Sunday, 9 March 2008
Here I am in bloomin' heck
To feel what grief is, with my neck.
Loss of head is felt still better
In the woozy realm of yearning preta.
Where sheep and donkeys roam around,
Apes stand, by instinct, on the ground,
Till fierce half-men drive pests away
And yell "Just sit! Do as I say!"
But balance in the human sphere
Depends upon the inner ear.
I hold this view and think I'm clever...
The wheel revolves, sure as ever,
Till back I am in bloomin' heck,
Short of sleep and stiff of neck.
Mind experts talk of moving on.
But this way is my only one.
Not having planned a second way,
I mainly sit, four times a day.
Deep in blue/white hell, I sit;
If hell it is, then so be it.
Not knowing where I am, I sit,
Like a bleating lamb, I sit,
Like a demon's punch, I sit;
Anticipating lunch, I sit...
And taste samsara:
This is it.
Knowing this so well, I sit...
Down in ruddy hell....