Senseless Weekend Sarcasm: Really bad poetry Zen
Ever get tired of all things but life,
the unneeded drama, conflict and strife?
Waking up groggy, you walk t’ward the mirror,
seeing a monster you shudder in terror.
The thing staring at you has wrinkles like prunes,
and teeth that remind you of Rome’s ancient ruins.
You dream of a day when you need no alarm,
too poor to experience luxury’s arms.
When will life start and the “happy” begin?
When “body” means nothing, and love never ends?
The moment of oneness that comes from within,
after cleaning with lysol, you’ve still achieved Zen.