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The Tao Is Jeans And Beans (standard:poetry, 578 words)
Author: Billy Jack BaxterAdded: Sep 20 2003Views/Reads: 1669/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
"The Tao Is Jeans And Beans" is a one line poem or thought that I read in Jack Kerouac's "Some of the dharma" and was the inspiration for this poem.
 



Tao hobo, Buddhist recluse, Dharma bum, strolling down back roads
Listening to the hum— raggedy-patched jeans, burlap sac o' beans, cook 
Pot thin As an onion skin— dusty shoddy sandals, knapsack full o' 
Candles— shaggy haired bearded Taoist monk giggling to himself in the 
Lonely morning dawn— endless distant stars In the moonless night, all 
These things Make it right? 

I need to know everything gonna be alright— everything gonna be OK— I
Need to know everything in the World gonna be just fine— I look for 
Signs Of mind calming Certainty... 

People taking a simple bedroll and sleeping outside— gardens are good—
People walking for exercise and transportation— lollypops, ice cream— 
Lil' snotty nosed kids runnin' barefoot, climbing trees With scabby 
knees— people fishing for food! Not just sport— blue oceans And lazy 
Palm tree lined cays, Smelly inland bays— dirt roads, open ranges— 
Wide-eyed deer— jackrabbits standing dumb struck On blacktop New Mexico 
Roads at night— Tortilla an' beans— Margaritas, Senoritas— Homemade 
Wine, Old wooden floored Tucked away bars— 

I like to stop and realize the purity of objects, like the moon Shinning
In absolute silence in the high desert night... --Wondrous— A green 
Pine treetop In the radiant Blue sky, A bed of soft meadow grass To lie 
And ask why— 

I like hearing songsters Of high mountain timbers, With their sweet
serenade to miles of endless voids... Only lucky ears hear— 

I like smelling the greasewood plant On hot summer days... Reminds me of
Creosote Smelly railroad ties Where I laid secret pennies of youth on 
Hard iron rails— 

I like feeling the empty vastness Of barren Rocky canyons— The wind
Quaking golden Aspens near the timber line, while the poem Of 
Foreverness goes on undisturbed— 

The way gentle rain makes mountain grasses greener; Then travels down,
Down, eventually uniting With great Mother Ocean to complete Nature's 
Cycle... 

...While we ride the big ball through never ending space... Spacey
Emptiness we've never touched before and never will again— 

Downy clouds that swell, migrating through foreverness heavens marching
On to prepare For late evening's color fest; changing hues ever so 
Slowly— yellows like gold, reds, all shades, Finally bruising to 
Unexplainable purples encased against darkening night's sky, to sleep 
‘Til morning's light— 

I can still see you, clumsy porcupine, quilled armor mirroring atop the
Ancient Pinon skeleton tree far across the canyon— Brittle twigs 
Snapping, echoing in the stillness Of the morning air— Great teeth 
Stripping away dead dry bark... I stopped and wondered why You were 
Eating The tree— 

I also wonder how in water filled limestone depressions, In dry mountain
Creek beds after a summer thundershower, tadpoles can multiply so fast 
And why... The roar of silence is so loud When all is So quiet— 

The echo screech of a lofty hawk content with the current— 

And in the stillness of the night With only heavens tinkling light, I
Will return to you, fabulous landscapes of my thought, walk among you, 
Great trees as old as I— And you too, trees much older than I, who have 
Fallen to replenish the Earth— I will again cook my beans from your 
Stumps, and warm the backside Of my jeans Until your ashes are soft and 
Pure as a baby's dream— 

The Tao is now! The Tao is jeans and beans, and all the in-betweens— 

Billy Jack Baxter 

“The Tao is Jeans and Beans” I borrowed from Jack Kerouac, but all the
in-betweens are mine. 


   


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