Category Archives: pdlyons photography

Ah fish gold fish swimming not


the time light travels

the time sight registers

the time thought conceptualizes  ~

that which we call fish

already moved on

the truth of it unperceived.

 

 

Ah fish gold fish swimming not

watercolor collage paper

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A Bamboo Bitch by pd lyons


She’s a bamboo bitch

constantly under

someone’s  finger nails.

On the roof grey shingles

rain collects

finds an escape over the bed.

drop by

drop

the bamboo

grows.

 Tired of a leaky

bed

I lie downstairs

on the couch

trying to see things

in the dark.

When the rain stops

it is so quiet

I think of swimming to Brasil

to tell people

I came from Surinam.

The mud will be deep.

It has rained for days.

But today

sunlight in the dawn

she’s calling me

to see.

 

This was originally published in 1979, Dimensions Magazine. A publication of the then called Mattatuck Community College. I still remember showing the magazine to my grandmother. i felt very proud of the fact that there were 3 of mine in it. Her only comment was did you have to use such language? Referring to the bitch. I have made a few changes to the original but I could not find a way to get away from the bitch. So yes gran’ma , guess I really had to.

 

pdlyons photography

maybe there is this kitchen, random on the spot by pd lyons


theres no place left to walk

there no where ever to go

and whatever might need doing

sure it’ll just get un done

 

so maybe there is this kitchen

maybe the coffees ready

and all the sun that hasn’t shined

decides to forget about winter and

hang around these windows instead

 

what could i do to tell you

what could i say to show you

one day when we were not yet old

didn’t we have so many things to do

and despite all that busy we still found out who we were

 

but now at the end of music

now close to the end of time

now that i’m just on my own

seems like loneliness is ok

some new girl on the stereo

reminding me

a few minutes

to remember

a few minutes beyond regret

you and me

once young

once upon a time

maybe you ‘ll come by

before its too far gone today

i’ll put more coffee on

i’ll share these new tunes with you

and the sun will smile even brighter

or maybe its just me

a bunch of yellow flowers in a jug

a sink of dirty dishes

an old pointer dog greeting you with what was silent tail wag

 

so

 

liberation from suffering is a DIY situation


suffering comes from the erroneous belief in what is not true and striving to maintain that as truth. suffering is a delusion but like a dream it can still cause fear which in turn causes more delusion more suffering. dealing with fear the antidote of which is awareness of the truth, that’s the process of becoming free from suffering. what is true?

for starters how about this – everyone who has ever lived has or will die. this includes everyone you  know including yourself. that is truth. that’s the beginning of liberation – sitting with that for a while. seeing if that causes you more or less suffering than not contemplating it. See if there is a way to sit with that truth without it being a cause of suffering? can you? does it?

give yourself no preconceived notion. give yourself the space and time to sit with the truth, your truth and see what its like for you.

as the saying goes – Food off another’s  spoon will not nourish your wisdom.

In other-words accept no spoon fed answers. challenge all belief assessing their truth through your own self. liberation from suffering is a DIY situation.

 

 

thanks for the inspiration sorry about the preach. cheers.

 

would i see you there by pd lyons


would i see you there

with your big face smiles

your sense of wonder

your denim styles

you were shy to me

yet you followed me

when I turned around,

until you betrayed by your own laughter

I had no idea

What you would dare.

Oh

But where ever you are now

I cannot say

Whatever you went through I have no clue

Those streets those hometown streets

Once mine

Once yours

I have not returned

I have not ever left

And you not really you

but still the you I used to know

Wouldn’t you be there

If I went back

Your big face smiles

Your denim styles

Your ever wondrous self.

Where else could you really be

Who else could you ever be, to me

We can never obtain peace –The Dalai Lama


We can never obtain peace

We can never obtain peace in the world if we neglect the inner world and don’t make peace with ourselves. World peace must develop out of inner peace. Without inner peace it is impossible to achieve world peace, external peace. Weapons themselves do not act. They have not come out of the blue. Man has made them. But even given those weapons, those terrible weapons, they cannot act by themselves. As long as they are left alone in storage they cannot do any harm. A human being must use them. Someone must push the button. Satan, the evil powers, cannot push that button. Human beings must do it.
–The Dalai Lama, in The Dalai Lama: A Policy of Kindness

 

the thing is, the buddha didn’t go – he stayed

he liked the woman who knew about bones 5 photo series by pd lyons


he liked the woman who knew about bones

 

sometimes I miss the horse days & someplace, by pd lyons


occasional it happens

 stray song over the kitchen radio

 old photo tucked into a book that for no reason i just picked up to thumb through

i hardly let it pause me

i usually just keep going

 

occasional it happens

 my old bones do an old ache

  glimpse that crooked clavicle in the bathroom mirror

 hardly let it pause me

 usually just keep going

 

occasional it happens

strong scent of well oiled leather maybe someones coat

packed tight on the morning train

mists trough the damp windows

shadows moving up the hills

hardly let it pause me

 usually just keep going

 

occasional it happens

but you know sometimes when it does

i just don’t feel like moving

stay right there  face the tears

yeah sometimes i miss the horse days

sometimes i just fucking do

 

Someplace

Down on the avenue
Work ’til the day is through
I just want to get away
But you know I never do.
And when the sun goes down
I’ll be sitting all alone
Watch them old cowboy shows
On some second hand video.

Wishing I was someplace
Where grass just grows n rain is clean
Where horses run and black birds sing
Someplace where the sky is big n the only cry
From an eagle on the wing.

But I’m city bound by plastic chains
Robbed to death by men with ball point pens.
My hopes gone up in Marlboro smoke
N ghosts of what used to be my dreams
Haunt me with wondering if I’ll live long enough to ever be

Someplace where grass just grows n rain is clean
Where horses run n black birds sing
Someplace where the sky is big and the only cry
From an eagle on the wing.

Someplace where I can ride for days
N never see another human being

 

pdlyonsphoto

pdlyonsphoto

pdlyonsphoto

Mother Nature by pd Lyons


I am blue skies

trailed with perfect black birds

over an autumnal tree line

 

I am an ocean so blue

it makes everything else seem white,

A forest of shadows so deep any midnight would be envious

 

I have been the heat from which the iron of this planet

ran .

I have been an ice so deep

that for a thousand years the sun stood in retreat.

 

 

And you with self shackled minds,

dreams tinier than any, ever- living thing ?

what you do you think pursuers of poisons?

are there any poisons that are not mine?

what do you think deniers of your own senses?

where do you think the chemicals for those thoughts come from?

 

I have seen stars begin and watched them dwindle.

I have seen every living thing that has ever done so,

and will see every one that ever will be, born and die.

 

Do  you think I who hold on to nothing care about what you do?

 

 

this spring ( for mara) by pd lyons


 

always willing to go

always yes, never no

protector of my daughter

her first time home alone

 

days so grey I couldn’t imagine telling any one else about –

you were my only confidante

 

where you are now

i don’t know

but there’ s this place in my heart

where, whenever i call,

i know you’ll come

 

do dogwoods grow in this country?

if so  this spring i’ll plant one where you lie

 

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