• Re: POEMS OF THE BUDDHAS OF OLD- Jack Kerouac

    From Will-Dockery@3:633/10 to All on Thu Oct 30 16:18:42 2025
    Anonymous wrote:
    POEMS OF THE BUDDHAS OF OLD
    I
    The boys were sittin
    In a grove of trees
    Listenin to buddy
    Explainin the keys.

    "Boys, I say the keys
    Cause there's lots a keys
    But only one door
    One hive for the bees.

    So listen to me
    And I'll try to tell all
    As I heard it long ago
    In the Pure Land Hall.

    Life is like a dream.
    You only think's it's real
    Cause your born a sucker
    For that kind of deal;

    But if the truth were known
    You ain't here nohow
    And neither am I
    Nor that cow and sow

    You see across the field
    One standing silently
    The other rutting ragefully
    In essence so quietly

    For you good boys
    With winesoaked teeth
    That can't understand
    These words on a heath

    I'll make it simpler
    Like a bottle of wine
    And a good woodfire
    Under the stars divine.

    Now listen to me
    And when you have learned
    The Dharma of the Buddhas
    Of old and yearned

    To sit down with the truth
    Under a lonesome tree
    In Yuma Arizony
    Or anywhere you might be

    Don't thank me for telling
    What was told me
    This is the wheel I'm turning,
    This is the reason I be.

    Mind is the maker
    for no reason at all
    Of all this creation
    Created to fall.
    II
    "Who played this cruel joke
    On bloke after bloke
    Packing like a rat
    Across the desert flat?"

    Asked Montana Slim
    gesturing to him
    The buddy of the men
    In this lion's den.

    "Was it God got mad
    Like the Indian cad
    Who was only a giver
    Crooked like a river?

    Gave you a garden
    Let the fruit harden,
    Then comes the flood
    And the loss of your blood?

    Pray tell us good buddy
    And don't make it muddy
    Who played this trick
    On Harry and Dick

    And why is so mean
    The eternal scene,
    Just what's the point
    Of this whole joint?"
    III
    Replied the good buddy:
    "So now the bird is asleep
    And the airplane gone
    Let's all listen deep

    Everybody silent
    Includin me
    To catch the roar
    Of eternity

    That's ringin in our ears
    Never-endingly.
    You hear it Tom, Dick
    And Harry Lee?

    You hear it Slim

    From Old Montan'?


    You hear it Big Daddy
    And Raggedy Dan?

    You know What I mean
    When I say eternity?
    You heard it in your crib ?
    Shhh Infinity."
    IV
    Up spoke Big Daddy

    From Baltimore


    An enormous neg*o
    Forevermore:

    "You mean that shushin
    And that fussin
    A-slushin in your ears
    For all those years?

    When I was so high
    Jess a little guy
    I thought it was me
    In the whisperin sea

    Asked my Mam
    About that jam,
    She didn't say nuthin,
    She sowed the button

    It was quiet and late
    At the afternoon grate.
    Her face showed no sign
    Of that whisperin line

    But as we sat waitin
    Instead of abatin
    The noise got to roar
    Like an openin door

    That opened my haid
    Like if it was daid
    And the only thing alive
    Was that boomin jive

    And we looked at each other
    Child and mother
    Like wakin form a dream
    In a spirit stream."
    V
    "Well spoken, Big Daddy!"
    Cried the buddy real glad.
    "This proves that you know
    And you'll never be sad.

    For that was the sound
    That we all hear now
    And I want you to know
    It's no sound nohow

    But the absence of sound
    Clear and pure,
    The silence now heard
    In heaven for sure.

    What's heaven?
    By Nirvana mean I?
    This selfsame no-sound
    Silence sigh

    Eternal and empty
    Of sounds and things
    And all thievin rivers
    Complainin brings

    For if we can sit here
    In this riverbottom sand
    And come to see
    and understand

    That we got in us
    Ability to hear
    Holy Emptiness
    Beyond the ear

    And block our ears
    And hear inside
    And know t'aint here
    Nor there, the tide,

    But everywhere, inside,
    Outside, all throughout
    Mind's dream, Slim?
    What you gripin about?

    Imaginary rivers
    And gardens too,
    A movie in the mind
    Of me and you.

    The point
    of this whole joint
    Is stop, sit
    And thee anoint

    With teachings such
    As these, and more,
    To find the key
    Out of this dark corridor.

    The effulgent door,
    The mysterious knob,
    The bright room gained
    Is the only job."
    The boys was pleased
    And rested up for more
    And Jack cooked mush
    In honor of the Door

    -Jack Kerouac



    Huge selection of Jack Kerouac poetry.

    ?


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