the Master told me if i see Buddha slay him;
[for]he is an imposter. i chortled, smiled.

this Man of the Cloth, this Cleric, Knower
instructed me to slay Buddha, is he crazy?

i flip through the channels. ahh, Robert Tilton,
then there's Benny Hinn, Pat Robertson, Falwell,
Swaggert, Oral[wish-he-wasn't]Roberts, ad infinitum.

the wise man's words settle in my craw;
won't be swallowed; dry, parched,cracked.

the fog begins lifting from Morgan's pond
and exposes Buddha changing his dirty shirt.

as he turns his familarity is striking;
he is me, i am him. i'll never see Buddha.

09/13/2008

Posted on 09/13/2008
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