The story of a Buddhist who has but two loves in his life: Birds and Voodoo.


A Black Magic Buddhist

In the plains of Chinese soil, on the green and brown of Earth
There lies a little grove, which is the setting of my birth
Now I was a small bit out of place in my little town
And was the only starving boy with not-so-starving girth
I'll admit that I was round and did not know my worth

My mother was a farmer with devotion to her spouse
My father loved her back a little less than in her blouse
They had me quite by accident, of this I do not care
I could not see too much of them, for they worked out the house
There I would observe and stare at all the birds and grouse

For all my love of life above, I simply must indulge
I was to join the Temple, to my parents I divulged
I was growing weary of the simple old routine
I had to make escape from mothers pick and fathers bulge
Across the plains I marched, to liberation there I trudged

Buddha is my life, they tell me, Buddha is my best
Buddha, to myself, can suck my nine down from my chest
I read some books on voodoo, so now the birds I can control
I set them on the monks, those little freaks can taste some crest
Let us put this new found power to a little test



Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 480 times
Written on 2007-01-16 at 02:43

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Kathy Lockhart
okay Michael, I need the bird of paradise to drop by with some money and Johnny Depp...Okay, okay he's married. Well then just the money will do. I'll take care of the rest. This is your first test. Does Buddah like money? Well if he doesn't just use the voodoo part of you. : )
2007-01-16