doorman

Jan 07, 2010 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

Tantra Now

Outside again, out where we

work for a living, go to bed in

evenings with myriad noises of

self- fulfillment lingering behind

forget-me-not's and brave hope,-

the shopping lists, mind's knot left

weeping in closed offices, our child

wails in the empty malls

The ticket, outside to dream, for once,-

breaking eggs and coffee mugs, orange

peel, and all the wheels that roll toward the

Hanging Gardens of Babylon

Such strange defiance, that we, the sunlit of this

morn, can tell of nothing but growth?

Cause that, my friend, is what we call love.

— doorman, Jan 07, 2010

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: NOR

Critiques

doorman

16 years 5 months ago

Pre-edit

It's messy. Got caught trying to make it look nice(why?!),- and so the rhythm's choppy. Any suggestions are most welcome. Espen.

Kailashana

16 years 5 months ago

Espen, I’ll be back…like

Espen, I'll be back...like you know who... tired now. And any Poem with Tantra & Hanging Gardens of Babylon in it, will always get my attention. ~Anna

doorman

16 years 5 months ago

Then have a good night’s

Then have a good night's sleep, Anna. And, as always, thanks for reading. Yours, Espen.

Bonitaj

16 years 5 months ago

If this is Tantra - give me more! Hi Espen, I didn't feel the choppiness at all, in fact I thought it fitting how you've juxtaposed the minutuae of reality, the "work for a living" with it's drudgery of "shopping lists" against that not so "strange deviance" to take that "ticket to dream" ;) Really enjoyable read! THanks Bonita j

doorman

16 years 5 months ago

Hey Bon!

I was a little hesitant posting it, but it seems you caught it gracefully. Thanks for checking it out. Yours, Espen.

weirdelf

16 years 5 months ago

oh, so beautiful

I got in trouble with tantra in my youth, created a feedback cycle that burnt our chakras instead of celebrating the divine fuck of Shakti and Shiva. Strangely hit a nerve with "shopping lists" because her previous lover used to chat during sex. Our divine silence burnt us out but we were a bit closer to the musical spheres. You said it better than I ever could. Sorry, I choose not to crit poetic technicalities. Cheers, Jess, reprehensibly irrepressible

doorman

16 years 5 months ago

Thanks for listening in on

Thanks for listening in on this one, Jess. Glad it invoked some karmic memories. Sharing tunes beats chatting any day, even if it burns. Best regards, Espen.

Kailashana

16 years 5 months ago

I’m back. Keep falling

I'm back. Keep falling asleep and awakening in Tantra's arms... sometimes it/I'm hotter than hell...sometimes cold as ice. And there isn't a word I would change in your poem, dear Espen. Not a word. ~A

doorman

16 years 5 months ago

Dear Anna

Fire and ice,- Good places to be with a pen and some paper,- before it gets lukewarm. I read 'J'accuse'. A write brimming with energy and refreshing conflict! I'll come back to give you my thoughts on it. Thank you, again, Anna. Yours, Espen.

lyz

16 years 5 months ago

Dear Espen

Lovely to read your poetry again. This I have found different to your others but if you tried too hard, well it turned out okay. As for tantra, I hate to admit, i only know about tantra sex, terrible ignorance on my part, I know, so this poem is quite delicate and I enjoyed the read. And love, what a way to describe it. Love Lyz. XX

doorman

16 years 4 months ago

Hi Lyz, good to see you

Hi Lyz, good to see you again. A slightly different sort of love poem, but then again, I've had some strange dreams of late. I'm glad you liked it though. Thank you for stopping by to read. Yours, Espen

Ink Dragon

16 years 5 months ago

Caught between everyday worry and extraordinary bliss?

Yes, dear Espen, that sounds like love. Though being caught between the rock and the hard place is often believed to be love by some. Yours, ~Nina

doorman

16 years 4 months ago

What an obscure, soft word

What an obscure, soft word love is. Yours, Espen

Nordic cloud

16 years 4 months ago

“Hvilken vidunderlig

"Hvilken vidunderlig live, jeg hugger ved og jeg baerer vann."(?) What a wonderful life I chop wood and I fetch water(?) ......or something like that dear Tantric Nordic-spirited American dreamer. Yes that's it, that's life/love, living in the suchness of things. The 'wabi' of life. But then I have translated it into the Zen philosophy and there is perhaps an equivalent sentiment in the Tantric one I don't know. But how we see it is each our own thought, here you point out the contrast of the 'growth' . Progress for progress's sake no little hesitant glimpse of that which we could hold so precious, the ordinary things of life, the everydayness of existence and its quality of continuity and love. Love Ann of Norway.