Friday, 4 August 2017

The Unemployed Samurai

The Teacup & The Skullcup
Chögyam Trungpa
Shambhala Publications
2015

Review by Rory A.A. Hinton



















For Roshi Taigen Henderson

Faceless Roshi
Standing still
(as a pillar) again.
Zen dismantling
Sick vanity.

The practical joke:
Distracting zendo buddhas
On squeaking floorboards?
Cheshire cat smiling before
Sitting back in cool boredom.

Heads roll in dokusan.
Sliced off clean
By the bladeless sword
Of this employed samurai.
Body sitting headless.

Unemployed and overjoyed.
Gazing out of a window,
Obliviously attentive.
Hearing the birds
Chirping a requiem.

Fateful Rinpoche
Smiling still
(as a killer) mantra.
Tantra enchanting
Basic sanity.

Sources
Chögyam Trungpa. The Teacup And The Skullcup. Shambhala Publications. 2015
Philip Kapleau. The Three Pillars Of Zen. Anchor. 1989. 

Monday, 31 July 2017

逆噴射 Haiku July 2017

By Rory A.A. Hinton













July 2017

Saturday July 01, 2017
Cocaine colored
Computer cards.
Sleeved mutiny

Sunday July 02, 2017
Drive desire
Dying down. 
Keep quiet

Monday July 03, 2017
Black swan
Lake front.
Big buddha

Tuesday July 04, 2017
Three months
Later nudges.
Under orders

Wednesday July 05, 2017
Aging man
Diva young.
Photo bomb

Thursday July 06, 2017
Curious card
Carrying friend.
Distant remains

Friday July 07, 2017
Short work
Weak peek.
Peak week

Saturday July 08, 2017
Romantic monk
Falling leftover.
Ironic discipline

Sunday July 09, 2017
Mein path
Less frozen.
Warm heart

Monday July 10, 2017
King street
Queen Bee.
She’s crafty

Tuesday July 11, 2017
Look ring
Bling alert.
Stay away

Wednesday July 12, 2017
Left side
Leg pain. 
Sit back

Thursday July 13, 2017
Valiant effort
Less stress.
Tragic magic

Friday July 14, 2017
First week
Knee stretch.
Chair warrior

Saturday July 15, 2017
Lion roaring
Engine sings.
Formula won

Sunday July 16, 2017
Shape shifting
Space drifting.
Reflective gap

Monday July 17, 2017
Death comes
Fully aware. 
No prisoners

Tuesday July 18, 2017
Unshaved singer
Coughing chants.
No credentials

Wednesday July 19, 2017
Magical memory
Method madness.
Mendicant monster

Thursday July 20, 2017
Wits ending
Begin again.
Open gaps

Friday July 21, 2017
Tibetan power
Outage secret.
Sane view

Saturday July 22, 2017
Death retreat
Hermit wish.
Alley ally

Sunday July 23, 2017
Personal project
Residue returns.
Lonely journey

Monday July 24, 2017
Good writing
Difficult find. 
USB sticks

Tuesday July 25, 2017
Con fess
Up man. 
Get set

Wednesday July 26, 2017
Writer’s block
Chain gang.
Finance this

Thursday July 27, 2017
One drive
In time.
All there

Friday July 28, 2017
Cold sweat
Head ache.
Not well

Saturday July 29, 2017
Direct tantra
Haiku poetry.
Crazy trickery

Sunday July 30, 2017
Ordinary mein
Fields dreams.
Mind bombs

Monday July 31, 2017
Butchering IT
Company man.
Mature leader

Sources
Patrick Harbron. Mutiny Up My Sleeve. 1978.

Saturday, 29 July 2017

III

By Rory A.A. Hinton















Initiating
Intimate
Initiative

Thursday, 6 July 2017

The Old Man On The Hill

By Rory A.A. Hinton












My soul is tired from climbing
Up this sherpaless mountain.
There are no more caves
To stop in and sit down.
There are no more walls
To stare at and see through
Kwai Chang Caine's Kung Fu.

