The Plight
There once was an old man named Shrewd
Who loved to strut proud in the nude.
With white flesh stark bare
His dance had such flare
As he waltzed bare foot to his mood.
The choice of his venues were vast,
From crowded cafes to great parks.
But always the same
Complete lack of shame
Left onlookers awed and aghast.
Eventually came the dark day
The local law had his own way.
With cuffs and a gun
He stopped the man's fun.
No more could that bare bum display.
So dear old Shrewd went to court
With hopes of a sentence made short.
But the judge was a mean
Fat man of esteem.
Self interest was all that he thought.
He sentenced dear Shrewd to one life.
Hard labour and manual strife.
Shrewd shocked with despair
At the sentence unfair
Took hostage the judge with a knife.
"You don't understand what it means
To run nude and not care if I'm seen!
Pursuit of the truth
Is what makes me uncouth...
To rid of my ego unclean!"
Holding the guards safe at bay,
The blade held close to his prey,
Shrewd voiced his loud spiel
With a scared girlie squeal,
And this is what Shrewd had to say:
"For years my life seemed but a joke.
Pointless and void of all hope.
I worked and I slept.
But still my heart wept.
The tears and the fears made me choke."
"Looking around I could see
The world was no different from me.
Trapped in this cage
From youth to old age.
How can we truly be free?"
"Soon I could see the strong chain
That bound me to all of this pain.
Attachment to this
Impermanent mist.
This dream we call life that's a game."
"That is all quite very well,"
Said the judge, (whose fear Shrewd could smell).
"But how this explains
Your nudity games,
I confess I really can't tell?"
"It's simple you silly old coot!
It's a matter of points that are moot.
Sit still and refrain.
I'll try to explain
The display of my grand birthday suit."
"First I got rid of my wealth.
Possessions degraded my health.
The car and the boat.
The TV remote.
These things were not part of my self."
"Next came attachments to life.
My job plus close friends and the wife.
One day I'd return
To these things that I'd spurned,
But first I must leave my own strife."
"Soon I was out on the street,
With nought but old rags and bare feet.
Yet still there was pain
And a deep sense of shame.
What stopped me from reaching my peak?"
"One morn I did see a young child
Play in a rainstorm so wild.
The wind whipped his hair
Yet he seemed not to care.
Indeed his mood seemed rather mild."
"'Boy!' I called out to the lad.
'Can one young as you be this mad?
It's wet and it's cold
And I'm sure you've been told
To not play in foul weather this bad.'"
"'Sir!' Was the bold chap's reply.
'Most days I am usually dry.
But why run away
When now I can play
In puddles and thundering sky?'"
"I confess that I'm really quite dense.
At first the boys words seemed nonsense.
But young words are wise...
It made me realize
We're all running from common sense."
"Each day is a gift brought anew
To rejoice and to live it right through.
But the foul view that goes
By the name of Ego
Makes us see through our own points of view."
"Now don't get me wrong for I feel
Our views should be treasured with zeal.
But most of us fail
To see how we're stale
When we trade those same views for what's real."
"Stop trying to find what is true:
There's simply no thing to pursue.
We're already here.
Perfect and clear.
Forget what you think should be you."
"Drop all the thoughts and mistrust.
Perceptions wiped clear like old dust.
Simply to be
All that is me.
No need to be lost in my lust."
The judge looked on much confused.
Clearly he seemed not amused.
The meaning of life?
The blade of a knife?
The laws that Shrewd had abused!
"Clearly the truth is your quest.
Your life much like Hermann Hesse.
But here you still stand -
A knife in your hand.
I doubt that you've quite reached your best."
Shrewd looked down at the blade.
Righteousness soon seemed to fade.
It seemed all along
He still dwelled in wrong.
Still he was lost and afraid.
"It seems I have fallen back down.
A fact pointed out by a clown.
I'm sick of this mess.
I just long for death...
Buried six foot underground."
A fantasy ran through Shrewd's head.
The knife deep in his throat instead.
A safe place to hide
In suicide.
Comfortable on his deathbed.
Alas poor old Shrewd was too late.
The weight of his crime was too great.
Speeding hot lead
Went straight through his head
As snipers decided his fate.
