lying cramped in the tub
feeling like I’ve done this not hundreds
but infinite times before
floating here in scented water salted
overly concerned with eight unavoidable concerns
actually caring to be incensed or insulted!
tossed about violently and needlessly by eight winds!
anyway, words are received meaninglessly, buoyant on the sea
of a soured mind, like mine
if I observe for even a moment
I bear witness: I exist so foolishly
perfumed, smelling sweet as a rose
but still rotting with refusal to diffuse
the subtle self-cherishing arising
I see delusions and try to oppose
the inappropriate attention
hooking my senses
guiding me toward inappropriate action
easy to engage for a moment of mild enjoyment
but how much sweeter the treat of her
if you bank with interest for later delight
collected faster with correct imagination
using wise discrimination to do right
saving a virtuous treasure for
an auspicious time, devoid kryptonite
unknown to a non-clairvoyant,
powerful but ignorant mind, like mine
still, I accept that the merit must ripen and
I can find the fruits faster, not by cheating,
but by pure intention and
multiplying with imagination for
immeasurables and always remembering
the tub is the nature of suffering
changing, and misunderstood
The Halfwit Writer 