in a world upsidedown,
where a smile is a frown,
the least of the votes
gets to lead by default.

the voter must ask
who's the worst of the last,
and give an X
on the hated the most.

the one that wins
is the one that sings
the quietest song of all.

the inner peace of the heart,
where compassion finds art,
and the kindest of words are heard.

the arm that reaches
past the beaches,
will never let anyone drown.

the wisest voice of all
speaks the quietness by far,
the one we should be listening to now.

in the deepest of minds
resides the wisdom designed
in taking care of everyone else.

in this exalted of peace,
the unity of bliss
and the wisdom that Buddha tells,

gives visions of release,
truths of imprisoned belief
in our delusions above anything else.

collections of parts
collecting more halves,
dividing down spiralling hell.

samsara was said
rebirth without redress,
uncontrolled by nobody else.

be more than ordinary,
take care like it's yesterday,
tomorrow's another day,
moments in life just a cliché.

be without influence,
unless you're pre-eminent
in being the happiest
beyond anything else.

call out to the highest,
come reckon with truth please,
I'm nobody special,
but I fear
you've been bought by the devil,
and your coffin will really smell.

confessions of nobody special