I was warned giraffes like to give headbutts.
I told the man, "You must be nuts!
Even if true, my head 's far too low."
"That's why we built a tower, now up you go!"
Giraffe Headbutts [Lyric Poem]
Reply
They shut me up in Prose --
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet --
Because they liked me "still" --
Still! Could themself have peeped --
And seen my Brain -- go round --
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason -- in the Pound --
Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Look down opon Captivity --
And laugh -- No more have I --
At the beginning there was a huge drop of milk.
Then Doondari came and he created the stone.
Then the stone created iron;
And iron created fire;
And fire created water;
And water created air.
Then Doondari descended the second time.
And he took the five elements
And he shaped them into man.
But man was proud.
Then Doondari created blindness,
and blindness defeated man.
But when blindness became too proud,
Doondari created sleep,
and sleep defeated blindness;
But when sleep became too proud,
Doondari created worry,
and worry defeated sleep;
But when worry became too proud,
Doondari created death,
and death defeated worry.
But then death became too proud,
Doondari descended for the third time,
And he came as Gueno, the eternal one.
And Gueno defeated death.
NOTE: The Fulani (also known as Fula and Fulbe) are a West African herding tribe that live in Mali, Niger, Nigeria, Guinea, and Senegal.
I'm happy to be a free Yogi,
growing evermore into inner happiness.
I can have sex with many women
as it helps them find the path of liberation.
Outwardly I'm a fool
and inwardly I live a clear spiritual path.
Outwardly I enjoy wine and women
and inwardly I work for the benefit of all beings.
Outwardly I live for my pleasure
and inwardly I do everything in the right moment.
Outwardly I'm a ragged beggar
and inwardly a blissful Buddha.

water parts,
rounding a boulder,
then is reunited.
Zenith
These griefs
These gardens on and on
Where the toad croons a tender cry skyblue
The hind of silence startled races by
The nightingale that love has bruised sings in
Your body's bush on which I've picked each rose
Our hearts hang from the same pomegranate bough
And in our gaze pomegranate blossoms blow
That falling one by one have strewn the road
Translator: Harry Duncan