better to just deny them all"
He thinks

Science, religion, and violence
Aught to be enough to force them into submission

So he ends up in his head
Creates his own world to hide in

He whispers promises of safety secretly into his own ears
So as not to know that he himself is the whisperer

In the end it is ineffective
Once you die the jig is up

Personal Love

To express one's love of another
is difficult enough in any terms

Harder still, is to express love in a cascade of prose
beautiful enough to be called poetry

The Beloved is an elusive muse
That, like a cascade,
One can appreciate and bathe in freely
Even quench their greatest thirsts with

Yet can never possess it

Love is an endless flow
It just doesn't all fit into such small cups

The Sun

The Moon whispers to me in the night of my being
Pulling upon the tides within

In the dark they seem so reassuring
But in the light of early morning they are reduced to shadow puppets
By noon they have all but vanished

The Sun never whispers
It speaks clearly and I cannot help but listen
It warms me with Its embrace
Stirring a quiet ecstasy in my heart

Would that my voice could give wings to what I hear
I would share it withal
In a breath of poetry taken to flight in a song
But what is sung to me is too beautiful for my tongue to pronounce

I can only translate
And so much is lost in the translation
That I can only smile quietly to myself

Tags

Advaita, Being, Contemplation, Freedom, Kabir, Love, Meditation, Mysticism, Neruda, Non-Duality, Poetry, Prose, Quantum Poetry, Relaxation, Rumi, Self-Realization, Soul, Spirituality, Truth, Vasistadvaita, Yoga

Meet the author

author avatar C Christian Dahinden
C. Christian Dahinden, the Chadyoga Upanisad, is a feral monk, writer and mystic, as well as an artist and musician.

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Comments

author avatar Sivaramakrishnan A
3rd Mar 2013 (#)

Quite deep, varied and thought provoking. Life seems a dream for sure and we are sleep walking most times! Thanks for a unique share - siva

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author avatar C Christian Dahinden
3rd Mar 2013 (#)

Thanks for taking the time to leave a comment. The poems seem to become more expressive the better my personality gets at getting out of the way. As the main character in the Lila known as Chad, it is just so compellingly important sometimes. hahaha!

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author avatar Retired
7th Mar 2013 (#)

Dancing on the brimming void--wish I conjured that phrasing!

Love this, too:

And it is folly to believe

We plunder
Life's sweetest secret
With science and philosophy

The sun never whispers...indeed...the Leela-Maya disappears with sunlight of awareness...

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