A Thought-Poem on Society
What now,
That you’ve
taken
the joy of sex,
and made it
a
neurotic
to be cured,
alleviated,
anesthetized?
What now,
that you’ve turned
Creation
of ex proprio,
so that even
the imagination
is a crime?
What now,
With no God,
no
heaven, no hell,
no life,
or after death;
when all the
world
is maya,
does your navel
become
the Buddha
breast?
