Having lived a life and being bullied and brow beaten by every form of bean counter,
I’m convinced if Jesus were to come tomorrow he wouldn’t get too far.
Would he be an illegal alien?
Where would his passport be?
What kind of paperwork would he have?
Had he paid his dues and taxes?
How about an ID?
Thoughts on the rocks.
Memories in a box.
A drawer full of socks.
I can’t find the locks.
This room full of clocks.
Life’s full of shocks.
He’s clever as a fox.
So down with the pox.
There’s trouble on the docks.
And ticks with no tocks.
Sometimes when I start my meditation
I feel as if I’m trying to roll my cursor
to the field in my mind where my third eye lies.
Then I click and I’m down the rabbit hole of nothingness.
You know it’s time to stop trying to meditate
when your thoughts are swarming your mind like angry bees.