Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon

For the sake of ornament and illumination.

POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 7:34 pm

Conan Doyle Said to Rudyard Kipling, by Charles Carreon

'Twould seem overly reductive,
Not terribly instructive
To take the colors from the sky
When anyway they all will fly,
To kill us every single day
When we must all die anyway.

'Twould be rather fuddy-duddyish
And lack imagination
To smother children's happy thoughts
With a dark zen-colored cushion,
To break their toys for their own good
And tell them there's no supper
For fear they might enjoy themselves
And love what should be hated.

'Twould seem the criticism
that the world's but a machine
Has itself been found defective
And even a bit obscene

For those who know
and do not know
Are seldom told apart
Except the truth is always known
In fools and madmen's hearts.
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

SONG

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 7:38 pm

Condoleezza, by Charles Carreon



Image

Lately I've been thinking how much I miss my lady
Condoleezza's in the West Wing brightening the daybreak
Living with a lust for power, running through the grass for hours
Rolling in your Hum-vee like an army-child

And when it rains oil dollars down
Washington's a cattle town
And she's far away somewhere with Colin Powell out-of-town
And she screens my corporate schemes
Protects me from those wild dreams when we swelled
Like Corporations fit to burst upon each other

I can see you by the window, planning first strikes in the evening
The fruit juice flowing slowly, slowly, slowly
Down the bronze of your bombshells
Stokin ' up my lust for power, bombing old Baghdad, oh for hours,
Flyin' your Apache like an army-child

Oh if only we could nestle in that hangout back in Saudi
My arms around your shoulders, the Bin Ladens laughin' and jokin'
While the smart bombs and the children are playing in the valley
Oh I miss you Condoleezza like a banker miss his money

Lately I've been thinking how much I miss my lady
Condoleezza's sowing minefields and clearin' out the terror
Living like a lusty flower, bombin' ole Saddam, oh for hours,
Rolling through old Baghdad like an army-child
Rolling in my Hum-vee with my puppy-child.
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 7:41 pm

Cool World, by Charles Carreon

There's a cool world out there
AND I WANNA SEE IT,
There's this cool world out there
AND I WANNA SEE IT,
Yea, there's this cool world out there
AND I WANNA SEE IT,
WANNA SEE IT
WANNA SEE IT

Well I'll tell you one thing
I DON'T NEED YOU HANGIN' ALL AROUND ME,
Yeah I'll tell you this
I DON'T WANT YOU TRYING TO SURROUND ME,
And one more thing
I DON'T CARE WHERE YOU GO,
ALL I WANT'S JUST LEAVE ME ALONE

Well my mama raised me
TO BE A GOOD BOY,
But she didn't teach me
TO BE SOME FOOL'S TOY,
So pretty ladies: DON'T BOTHER ME
Police with shotguns: WHADDA YA SEE ?
Politicians: TAKE A HIKE
Mass production? NOT ON YOUR LIFE

(Cause there's) a cool world out there
AND I WANNA SEE IT,
There's this cool world out there
AND I WANNA SEE IT,
Yeah there's this cool world out there
AND I WANNA SEE IT,
WANNA SEE IT
WANNA SEE IT
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 7:43 pm

Cosmic Enron Bookkeeping, by Charles Carreon

Well it's May,
and the nuts are gathering.
It's May, and they may be dithering,
But Hey! If you don't mind maundering
They make great company
And, Say! What about that Buddha-guy
He's so amazingly inspiring
I want to install
new wiring
In my old brain.
Yes new,
brand new wiring
To carry all the high grade voltage
That I will soon be carrying
Thanks to my new power trading
Deal with the great big grid in the sky,
The one that won't pass me by.
I'll mint money
It's not funny
Because soon I'll be feeling so high
I'll never ever die.
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 7:43 pm

Crash Landing, by Charles Carreon

Broken hearts are cheap --
Mine cheapest of all.
You don't really know
what you did.
You say you saw danger
You bailed out & left me
flying alone.
Crash landing at sea . . .
As usual,
The dolphins took care of me.
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

SONG

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 7:45 pm

Dazbidanya Amerikanski, by Charles Carreon

Image

Dazbidanya, Amerikanski
Adios, Americano
Au revoir, Americain
Sayonara, GI Joe

Our influence is waning
All around the globe.
We're lead by blood-drenched killers
In sanctimonious robes,
Claiming freedom from all laws
Of decency and justice
Like homicidal maniacs
With doomsday as their plan.

