Poetry


Chatting with the Fish


In chatting with the fish I came to know something strange; 
They segregate into two styles well worth studying: 

The fighting fish, gourami, oscars, and the like 
cling to self, attach to mates, and protect their nests. 
Honor crazed and fierce, they are instinctual fighters, 
snapping and biting their fish friends most insanely. 

The other kind, like Tilapia, are curiously different: 
they make no effort to dominate a mate as their own,
they wander like ascetics, hearts like monks,
leaving their eggs behind without a care.

They are just like homeless wanderers, 
rather than those stuck on 'Ego' till they die.

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Buk-Bik Doesn't Drink


Old Buk-bik shakes his head at the least whiff of booze, 
even when the odor is mixed into the very best of cakes, 
a single box costing a frightening amount of money.
Takes my heart away: the buyer wanted to make merit!

A real treat, but why won't this dog even touch it? 
Because of its smell, he goes crazy and pees in disgust.
Just a whiff and no dog would think it of any value;
the whole pack goes wild in their refusal to eat it.

Ponder this, please, when you pour from your bottle:
Push a dog to drink, he'll just turn his back on it and flee 
leaving the whole bottle behind for people to upend.
So drink up instead of the dog — then who's laughable?

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