I’m at the point of exhaustion,
On the point of the mountain’s peak.
What’s the point of this exhaustive peek?
To watch a bird leave its nest,
From the top of this secular mountain,
And fly up high into the effortless sky.
Now what?

Friday, 30 June 2017

逆噴射 Haiku June 2017

By Rory A.A. Hinton












June 2017

Thursday June 01, 2017
Sick dog
Store he.
Cat tongue

Friday June 02, 2017
Fore me
Her mes.
Many any

Saturday June 03, 2017
Boing ping
Boom tschak.
Non stop

Sunday June 04, 2017
Know exit
Stage left.
Be right

Monday June 05, 2017
One more
Weak left.
Strong arm

Tuesday June 06, 2017
Con so
Late on.
Pry eyes

Wednesday June 07, 2017
Very big
But nice.
Ice ball

Thursday June 08, 2017
All reach
No touch.
My clutch

Friday June 09, 2017
Kind monster
Energy drunk.
Green goulash

Saturday June 10, 2017
Painful release
Cycle spinning.
Seizing gears.

Sunday June 11, 2017
Old rush
Fan men. 
Tea shirt

Monday June 12, 2017
Hang rope
Drop down.
God’s abyss

Tuesday June 13, 2017
He lived
Fully human.
All too

Wednesday June 14, 2017
Rest rest
REST full.
Cell sell

Thursday June 15, 2017
Vitals lost
Found again.
So grateful

Friday June 16, 2017
Inside her
House hold. 
Up above

Saturday June 17, 2017
Dogen dying
Daily duty.
Fifty three

Sunday June 18, 2017
Fluid flow
Out bound.
Light weight

Monday June 19, 2017
Old academic
Chair man. 
Empty study

Tuesday June 20, 2017
Earth wind
Fire eyes.
Tears roll

Wednesday June 21, 2017
Body falls
Off limits. 
Thin hin

Thursday June 22, 2017
Merton now
More then.
Ever land

Friday June 23, 2017
Clean up
New guy.
Irish eye

Saturday June 24, 2017
Street car
End line. 
Ghost rider

Sunday June 25, 2017
Old body
Bag bones.
Crack up

Monday June 26, 2017
Night pain
Relief pills.
Monster up

Tuesday June 27, 2017
No Sleep
Ace spades.
Only hearts

Wednesday June 28, 2017
Slow separation
Agreement down.
Independence day

Thursday June 29, 2017
Turn back
Switch clear.
Mein dear

Friday June 30, 2017
The dead
No longer.
Get lonely

Sunday, 18 June 2017

“...in color more Tibetan than Zen…”

By Rory A.A. Hinton













Howling poet released
By love's solitary demand.
It's the end of the beginning
For the unemployed samurai,
Who got fired and retired
His dissatisfied pen.

Headless body 
Written away.
Behind the echo
Of God's laughter,
Moon and Zen
Together again. 

The great matter
Does not matter.
Never mind it
By showing me,
Through the way
You sit and talk:

     Why did Merton die
     In Bangkok?

Sources
Christopher Meatyard. Photographing Thomas Merton. 2014

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

All Reach And No Touch

By Rory A.A. Hinton












Choosing to negate
Her specious look
At that early date.
Already forty eight.

Refusing to relate
His precious book.
At that, she flees.
Almost forty three.

A long shot?
Time won't make
This trade short.
Wise men abort.

Trusting my sense of smell.
Suffering through all's well.
Saddling the beast I'm on:
“Yes, Ms. Francon.”

We inhabited that steed.
Stride for beautiful stride.
The veritas of our breed?
The joy is in the ride.

Silence so subversive.
So much minimal style.
I still remain breathless.
Sprinting this quarter-mile.

Cash is riding on this stallion.
Grand esprit under the rising sun.
Chasing this distant horizon.
Set it free and let it run ...