Applause

The world's applauding.
Don't pat the back.
You've forgotten all
the things you lack.

Like mercy, compassion,
benevolence.
Wisdom, faith,
and tolerance.

Philadelphia:
have you ever been?
If you bothered knocking
would they let you in?

Or would they bid
you stay outside.
Chastised for not
coming by.

Have you hugged
a post of rusty nails?
Skin so soft,
comfort prevails.

You don't want
to endure the pain.
That's exactly why
you have not changed.

You cultivate with
many words,
but when it comes to action
you lose your nerve.

You hide so others
cannot see
that you're not what
you ought to be.

You can hide from others;
that's cake to do.
But how can you ever
hide from you?

You don't want
to endure the shame.
That's exactly why
you have not changed.

The world's applauding.
Don't pat the back.
You've forgotten all
the things you pack.

Like arrogance, jealousy,
a heart that's lax.
Greed and craving
for sideways tracks.

A seed's been planted.
Well, has it grown?
Don't praise virtue,
reap your own!

You note your faults,
but don't remove.
You catalog,
and don't improve.

Discard self-pity.
Stand upright!
Your vision's blurry.
Use your sight!

The world's applauding.
Don't pat the back.
You've forgotten all
the things you lack.

Mirth

How can I stand here
with a foolish grin?
How did I even
enter in?

A stowaway on
the Dharma Boat.
Why am I treated
without reproach?

I get worse.
I don't improve.
Why am I offered
delicious food?

Why am I not whipped,
thrown to the sea,
abandoned there to drown
endlessly?

I have no merits.
My good points, few.
My two eyes all but
obstruct my view.

We must give an accounting
to heaven and earth.
How can I be given
to fits of mirth?

How did I come
to be your kin?
How did I even
enter in?

How can I stand to
be so lax?
How can I dare
to speak of pax?

My faults are many.
My virtues, none.
How can I approach
the Bodhi Sun?

A stowaway on
the Dharma Boat.
Why am I treated
without reproach?

A saintly vessel.
An upright crew.
How can I dare
wear white and blue?

Multitudes,
they shriek, lament.
I fold my arms,
and won't repent.

Disasters descending
upon the earth.
How can I be given
to fits of mirth?

War and Famine.
Plague and Death.
How did I receive
the boon of Breath?

Inhale. Exhale.
What's that for?
How can I dare
treat life as chore?

There's something
that I vowed to do.
How can I take the false
for true?

I can't just stand here
with a foolish grin.
There must be a reason
they let us in.

We must give an accounting
to heaven and earth.
How can I be given
to fits of mirth?