Wee Valentine Poem
one flower among many,
yet she smiles to the sun,
because she's never been forgotten.
her fragrance stuns the troubled mind,
silk petals sooth wounds,
and her courage bears heirs among
the vulnerable souls.
A Fistful of Buddha
'How did I come into this', he told himself in thoughts, munching on a buttered ham sandwich, matter-of-factly, with the air of a man who has seen it all and came to accept the vicissitudes of life, still somewhat grudgingly. Suddenly, unaware that his moody rethoric question would turn out to be an adumbration of his forthcoming brewing imagination,this lama guy materializes close to him, floating saintly above the floor, all rugose leathery skin, all the bearings of sanctity, and all Eastasian insular smugness that comes with those ruddy chaps. It was one of those reincarnistas , who play with words: dharma, karma but sadly no shoarma to salivitate his appetite running asunder. The lama secreted bliss and smiled patronizing. No less like a magician holding all cards and conning the crowd to believe in his tricks. His speech was sheer catechismus,repeated over time til his voice, now shrill and trembling, buckling under all that panache, could no longer mask that his enl...
Comments