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by Charles Carreon
How's a man to be happy
When the world won't turn the right way?
How can I be happy
When the wind's always in my face?
How can I accept a situation
That so contradicts my will?
The whole universe
insults me
Never asking what I want,
And though I don't get tortured
I still get treated bad,
And if this isn't my worst lifetime
It's the worst one that I've had.
All my wantings
unfulfilled,
No provisioning for my needs --
It's such a tragic oversight
And never remedied.
No time to think of
others
For my sympathies are otherwise occupied
With brooding over every slight
That life has ever dealt me.
This is my inspiration,
and I hold it to my breast,
To look around at all of life
And know what I detest.
Like a demanding Bergdorf
shopper
Or devoted Neiman bargain hunter,
I'll find myself the best of all
This universe provides,
And I'll find it sooner
than all of the saps
That shop in sleazy places,
I'm a discerning Buddhist buyer
Of the wisdom of the ages.
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