May we all burst like bubbles
And begin to share the air
Bubbles don't last forever
One day we'll all be free
How can it be when I look for me
There's no one to see
How can it be, when I look for me
There's no one to see, how can it be

If I look in here, or I look out there
I can't find me, anywhere
My head's not me, my leg's not me
Where can I be?
My brain is not, the me that I see
Where can I be

I see me all the time it seems
During night-time dreams
And when the sun is shining
How can it be, when I look for me
There's no one to see, how can it be

Subtle mind swimming 'round
A dream-like sea of reality
I need to know that every thing
Including me, is illusory

Sean Hunt  
2015  Windermere

Exits, Graceful, Ungraceful and Disgraceful

Death you dangerous guest
You definitely come
At a definitely unpredictable time
It is very rare for one
Who will depart with you
To have time
For small talk

The ambush man
Crouching down
Out of view
Suddenly surprises you,
Usually!

But sometimes there's time
For small talk
Or a walk hand in hand
Time to brace one's self

Sometimes holy men make a graceful exit
A warm embrace, an ironic smile,
A denial to beguile
The phantom ephemeral beast

Death, I know
You are mere illusion
It's up to me if I see you as real,
In my confusion

Sean Hunt
Windermere  May 2015

Do We Know Peace

We know war?
Do we know peace?
Most of us only know war
From news and TV
From movies
Far removed from
Reality
But do we know peace?

Peace is an absence of war
Peace is also an absence of
Addiction,
Obsession,
An absence of
Uncontrolled desire,
An absence of
Intense emotion,
An absence of grasping
At things,
And people,
And ideas,
And theories,
And countries,
And football teams

Sean Hunt
2015 Windermere

Fenced In

Yes
We are fenced in
'They' have fenced us in
But the lock is imaginary
Thus we have the key
And we are free

Sean Hunt  
Windermere   2015 January 31st

Imagine
every single person
here on earth
is black
please don't have
a heart attack

all the shirts are purple
shoes are blue
cars too
so they can't say
anything
about you

and all the houses
painted pink
if you don't want to end up
in the clink

imagine
all we've got
is muslim mosques
where we can pray
I wonder what
we would say

Sean Hunt
Feb 14th 2015

Here I am to sing my song
The one I've sung For O so long
From London town
To Windermere
I sang it there
I sing it here
I know the tune
I know the words
This is my song
You've never heard

I never wanted
To be seen
So many people seemed so mean
Some would wound me with their eyes
They cut me up
With little knives
The torture chamber
Was my world
But I was grit
inside a pearl

Now I know
It's all a dream
Why do I still
Want to scream
I wonder when
That day will come
When I no longer want to run
I know the day will arrive
When peoples' eyes
Don't feel like knives

I'm not a boy
In a new country
Who doesn't want
To be seen
Now there's no mum
There's no dad
There's no one
To treat me bad
My hair is gone
My hair is grey
And soon I'll go
To my grave
This is my magic
Shadow show
Where I make tigers
This I know

Sean Hunt
Windermere Nov 13 2015

I Am A Rainbow
I come and I go.
Where from where to?
Few know
You think you see me up in the sky
Touching the ground, from on high
In days of old, tales were told
They say at my feet,
Lay pots of gold
If you search, you'll not find any thing
The gold is illusory, just like me
Fondness for foibles, fiction and fable
You've been hoodwinked, I'm unstable
I look down below and what do I see?
People coming and going just like me
They think they're different; they don't know?
We are the same, we're all rainbows
We wear our art, iridescent garb
Like sound in a seashell
We're all special
Hello and goodbye my colorful friend
We will meet again, in the end.

Sean Hunt  
Windermere  May 2015

I Am The Book

I am the book, that you read, in the afternoon
By the light of the day,  
Or at night by the light of a bright moon.

If you close your eyes,  I will steal away
But I will return, when you open them, again.

You hold me in your hands,  so you know me very well
You read me every day, and you have a tale to tell

I ask you where am I, when your eyes are open wide
You show me, but what about when your eyes are shut tight?

The book you see, is it the cover, hard-bound or soft?
You will tell me, no, no, definitely not!

I ask you then, am I page one? You say that I am not,
You say the same about the others, to the last page that you bought

We agree, you and me, that I am not a page
I sing Hallelujah!, Oh happy happy day!

You may say I'm a collection, of things that are not me
You must contemplate, and meditate on this impossibility!

I come from your imagination

I'm your creation,  “wonderful” !  (If I may say),
But on the day of your enlightenment, I will stay away.
Along with every 'thing', that you see, today

Sean
2015 in Windermere

Essence of
Buddha's teachings
Succinctly stated:
No Self
No Problem

Monarchic Rant

Though I was born in Britain
I am not a 'Brit'
I do not fit in
Their houses are so cold
Because they are too cheap
To turn up the ****** heat

I find some of them deceitful,
They self-righteously pretend
To be serene
And peaceful
But love to fight
All over the world
Blasting other beings
Into the netherworld

Tied to tradition
They insist
On going against the global grain
They weigh in stones
And still drive on the wrong
****** side of the road

They sing 'God Save The Queen'.
God has more common sense
He believes the word 'Excellency'
A too commonly used currency
Slapped, like a hat
On the head of a simple aristocrat

God save the common people
Living under too many thumbs
Of  pretentious and powerful people,
With utterly obscene incomes

Sean Hunt  Windermere Dec. 7, 2015