Zen Master Teaching #65

Zen Master Teaching #65: Always wash hands thoroughly. Memory can fail one at certain times. One does not wish Icy Hot from finger to end up on tongue.

We Are Next.

Guys, I am not jumping on my soapbox. In fact, I am calm as a rock in a snowstorm here. I know what the stakes are and I know where the hearts of the citizens of America lie. The truth is people are unhappy and we are going to see it soon. I am not unduly worried. However, we are not yet headed down that road. Right now is the dangerous time. We, ladies and gentleman, are headed to be socialistic. Whether you think that is a good thing or not is irrelevant. Socialism does not work, never has and never will. We are corrupt, greedy beings who look out for themselves. The systems we have barely work... but they do work. There are perfect systems out there. Whether they have been implemented or not... well, time will tell. However, our country is not headed down the straight and narrow. Our principles have been jeopardized. Don't believe me? Just read all the presses. Look at who writes each article. Trace who they work for. All sides have some corruption, but I guarantee you, some have it as their main goal. Some people want us all under a system of control. Crazy? Fantastic? Ridiculous? ... How quickly we forget the Cold War.

Either way (whether we do fall into the pits of corruption and foolish ideas that we are headed towards or not) I know I will be safe. Survival is first, and I will forever be two steps ahead of those who are out to put me down. However, my job for now is to inform all of you what is out there. Read the article below and tell me we are not headed here next. Bet you twenty bucks (what's the dollar worth now? Maybe I should bet euro...) this kind of stuff is already happening. Don't take that bet.... the dice are loaded in my favor.


RUSSIA TO PROSECUTE YOUTUBE POLICE WHISTLEBLOWER

MOSCOW (Reuters) – A former policeman who accused senior officers of corruption in a series of video blogs will himself face prosecution for abuse of office, Russian investigators said on Monday.
Former police major Alexei Dymovsky became a household name in Russia earlier this year when he used YouTube to appeal to Prime Minister Vladimir Putin to tackle corruption in the police force.
A criminal case would be brought against Dymovsky for "fraud committed by a person using his official position," according to a statement from Prosecutor-General's investigative committee. It gave no further details.
Dymovsky, who worked for the police force in the Black Sea port of Novorossiisk, appealed to Putin to rein in senior officers whom he accused of pressuring subordinates to charge innocent people to meet statistical targets.
"I want to show you from the inside the life of cops across Russia ... the ignorance, the boorishness, the recklessness, where officers die because of their dim-witted bosses," Dymovsky said in the video.
The clip received more than one million hits on YouTube.
He was fired after making the appeal. Regional police also conducted their own investigation after the videos were released, which they said did not back up Dymovsky's allegations.
Corruption is endemic in Russian society and global surveys have repeatedly ranked the former Soviet state as one of the most corrupt in the world.

Zen Master Teaching #64

Zen Master Teaching #64: Unwise is he who drinks sugared beverage before sleep. If one wishes for rest, one cannot be energetic. More wise to consume soothing concoctions, or else will one bounce off walls like proverbial rubber ball.

Night

Cold, broken, lonely, here I lie
on the small bed of my mistakes.
Fierce, howling wind blows through my veins,
Sharpening my cruel pains and aches.
I see here no light reflected.
My small darken’d room does not care
What long scars I have afflicted
With sick, poisonous summer air.
Wounds will go deep, and deeper still,
Angry shadows of an age past.
They have the tools to break my will
And shatter all my resolve last.
But quickly, deep breaths do I take
To calm me from my blackest fears
Few struggles of man ever make
A protest which falls on deaf ears.
These memories will pass and fade,
In time, I will refuse to weep.
I look at things I have now made
And retire to a fitful sleep.

Maybe? I don't know... This poetry thing is all well and good, but it seems as though it is never quite written as I want it...

Inevitabilty

Fresh young tree in spring time heat,

Feel the weed take water sweet.

Lone deer running in the cold, 

Fear the hunter cruel and bold.

Rabbit who is wise and calm, 

See the wolf who runs so long.

Butterfly on high tree branch,

Hear the mantis comes to dance.

Human, high upon the crown,

Know you will burn to the ground.

Untitled

I have no title for this... it is the first in Iambic pentameter...

Soft December flakes fall upon the ground.

Sunlight peers down through imposing storm clouds.

The boy walks alone without a word or sound.

His footfalls echo only in his mind.

Memories distant flow before his eyes.

To his core, tendrils of fear seep like ice.

He sees bright futures as though they have past.

Mind, body and soul know what he now has.

A soul entombed, as though in hard bronze cast.

He struggles to shatter his prison cold.

Resolve gathers strength, he tries to be bold.

The world will fade, but his love grows not old.

Early Stabs.

Here are a couple early stabs at poetry...

Lament

The sailor stands upon the cliff,

Glowering to sea below.

He remembers a young sweet girl,

Eyes like gems and mountains of curls.

A summer spent in blissful union

No cares, no worries, only hearts desires.

A grim slash for a smile is all he musters;

Now that time is dead and gone.

The hounds behind him yelp and howl,

Gunshots pierce the moonlit night.

With a sigh he turns away, 

To face the glory of battle’s death

Just then a whisper floats on the breeze;

His eyes glimmer with furious hope.

He spins around and leaps from the rock

Into the dark, cruel waves below.

A Setting Sunrise

On his dying bed, he watched the sun

Take the place of that awful moon.

His tired eyes saw only rays of gold and blue.

The warmth spread through his very limbs

More intoxicating than any gin.

He allowed one last eye to be cast upon the room.

Filthy boards, sweaty rags, and cheap cologne filled the air.

He struggled to his feet, wavering as the years anchored him

At last, he stepped out the door, feet falling on soft grass

And with no regrets and little joy,

He became a part of the morning dew.