So Dazbidanya, Amerikanski
Adios, Americano
Au revoir, Americain
Sayonara, GI Joe

The dollar is a millstone
About the world's neck
And the atoms we've been splitting
Have got loose from their nets.
We sell administration
Of the wealth our fathers stole,
And we'd melt down our grandma
To increase our stock of gold.

So Dazbidanya, Amerikanski
Adios, Americano
Au revoir, Americain
Sayonara, GI Joe

Each one of us consumes ten times
Our share of the world's wealth
And now we have designs in play
To get the rest by stealth.
You can claim you're not part of it,
That you are not to blame,
But while you keep your silence
Soldiers murder in our names.

So
Dazbidanya, Amerikanski
Sayonara, GI Joe,
You're no longer the world's policeman,
Take your guns, and go on home.

Why do they hate us?
They like to ask.
Why did they hate the Ku Klux Klan?
Why did they hate the fascist soldiers
Who drove the murder vans?
Why did they hate cold hearted bastards
Who murdered children with their own hands?

So
Dazbidanya, Amerikanski
Sayonara, GI Joe,
You're no longer the world's whoremaster,
Take your guns, and go on home.
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

POETRY

Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:26 am

December 26, 2005, by Charles Carreon

Woke around 6 am
Sat in the living room on the floor, looking
out onto the porch and toward the East
As I sat I realized that
I was free to do nothing
I was free to not respond to my thoughts
impulses, inclinations, emotions
Free to just sit and be
Giving myself permission

Valuing the doing of nothing
Finding freedom from doing
Comes from relying on
The sufficiency of Being

Gaining familiarity with plain existence
Attention aware of itself
Settles the field of perception
With clarity the result

Craving the satisfaction of stillness
Clear water of mind
There is only the path ---
Let the muddy pond settle.
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

POETRY

Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:28 am

Declaration, by Charles Carreon

So what does it mean to be a free person?
To look through your thoughts, and see fewer limitations,
Not to feel constrained by anything,
Absolutely free to do absolutely nothing.
Not needed, not wanted, not sought.
I've become hermetic by a process of inversion.
All resources come from within, so gradually one wants no input.
None.
Dealing with things is hard, because there isn't enough will.
The lack of will is a drag.
It's like a trend to non-existence.
Yet that's not at all what I seek.
I wish to be unknown and unsought, to be absolutely free.
Then of course I will come face to face with the limitations of my own mind.
Which is what I am eager to do.
The limitations of the mind are intriguing.
The problem of time and awareness and their interdependence is wonderful to contemplate.
The mysteries of vibration and attention are innumerable.
The face of mother earth is inscribed with life-affirming meaning, if you choose to fix your eyes upon the mountains.
Read there and you will need no Saviour's testimony to believe that we are part of something immense, living, eternal.
These truths I hold to be self-evident.

Baksheesh the Madman
January 8, 2005
Ashland, OR
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

POETRY

Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:29 am

Dedicated to Dominique Sanda, 1986, by Charles Carreon

In a world without chains,
I was bound by the rusty
syllables
Of my own heart,
reciting its fears.
 
I saw the dedicated men,
At last, assassinate the old
tyrant
As he walked with his aging
yes men
In the scenic hills.
 I told them "God bless you,"
And tears filled my eyes.
 
You ran, again, down
the hill from me.
You are always running
in that brown coat,
gold curls tossing,
leaves crunching underfoot
until the last encounter.

March 23, 1986
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

POETRY

Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:30 am

Deity Clutter, by Charles Carreon

Buddhist literature
around my house.
Deity clutter, torma-tracks,
Tattered thangkas
and musty stacks
of sadhanas unpracticed,
prayers unprayed.
There's no shortage of
devotional vehicles,
but practitioners are rare as leaves in winter.

Let's make it easy on ourselves ...
let's not do anything we don't want to do
with a whole mind,
and then we won't have to do
anything at all!
admin
Site Admin
 
Posts: 17101
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am

PreviousNext

Return to Belles Lettres

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest