There is a tyranny to this world that seeks to muzzle you.

It is a cult of uniformity

and it grows more uncomfortable by the day

with the thought of you loving yourself.

 

Throw off the invisible restraints!

Go dance in a meadow at dawn!

Make time every day to listen to the Dharma found in Bird-Speech-Wisdom!

Embody the old animal forms of tiger, dragon, and crane

that Bodhidharma taught the bandit-weary monks of Shaolin.

You, too, could fly like a graceful egret o'er the enemy

and plant a well-placed kick in the name of all our freedom!

 

Who knows where all this Puritanical rigidity started...

but down here in the Southern flatlands

I get the image of a stuffy old white man

who's uncomfortable with black women

and men who wear flowers

and poets in indigo shibori headwraps.

 

If you choose to hold your tongue

or to fall-in-step with the 'Not-See' Party

no one can really blame you.

Everyone is living behind enemy lines these days.

But, remember what Whitman said...as in 'Walt'.

"Cheer up slaves, and horrify foreign despots..."

 

I would add --

domestic despots, too,

even if they're in your own bed,

under your roof,

or sitting in The White House.

 

The rucksack revolution of crazy clouds and Zen lunatics is still going on!

The real ones don't build temples that the "Evangies" can burn down.

We're a slow-growing virus that have seeped into every corner of this land.

We're like those old shinobi ninjas

that dwell in the dark

plotting against the enemy

trading secrets

 

only...

we plot against the infected Western mind

and our secret twilight currency

is laughter

and

poetry.


(c) 2018 / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) / purelandpoetry.com

sound: Kushimoto-Bushi / Koichi Sugii

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