Diminishing Returns

It’s a great day…I don’t have to do anything.

I don’t like to do anything anymore.

Those things are a drag, whatever they are.

When I was young I could do so much more,

plumbing buildings,

acting in plays,

teaching the dharma…I can’t even write poems

much anymore….

never that good, but better before.

It’s like I’m watching the credits for my own movie

scrolling down.

Who stays around in the theatre for those?

My writing now is mostly eulogy: “John Tischer: he tried.”

It never has reached many.

“Meditate, you fuckers!” is what I want to scream

to the world.

The pursuit of happiness is a waste of time.

“A snowflake on a burning stove.”

“No trudging through vast Arabies of hot meaning…

you just numbly don’t get there.” Kerouac

“All is vanity.” Ecclesiastics 

We Buddhists know this.

All we do is try to help the others.

But the others don’t care,

can’t listen,

are too busy,

don’t even want to know.

The only thing Buddhists have going

for themselves is eternity, like

the bumper sticker reads:

“Buddhism…eventually.”