The Lilly Pad

The sunlight with its alchoholic dew

Has charmed my eyes to blink aside the day

And when it ope'd the night was choking vapor

And mortal panic ticked away the seconds

Was I meant...

To toil my nights and rest my days?

To dream my life and live my dreams?

That Maverick Ethan Hunt would tell me

"Your are possesed of an alien spirit

sacrificed to a volcano eons ago

and this holocaust's psychic imprint

can be removed with thorough auditing

and a hefty donation"

The priest would call it heavy sin

upon my conscience.  "You must,"

He says, "repent with five Hail Mary's

and a hefty donation"

The Atheist would call it nerves and tissue

While the Agnostic wouldn't have a clue

And Christian Science would tell me to accept my self

as spiritual; a spectre that can part from earthly slings and arrows

while my heart still beats within

... And claim that herpes disappears with prayer.

The Deacon would sympathize at the potluck

over a dish of greenbeans and almonds.

The Rabbi would call it good old fashioned guilt

and approve

And Hindus would just say

"next time will be better"

I do not know why it is,

I simply know that it is

...Until I met a Buddhist who told me

"pain is an illusion"

and beat me black and blue to prove his point.

When higher aims are left behind to languish

And killer rage demands its rightful space

And nature has forsaken logic’s hand

The head will twist its sinews into anguish

And mutiny against the vile and base

Ignoring dark reptilia’s demand.