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|The Tao Is Jeans And Beans (standard:poetry, 578 words)|
|Author: Billy Jack Baxter||Added: Sep 20 2003||Views/Reads: 2042/0||Story 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. Tweet
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