I laugh when it hurts

Seldom
I'm talkative.
Frequently terse.
I've never been good,
but I used to be worse.

Always
I'm thinking.
My cognitive curse.
I've never been quiet;
I used to be worse.

You
go ahead.
I don't want to be first.
Frequently hiding.
I used to be worse.

Can't stand the water.
I can't stand the thirst.
I'm frequently vacillating.
Used to be worse.

Seldom
I'm talkative.
Loquacious in verse.
Always repeating;
uncomfortable first.
A bit unexpected,
I laugh when it hurts.
Don't tell me you're serious,
I'm just 'bout to burst!

Yes
I've a meanstreak.
I know where it hurts.
I'm pulling my punches;
don't want to get worse.

A bit unexpected,
I laugh when it hurts.
I've never been proper:
I used to be worse.

No graves in Egypt

Were there no graves in Egypt--
Moses, dear?
Were there no graves in Egypt
that you brought us here?

From the land where we toiled
endlessly.
Even on sabbath,
relentlessly.

Our masters were greedy,
unjust, unfair.
But at least that was yoke
that we could bear.

The desert heat,
we cannot stand.
The hunger and thirst
and scathing sand.

Our feet are scorched.
Our throats so parched.
Our fellows collapsing
as we march.

We've endured the hardships,
but not this bad.
The tears streamed down,
but never this sad.

Were these dark days
coming anyway?
And the desert sun
just might allay...

The most bitter and painful
and rotting tears.
The festering doubts,
and robbing fears.

So before we raise
our fists to curse:
If we never left Egypt
would it be worse?

Were there no graves in Egypt?
No place to lie?
Is that why you led us
to the desert to die?

We have no grounds
which to complain.
Our forbears endured
much greater pain.

Our tests and trials
cannot compare.
They were much more hearty;
we're loathe to bear.

Content with bondage
Content as slaves.
You turned us into
homeless knaves!

Content to toil
for nothing gained.
Our children learned
to do the same.

So before we raise
our fists to curse:
If we were still slaves
would it be worse?

Were there no graves in Egypt--
Moses, friend--
that you brought us to the desert
to meet our end?

---------------------------

This piece also has a counterpart.  Check out the prequel BFE

What's in it for me?

What's in it for me?
Yeah, what's my gain?
I wanna feel different,
yet remain the same.

What's in it for me?
Yeah, divert from loss.
Never once questioning
just who's the boss?

Mechanical outcomes:
zero and one.
If not my way,
then I choose none!

What's in it for me?
Yeah, that's my block.
We say that's freedom,
but that's our flock.

Fly toward pleasure,
flee from pain.
Everybody else
they do the same.

What's in it for me?
Why should I move?
That's the burden
I demand you prove.

What's in it for you?
Yeah, what's your gain?
Compare and compete
for power and fame.

Zealous jealous--
that poisoned itch:

I can't stand to see you rich!

Yet before long,
it's all just dust.
Who keeps the time
by moth and rust?

What's in it for me?
Yeah, that's my greed.
A viral, crippling,
heart disease.

What's in it for me?
That's my decay.
Half life. No life.
Waste away.

What's in it for me?
What's in it for you?
The gain and loss
obstruct the view.

What's in it for me?
Don't answer that.
No thought of gain:

Authentic.

Act.

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?

Breathe

"Stop what you're doing!
Your doing hurts me!"
And if I stop,
they call that mercy.
Such a good son,
the nicest guy.
But something feels
so off inside.

In my heart,
I find no malice.
Yet my actions,
described as callous.
I'm thoughtless, yes.
This much is true.
But I never wished harm
to come to you.

Will it remove the pain
if I change my walk?
And why should I inquire
with so much talk?
If it hurts to watch me
walk this way.
I should change immediately,
without delay!

Applause.
Hey, I'm the nicest guy!
But something feels
so off inside.
It's not their face
in the mirror I see.
So their clapping can't truly
comfort me.

Reflection.
And who's that standing there?
What manner of posture
does he wear?
One that's upright,
standing firm?
Or one consistent
as a worm?

The world's applauding,
but off inside.
How can I stand
to meet my eyes?
If I can't meet
the face I see,
then how can their clapping
comfort me?

Man in the mirror.
Hey, don't forget.
You're supposed to be
a vertebrate.
Know it's not easy.
Expect to fall.
But get up quickly,
and stand so tall.

Stop what you're doing.
Your doing irks me.
And if you stop,
can we call that mercy?
Kindness maybe,
a brief reprieve.
I get back up,
and learn to breathe.

Lotus pond

Burn the incense.
Excuse the mess.
It's filthy here,
I must confess.

What's foul to you
is sweet, we think.
'Cause pigs don't know
that pigs, they stink.

You made us family
instead of guests.
But our foul odor
must make you retch.
Oh what mercy
to descend and bless
we pigs who wallow
without rest!

Proud little monarch
of a garbage hill.
We tumble in feces
and dine on swill.
But at least we rule
and that's our pride.
True fortune
we don't yet realize.

Mother's crying.
Her heart does wrench.
Teacher's choking
on our stench.
How many more messages
must be sent
for us to turn around,
repent?

A diamond thrown
into the muck.
Sent to hopefully
improve our luck.
We burned the saints
and strung them up.
We hate them 'cause
we're so corrupt.

Here's some more rubbish
for the garbage hill.
We tumble in feces
and dine on swill.

Our perfume smells
so sweet, we think.
'Cause pigs don't know
that pigs, they stink.

It's filthy here.
I'm sure you know.
We relax and down
the stream we go.
Against it
we are loathe to row.
From such muck
how does the lotus grow?

Please teach us,
we're not quite sure.
How can the filthy
become pure?

We hate the truth.
We're so corrupt!
We've fallen.
How can we get up?

Mother's crying;
we do not care.
We take too much
and will not share.
We say that life
just isn't fair.
So we strip the land
and lay it bare.

We can't distinguish
want from need.
We reap and reap
but seldom seed.

We're sinking deeper.
We have no root.
We've all but lost
the taste for truth.

Burn more incense,
let Teacher breathe.
From our stink
a brief reprieve.
We reap and reap
let's learn to seed.
Discard our pride,
and let us plead:

What seems so lovely
just isn't so.
Let's take our paddle
against the flow.
Please teach us what
we do not know:
Out of muck
how does the lotus grow?