“Beware the Hands of The Wizard”: In Response to: Buji-nin – Photo Seeking Caption

Hands hold the vessel ancient, black

Set upon with dragons, bowl to stack.

Its wizard pours out wishes, non shall lack.

Beware his brew, you’ll not come back.

Buji-nin: Photo Seeking Title

Here we go…..”Buji-nin” the man himself has begun a game with us. 

He seeks a title for the submitted photo in his unfailing love of playing the challenge, his haughty wit and rooting out the depth of the minds of others.  

Yesterday in my post I mentioned that I wish you could know this guy. The evidence points to the fact that he is in favor of it.

I am taking the challenge. What is the depth of your mind on this one?

                                                                               **********

-“open your door to new ideas, let them flow in, open the back door, let them flow out, do not serve them tea???” – (his words on the photo)

 

 

Proof of Life: Buji-nin

 

A young man, tall and strong-jawed born of a line of military genius, sarcastic and exuberantly witty, played in the Age of Aquarius. He haltingly tested his professors with his grasping mind and profane insubordination. As was meet and right in the eyes of all he questioned and disrespected he found himself in the uniform of a soldier.

He no longer played at board games with tiny men as his intellect now turned to the horrors of an unjust war. Profanity became his definition of life, death and insubordination a daily examination in existence. Humility swallowed up all traces of surface haughtiness with the degrading, unceasing cries and pain of children, mothers and comrades.

The strong-jawed man returned home diseased, wounded, angry, confused and carrying his own scars. In his consuming genius he grew to love, respect and master his enemy’s languages, customs, religions and gods. Buji-nin is a tag name he has gave himself, (-DT Suzuki would sometimes sign himself meaning “no special person”).

He is, after all a child of Aquarius-questioning, rebellious, prone to wander as were we all. No generation is like another. He is one shining star, proven hero and prophet of ours.

Still as fiercely humble, haughty and questioning, the strong-jawed, witty Buji-nin enriches my soul with his tales of a life lived fully, on the edge, out of the box sharing constant challenges of genius and profane sensibility. I wish you could know him.

A wounded warrior of the ages I am proud and honored to call friend-Buji-nin.

Silent

4/3/2017 “Silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.” – Friedrich Nietzsche Photographer Unknown

via Silent — Eyes + Words

Canticle II

My soul thirsts for the living God. The deer seeks out water brooks.

My most inner self longs for you, thirsts for the living God.

His mountains of stone like Him stand. His rapids and floods cover me.

My poured out soul cannot contain such high thought as these.

Deep calls to deep in holy noise. I fall to my face in worship.

a psalm of David…transposed…

Canticle

My pen is bent to glory. I address my verses to the King.

He anointed me with grace. My pen bends to a noble theme.

Your dwelling places are lovely. Your throne is beyond our comprehension.

Truly it is God who saves me. He is my rock and my salvation.

a psalm of David…transposed…

 

Severed Hope

 

 

Compliantly, urgently listening

with blind hope, ears wide open

as the sheep for the shepherd.  

 

Waiting, searching, seaking

without forethought or line

as a prophet for the Spirit.

 

Wandering, thirsting, hungering

finding dry bones and spoilt manna

such the Gomorrhan I must be.

 

Gazing, seeing, hearing

enlightenment explodes into being

drools from darkness and shadow.

 

Hark the composition of my Muse!

 

No shepherd but serpent.

If spirit, evil.

Carefully tendering my terrible pen.

keeping time

“Keeping Time”….
What a wonderful poem, thought, post, story, fable…
I wish I had written this!
Thanks! I got the gentle, loud lesson.

resarf poetry

~

keeping time ( a precautionary tale )

i like to keep a spare afternoonin my pocketnext to them keyswhich i always need& a pleasant eveningaround my neckkept in a locket( only to be openedduring emergencies )...

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NOT FINE

Heart screams come in waves

Changing voices UN-explaining

Waiting in loud desperation

Musings on Artistic Fantasy

“Sunday morning coming down…”. We remember or have heard the line from that country song. I seem to hear it in the deep soulful voice of Johnnie Cash. I had my share of those dark empty awakenings. Enough to be thrilled and blessed with joy this Sunday to awaken to a world of freedom from self. In this world I have boundaries to express my greatest fantasies in writing and art.

Now to be sure, art is in the eye of the beholder and is intrinsically relative, but mine is definitely primitive, unpredictable. Art to me is fun and fantasy. A fellow blogger asked me recently what my favorite art “subject” is. Wow! I could not answer her. I suppose the closest I can come is “Fantasy”. Here I reluctantly and with fear and trembling, post a few of my pieces. “Sunday morning coming out…”. Feedback from any and all will be graciously accepted!    

 Cheers and Happy Sunday!  

Myra