Read The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Seven Online

Authors: Chögyam Trungpa

Tags: #Tibetan Buddhism

The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Seven (60 page)

When you have swallowed a cold icicle,

When you feel love hurts,

What do you say to it?

This kind of hurt, is it pleasurable?

Pain pleasure

Pleasure pain

Cold hurt

Hurt cold

Hurt hot

Hot hurt—

Wish I had never experienced blue sky or green grass,

Beautiful lover (would-be).

Would such hurt, gut hurt, throat hurt, brain hurt, lung hurt, such hurt hurt,

Bring about cosmic love affair one of these days?

Maybe the bleeding part should be served as dessert,

With occasional bubble, occasional odor

And occasional music played with it.

Such hurt love is so love love hurt.

Maybe frogs have never experienced this;

The Pekingese, the poodles are lucky

That nobody killed themselves being lovesick.

You hurt

You tingle me

You tingle hurt

Hurt tingle

Tingle hurty

Hurt tingly

Pain

Lust

Love

Passion

Red

Ruby

Blood

Ruby lust

Lust cold

Cold ruby

Frozen rose

Rose frozen

Lust passion

Cold hate

Hate ruby

Passion lust cold hate ruby

Hot ruby lust

Flute hot

Lust flute

Cold icicle

Hot ruby lust passion cold flute

Pure

Pure ruby

Pure hot cold ruby

Lust passion pure cold ruby

Cheat

Hot cheat

Cheat convert

Hot passion cheat

Cheat blood

Cheating blood

Passion ruby flute

Cold hot flute

Play

Hot play

Cheat play

Cheat play hot passion ruby

Drum

Thunder

Thunder drum

Drum thunder

Hot drum hot cheat

Hot cheat ruby drum

Drum drum drum

Cheat drum ruby

Cheat hot passion

Ruby hot piss

Flute

The flute

Throbbing flute

Throbbing heart

Cheat throbbing heart

Hot cheat throbbing passion flute

Throbbing sex

Passion ruby

Deaf

Mute

Mute passion

Deaf passion

Throbbing deaf mute passion in cold ruby liquid.

August 3, 1976

Shambhala Anthem

 

In the mirror created by no one

The primal white child is born,

Blowing the flute of peace and joy.

East, south, west, north, from all directions,

Storm clouds swollen with hail gather.

The thunder of no-fear resounds.

Then the warriors’ red garuda arises.

The she-warriors’ turquoise dragon arises.

The king’s lightning-yellow tiger arises.

The queen’s silver snow lion arises.

Tiger lion garuda dragon strike everywhere.

The profound and just king comes into being.

Majestic and lovely, the kingdom occurs.

Brave and stable, the general occurs.

Learned and loving, the ministers occur.

Victory, victory, all-victorious!

 

Arise, Lord Gesar, arouse yourself!

Appear from the unconstricted sky!

Rejuvenate the dignity of the Mukpo clan!

Victory, victory, all-victorious!

 

Rigden kings, arise from space!

Arouse yourselves, stand forward now

From the Kingdom of Shambhala!

Obliterate the barbarian materialists!

Victory, victory, all-victorious!

 

Expanding insightful confidence,

Sharpening the spearhead of intellect,

The troops of passionlessness permeate everywhere.

Since at the beginning no fear arose,

Fly the great flag of eternal no-fear!

Defeat the conspiracies of the heretics!

Victory, victory, all-victorious!

 

Empire extends to the limits of the sky.

Glory and wealth compete with the sun and moon.

Fame is proclaimed throughout space, like thunder—

Undefeatable the holy kingdom.

May the glory of the profound brilliant king be proclaimed!

May the peace and happiness of the citizens expand!

May the orchestra of virtue resound!

August 26, 1976
Rocky Mountain Dharma Center, Colo.

Pan-American Dharmadhatu III

 

Thick oak tree trunk

Is hard to break with two hands.

Thick oak ego

Skandha tree trunk

Is easier to break by the two hands of the vajra master.

Farmingdale

Thistledale

Heatherdale

Lovely sites beautiful to look at:

That is dharmadhatu.

Some dharmadhatus are tall and skinny,

Colored with luscious leaves;

Some dharmadhatus are fat and stocky,

Weighted with delicious fruit;

Some dharmadhatus are thorny and tough,

Dotted with bright berries;

Some dharmadhatus are bending,

Swayed by wind;

Some dharmadhatus are upright,

Growing in the midst of a giant forest.

Oh such dharmadhatu jungle—

It is beautiful.

Wandering in the dharmadhatu forest

You meet meek chipmunks

Humorous porcupines

Delicate magpies

Sneaky squirrels

Powerful tigers

Exotic jackals

Manipulative ants

Doing their own little duties right and left.

It is quite an experience to be in the midst of dharmadhatu jungle.

Glory be to the Forestry Department of Vajradhatu,

That such jungle has been taken care of and appreciated.

However, dry twigs and wounded branches need to be pruned,

So that we could nurse the cosmic universal pan-American dharmadhatu jungle.

It is nice to be a jungle man,

Tree warrior.

I send my love to the invincible perpetuating jungle of dharmadhatus.

October 4, 1976
Land O’ Lakes, Wis.

So Bright and So Vulnerable

 

So bright and so vulnerable

     so sad

          so wretched

I am

     I was

         I will be

This!

   I

         with big stroke

I am

     the lord

             of the universe

For that

     I am

        so old.

October 25, 1976
Land O’ Lakes, Wis.

Written on the day that Chögyam Trungpa received the Stroke of Ashe, a symbol of warriorship.

