One More Factory Poem

[zil]

What would Buddha do?
I mean if
he worked here
in this factory

Would he quietly read Marx?
in his hands
calloused palms
instead of lotus pedals

Would he still spout
sutras of compassion
or maybe spit
words of fire

Would he ask my boss
the nature of
his face before
his ancestors were born

Would Nirvana be
a six pack
and a carton
of Camel cigarettes

Because my Buddha nature
is strangled by
a blue collar
and my own apathy

My wisdom? Crazy
Trungpa heart
I see Buddha in
empty shot glasses

I still tug
at proletariat chains
tho I know
nothing is real

Getting my kicks
with secret notebooks
stolen moments
amid screaming machines

[Lightning Rod]

welcome aboard, zil

I'll look forward to reading more of your work

[mousey1]

Excellent!!!!!!!

I know nothin' of Buddha....well, 'cept maybe the obvious stuff, but I get ya.

Mmmm hmmmm well, well, put.

I feel much of this. All great, but I love those last 4 lines. Nice.

You got the stuff, at least judgin' from this zample. I, too, look forward to reading more. No pressure now.....no pressure.

And Hi.

[Axanderdeath]

I don't know all that much about budha or marx but I like the poem.

Give us some more. People like this kind of writing around here.

[hester_prynne]

Breezy depth.
oh the magic in that.......

really lapped this one up.....!

H

[e_dog]

really dig it.

but the answer is, No.

the Buddha would meditate on his lunchbreak, maybe breath freshair on a cigarette break he's not entitled to, and would grind the wheel of the machine, working overtime, because the Buddha's wages have been garnished in an action from his abandoned wife who seeks child support.

[stilltrucking]

What would Buddha do?
I mean if
he worked here
in this factory

in this noise

stolen moments
amid screaming machines

What would Buddha do?
I mean if
he worked here
in this factory

I still tug
at proletariat chains
tho I know
nothing is real

if only I had know something of the Buddha when I was twenty four and working in that factory. Graveyard shit out in the gray morning light, feeling like a zombie from the noise and monotomy of assembly line labor. If only I had noticed the sunrise.

But when I was twenty four Eugene V Debs was still my hero, and I did not wish to rise from the masses. ..

I hope I did not trivialize your execellent poem, which I think is exactly what the Buddha would have done with the screaming machines. I became addicted to that scream, my heart beat to it.
I am pretty interested in Zen which I know less about than I do the Buddha, which is practicaly nothing. But I get an inkling from friends, helps me when I am tossed about in the storms of my melodrama.

Welcome aboard don't mind me I tend to ramble

[zil]

First off, I want to thank all of you for the comments. I'm really excited to have stumbled onto this place, you wouldn't think it would be hard to find a place you feel at home at on the world wide web, but it is.

stilltrucking, you did not trivialize a thing, obviously I was in a funk when I scrawled that one into my notebook from my same familiar spot in that breakroom, but I too am addicted to that scream, the humping of machines, the ringing in my ears, the tired and apathetic conversations of my co-workers on a Monday afternoon....it's become my awareness.... but being over Debs, being over Marx, I think of Kannon -hearer of the cries of the world, and think if I can find Buddha in empty shot glasses, I can find him when I swipe the time clock.

Anyway, glad to be aboard.

[Doreen Peri]

I like this piece a lot!

Took a look at your website, too! Nice!

Welcome, zil!

You've got some killer lines in this one!

looking forward to reading more.