
I met the Buddha out on the road, so I killed him.
I pulled out my trusty old 44 mag and I drilled him.
And all the love and compassion flowed out which had formerly filled him
As the cold hand of death reached in and finally chilled him.
Now I practice the Dharma and my own form of meditation.
I gave up the booze and transcendental medication.
I raised myself up to a higher spiritual station,
And I'm speaking to Larry King and the United Nations.
So if you meet the Buddha remember he's not like he feels.
Don't let him sell you no bells or them spinning prayer wheels.
His saffron robes and his sandals look so down at the heels,
He's all out of offers and beyond Scientology deals.
Now the Buddha's got nothing to do with any religion,
He just wants you to lift your standard of ethics a smidgen.
So be mindful of meditation and the worlds that you're bridgin'
And your spirit may soar on the innocent wings of a pigeon.



Salon.com
Comments
As someone who does ritual poetry in triplets, I appreciate your finding rhymes in fours!
This was intended to be a light-hearted expression of the serious thought that even an ignorant lout can receive the Buddha's teachings, and a reminder that he never intended them to be a religion.
Myriad need three bulldog?
Body guards and sweet pets!
A rot welder plumber to protect her?
A collie and poppy-bagels with locks?
A poodle who will sit on Myriad's lap?
gads.
tease.
love Ya.
W.Gallant deserves to be rich pet chauffeur!
That's to insist:`Open Salon needs to pay Ya!
Ya can be a common sense OS'er physicians!