Laughing Buddha - Posu the Positive
by Harvinder Kaur
Posu, the positive-thinking ostrich, let out a yawn,
“Ah! Sweet Mother Earth rises to a new dawn!”
“Let’s see what we can do for breakfast today.
But first, together we’ll kneel to pray.”
And so I did kneel with my lanky friend,
Not quite sure how our day will end.
“Posu, is there nothing left in your trunk?
Must we again look in the garbage dump?”
“These are tough times so rise and shine,
Even in dumps, the faithful can see the Divine.”
“But why don’t we protest this area’s decay?
There must be a voice in the land we stay!”
“Don’t become a negative, dark, protesting force!
Everything has a time and will follow its course.”
I nodded to Posu my friend, mentor and teacher,
He was such a gentle soul, a dear humble creature!
“Posu, you know, once the Penguins tried to clear it all.
They worked through spring, summer, winter and fall.”
“But the ’Twisters' kept throwing more,
Finally the tired Penguins gave up the shore!
“This is why I say, never give up smiling,
It doesn’t matter how much junk’s piling.”
“But how can you get something from nothing?
If there are no fish, why go fishing?”
“They’ll appear, you just keep throwing the line,
Manifestation happens at its own sweet time.”
“If the ‘mafia’ keeps dumping with such haste,
What can survive in such filth and waste?”
Posu gave me what came nearest to a dirty look,
There was no room for such thoughts in his book!
The positivity team would clean a heap or two,
For the rest they’d pray for the Lord to do.
I often wondered if they were simply afraid,
The ‘twister mafia’ was after all, a hell of a spade!
“It doesn’t help to be negative, critical and blunt.”
Oh! What was that? Did I hear a pig grunt?
Black and grey, pink and red, rushing they all came,
Animal farm’s grunting leaders were at their game!
Posu’s team prayed and meditated, smiled and sang,
More garbage was strewn by the ‘Twister gang’.
I left, hoping for greener pastures and cleaner climes,
Places you could try checking some 'Twister' crimes!
I’ve heard that Posu is now plagued with gout,
Sometimes, he buries his head and begins to shout,
But whatever he says sounds gibberish,
It can barely be heard with so much rubbish.
On another far away twisted beach, I pensively sit,
With Positive Posu faded, where’s hope for a realist?
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