The Rumors of the End of my Existential Existence are greatly Exaggerated...          

I may be a Buddhist,

Lost am I in a transcendental mist,

I may be writing herein with a twist,

Doubt though I will be in anyway missed…

On dog food we can subsist,

I of the past have reminisced,

Food too hard for me to resist,

In my pants I have just pissed…

Raised have I a defiant fist,

At the end it does exist,

Of a rather limp, so to speak, wrist,

The dog and I do live amidst,

A backdrop of being dismissed,

And asked by those that rule to cease and desist…

Like, we do, to exist within the precepts of Nature,

Instead it seems we are seen as preternatural,

Yes we seemed to have surpassed the ordinary,

Though we are or so we thought not without affability…

Is not philosophy the bane of mans existence?

It seems to subsist with little resistance,

So far away from the thought at hand, such a great distance,

Try hard as we may, we struggle on with all due persistence,

And so it seems we do so with very little outside assistance…

          © ed ~ 4/26/05