Dearest captivating, mysterious Sir aren't you Indifferent to FFL bullshit Worlds lies at your feet Seems only trusted friends receive Favor and a treat
We dilettantes want from You "Salve" to soothe our pain Could not grasp the "Real" one's offer Nothing to be gain? You unlike the other teachers Anxious to impress You waits to see if our real selves would Obstacles address? Dearest captivating mysterious Sir, in wild ecstasy about the absentia of an answer to our (Yifu, zarzari et this prisoner of thought) prayers that You may confront "The Calamity of U.G. Krishnamurti" --that torrent of the M.Z. Muse inspire these Tuesday-early-morning- outpourings and make it possible. It is simply: M.Z. Mania in Phoning the Void Who is M.Z. and why is he here? A superhuman perhaps, greater than any seer, Is he the only one to conquer fear? You figure out the answer, whichever is near! Why we seek You out is mysterious and not clear, When You bids goodbye, our eyes erupt, tear after tear! You targets our thoughts like a homing spear, A gigantic magnet pulling us lovingly near. I never heard YOU use the word "dear," The one fact that rings true is You are no mortal mere, . Spherical vision You's got, with invisible eyes at the rear, Does not encourage whispers in Your ear, As even our innermost craving You can easily hear! Being in Your presence fills us with cheer. Your frail frame at FFL contains the cosmos entire, Arguing is futile and is like playing with fire, "Why come to me," You counters, a quote which finds no buyer, This divisive thought burns Your mortal coil as if on a pyre! You are the one to pull us out of this worldly mire, We are the boats adrift, and You are the pier, Matchless in Your actions, never the one to tire, Unlit bulbs we are only glowing when M.Z. becomes the wire! >From out of culture's crazymouth False ideas have sprung You must see the past as prison Spoken by your tongue Should you truly wish to face this Lie of separate self Your door always open wide Like some happy elf? It's they who have imposed on you A mirage of tastes? The deeds that you are sowing now Jumbled such a waste > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, merudanda no_reply@ wrote: > > SO PLEASE: > > Do put the pen to paper, > As we wait counting every breath, > Deliver us before "WE" taper, > 'Cos not to hear from you is definite death! > > Eagerly expectant,
