Live Encounters Poetry & Writing April 2026
Buddha And Socrates And Me, poem by Joe Kidd.
Buddha And Socrates And Me
my father’s name was Cyrus
a kind and generous soul
a soul that required nothing more
we explored together every night
the moon was our haloed navigator
the stars, a map of our celestial domain
the warm air whistled and circulated through
the bush and the valley between the mountains
it sang to us from the zenith of the world
as we traveled forth into the darkness
we created the path that was to be followed
never repeating, never turning
or looking back at the prints of time
at ease we would rest with our feet in the water
an oasis perhaps the result of desire
our sandals were our home and our chosen vehicle
beloved were we of all that we encountered
the milk, the honey, the fruit on the vine
never a question of origin
or the complex arrangement of physique
the doors and the windows of all dimensions
open automation by a voice commanding
as the flesh became the word that required obedience
it was here where the encounter with destiny
where fate had its unexpected way
here at the mouth of the holy cave
where dragons and behemoths shed their skin
gave up their struggle and met their end
turned over to the masters who negotiated my adoption
separated from my clothes, my name, and my birth
this is the home of fearsome power
the horizon of unspeakable events
a gathering of one with the great ‘You Are’
this is where we met, where we graduated
Buddha, five years older than my self
Socrates, five years behind my age
we spoke in the tongue of our own development
the strings of our lutes filled the space between
as we flew over the fields of Alpha Centauri
in our right hand the poets explained the mystery
in our left, the philosophers cried in their sleep
we wrote no book, we claimed no history
beasts of burden, we rode on the back
honorable refuge and a cup bejeweled
you have heard us Howl, On The Road, never traveled
we have changed our names and come back to haunt
give us this day our one hundred years
abandoned like dogs but we will find our way home
all men must live beyond their means
not knowing in advance their capability
the truth bleeding out from an open wound
forever, the span of a fearless life
never, the answer to a question of defeat
the colors encoded within the mind of the wise
illuminate the infinite universe
the room where the magicians cast their spells
and the grave of great knowledge ignored and forgotten
© Joe Kidd
Joe Kidd: Author ‘The Invisible Waterhole’, and ‘Digging Underground/Portrait of a Beat Poet Laureate’. Beat Poet Laureate 2022-2024. Cultural Director, International Diplomat, Official Poet of Govt of Birland. Honorary Doctorate. 2025 Pushcart Prize Nominee. Member: National & International Beat Poet Foundation, 100K Poets For Change, Poets Against Racism & Hate USA, Michigan Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.