Who loved to strut proud in the nude.
With white flesh stark bare
His dance had such flare
As he waltzed bare foot to his mood.
The choice of his venues were vast,
From crowded cafes to great parks.
But always the same
Complete lack of shame
Left onlookers awed and aghast.
Eventually came the dark day
The local law had his own way.
With cuffs and a gun
He stopped the man's fun.
No more could that bare bum display.
So dear old Shrewd went to court
With hopes of a sentence made short.
But the judge was a mean
Fat man of esteem.
Self interest was all that he thought.
He sentenced dear Shrewd to one life.
Hard labour and manual strife.
Shrewd shocked with despair
At the sentence unfair
Took hostage the judge with a knife.
"You don't understand what it means
To run nude and not care if I'm seen!
Pursuit of the truth
Is what makes me uncouth...
To rid of my ego unclean!"
Holding the guards safe at bay,
The blade held close to his prey,
Shrewd voiced his loud spiel
With a scared girlie squeal,
And this is what Shrewd had to say:
"For years my life seemed but a joke.
Pointless and void of all hope.
I worked and I slept.
But still my heart wept.
The tears and the fears made me choke."
"Looking around I could see
The world was no different from me.
Trapped in this cage
From youth to old age.
How can we truly be free?"
"Soon I could see the strong chain
That bound me to all of this pain.
Attachment to this
Impermanent mist.
This dream we call life that's a game."
"That is all quite very well,"
Said the judge, (whose fear Shrewd could smell).
"But how this explains
Your nudity games,
I confess I really can't tell?"
"It's simple you silly old coot!
It's a matter of points that are moot.
Sit still and refrain.
I'll try to explain
The display of my grand birthday suit."
"First I got rid of my wealth.
Possessions degraded my health.
The car and the boat.
The TV remote.
These things were not part of my self."
"Next came attachments to life.
My job plus close friends and the wife.
One day I'd return
To these things that I'd spurned,
But first I must leave my own strife."
"Soon I was out on the street,
With nought but old rags and bare feet.
Yet still there was pain
And a deep sense of shame.
What stopped me from reaching my peak?"
"One morn I did see a young child
Play in a rainstorm so wild.
The wind whipped his hair
Yet he seemed not to care.
Indeed his mood seemed rather mild."
"'Boy!' I called out to the lad.
'Can one young as you be this mad?
It's wet and it's cold
And I'm sure you've been told
To not play in foul weather this bad.'"
"'Sir!' Was the bold chap's reply.
'Most days I am usually dry.
But why run away
When now I can play
In puddles and thundering sky?'"
"I confess that I'm really quite dense.
At first the boys words seemed nonsense.
But young words are wise...
It made me realize
We're all running from common sense."
"Each day is a gift brought anew
To rejoice and to live it right through.
But the foul view that goes
By the name of Ego
Makes us see through our own points of view."
"Now don't get me wrong for I feel
Our views should be treasured with zeal.
But most of us fail
To see how we're stale
When we trade those same views for what's real."
"Stop trying to find what is true:
There's simply no thing to pursue.
We're already here.
Perfect and clear.
Forget what you think should be you."
"Drop all the thoughts and mistrust.
Perceptions wiped clear like old dust.
Simply to be
All that is me.
No need to be lost in my lust."
The judge looked on much confused.
Clearly he seemed not amused.
The meaning of life?
The blade of a knife?
The laws that Shrewd had abused!
"Clearly the truth is your quest.
Your life much like Hermann Hesse.
But here you still stand -
A knife in your hand.
I doubt that you've quite reached your best."
Shrewd looked down at the blade.
Righteousness soon seemed to fade.
It seemed all along
He still dwelled in wrong.
Still he was lost and afraid.
"It seems I have fallen back down.
A fact pointed out by a clown.
I'm sick of this mess.
I just long for death...
Buried six foot underground."
A fantasy ran through Shrewd's head.
The knife deep in his throat instead.
A safe place to hide
In suicide.
Comfortable on his deathbed.
Alas poor old Shrewd was too late.
The weight of his crime was too great.
Speeding hot lead
Went straight through his head
As snipers decided his fate.