Lotus Hill's Gold

I saw gold on top of the hill.

Towering and staring down at me.

The moment I saw it,

I wondered if I could reach it.

I had seen the statues before,

Standing nearby a pagoda,

Yet I could never get that far.

Today I was in luck.

There were steps leading to the statue,

Like skin attached,

Bridging the gap

From two marauding tattoos.

I drank the first bamboo juice of my life,

Turned towards the stairs that ascended,

Like one living a long life.

At the top, I was panting,

My heart was beating,

Fast enough to end my own life.

I breathed in and out,

Calmed my nerves,

Then turned towards the statue.

It stood still,

No panic or gasping breaths,

But a towering figure in deep rest,

As if it had been there for eternity,

As if it hadn’t moved for eternity.

Lotus Lily Pads

I can smell the fresh water,

Nothing fresh about it.

It is natural,

As natural as manure,

From a galloping mare,

From a mooing meaty caboose.

There floats on the top of the water,

Much more pleasurable and natural scenery.

A lily pad,

I never met a bad Lilly,

Whether a girl or a lad.

A home for turtles,

A refuge for fish,

A perfect object,

For a photo.

As the snap sounds,

Coming from my camera’s lens,

I can’t stop myself from wondering,

About my next sense.

What does a lily pad taste like?

Could it be why the turtle and fish,

Don’t eat or quarrel?

Or is it that resting is better than appetite?

Is being safe better than lily marmalade?

A question that cannot be answered today,

Unless I want to test it,

Probably get arrested,

By the local Lotus Hill authorities,

Who appear to be coming this way.