Glory Be to the Kasung

 

Glory be to the Kasung, he who holds the sacred command.

Glory be to him and his troops.

Glory be to his troops of dapöns and rupöns and all the vajra guards, the dorje kusungs.

In the realm of three mountains and one earth,

The tiger lion garuda dragon world,

Be victorious, O guardians of the Ka, the command.

May the King of Shambhala be victorious!

 

He who couldn’t care gains victory.

He who couldn’t care gains beyond bondage.

He who is beyond doubt and fear is truly profound and brilliant.

He who no longer needs reference point is just and powerful.

He who is unconcerned about gain and loss is truly all-victorious.

Profound brilliant just powerful victorious—

Be to you as the Vajra Kasung.

November 8, 1976
King’s Gate
Land O’Lakes, Wis.

At the time this poem was composed, “Kasung” was the title of the Kasung Kyi Khyap, and “dorje kusung” referred to all members of what is now known as the Dorje Kasung.

Tibetan Lyrics

 

Like a hunting dog, my friend,

You are always hungry, hoping for me.

The weather is good today:

Vanish to the distant jungle.

 

Yesterday I did not offer you tea,

Today I ask you not to be angry;

Tomorrow, if the weather is good,

Together we will go to battle.

 

This black stallion of mine:

If you ride it to the plain, it is like the shadow of a bird;

If you ride it to the mountain, it is like a flame;

If you ride it to the water, it is like a fish;

If you ride it to the sky, it is like a white cloud.

When ornamented with a saddle, it is like a king setting out to battle.

This is an excellent great horse—

Out of delight and respect, I offer it to you.

1976

Asleep and Awake

 

While the grass was falling asleep

Waiting for the snowflakes,

Timid world has been reshaped into warrior world:

My accomplishment is achieved.

Abundance of sympathy, devotion, kindness, politeness—

All amount to asleep and awake.

When dying culture is reintroduced,

It becomes genuinely powerful.

February 11, 1977

Conspicuous Gallantry

 

Like gold dust sprinkled on white paper,

You see man’s nectar sprinkled on the Great Eastern Sun paper.

Sometimes people have twitches that pull the corner of their mouth or a part of their nostril—

These are the signs of confusion.

The genuine piece of gold is saying nothing.

The genuine piece of Rigden’s truth is being eloquent.

Swimming in the tiger lion garuda dragon ocean is magnificently messy,

Because you are trying to mingle orange white blue red colors into one spectrum.

But out of that, giant monster known as benevolent dictator

Spotted with six white dots.

The universe is for all:

Capitalism, democracy, giant red ant,

Neurotic Irish setter, well-fed English mastiff,

Kind frog, deliberate spider, meaningful wasp,

Tickling girlfriend, dashing ministers, juniper-like cooks.

Do you see, Goofy?

Fast and slow, nooky dooky, old tree, old fruit

Run wild in the midst of puffy duffy outrageousness—

All amount to the razor blade, the black dot frog spawn razor blade,

The self-suicidal self-sharpening self-tantalizing great blade

Which dulls nothing but itself, but sharpens nevertheless.

Good Ashe, finest point of the finest of all,

Cutting its own space for its own accommodation.

Creation of the kingdom is not from giving further babies,

But cutting its own way by the razor blade of the Rigden’s Ashe,

In the same manner as Dawa Sangpo did.

Tiger creates its own blade, very sharp, when tiger is drunk in meekness;

Lion creates its sharp razor blade when it is perky;

Garuda creates its sharp razor blade when it is outrageous;

Dragon creates its sharp razor blade when it is inscrutable.

The method is to sharpen from dull to invisible,

Like the royal ax of the emperor,

Whose blade is invisible but whose weight is heavy-duty—

It will slice without pain,

But come down with utter meaningful weight.

Sun rose from the East,

The Great Eastern Sun arose,

Cutting through with razor knife tripe and beans.

Flag flutters beyond heroism.

Human beings’ sense of humor is superseded.

Warfare doesn’t exist.

Everybody wears a uniform in the heat of the green field.

April 1977
Charlemont, Mass.

This poem was composed during a year of retreat in Charlemont, Massachusetts. During this period, many Shambhala forms were created, including flags and banners, medallions, uniforms, and songs.

Great Eastern Daughterlet

 

When I discovered her,

She was one,

And when I searched for her,

She was ten;

When I sent for her,

She was fifteen;

When I invited her,

She was nineteen;

When I discovered her unicorn’s horn,

She was twenty-five;

When I taught her the English language,

She was fifty;

When I taught her how to walk,

She was seventy;

When I told her that she is the daughter of Shambhala,

She was one hundred and two;

So much for her age.

She still remains nineteen years old—

Princess who possesses the delightful white face of the highland moose.

June 3, 1977
Ingonish, Nova Scotia

Whycocomagh?

 

Sometimes there are trees;

Sometimes there are rocks;

However, occasionally there are lakes;

Always, to be sure, there are houses;

To be sure certain there are views of a certain gentleman being crucified.

Nevertheless, the deep-fried food is very decent,

So good that one almost forgets bourgeois cuisine.

 

The coastal sky seems to frown at us

With its benevolent threat;

Other books

Chance McCall by Sharon Sala
Son of Destruction by Kit Reed
The Afghan by Frederick Forsyth
Bondmaiden by B.A. Bradbury
Dancing Together by Wendi Zwaduk
Guiding the Fall by Christy Hayes
20 Takedown Twenty by Janet Evanovich


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024