With Buddha Poem by Abdul Wahab

I was with Gautama Buddha
Sitting side by side under a tree
I was upon a velvety cushion
And he on a piece of stone
Each one's legs were crossed
Heads up, spine straight right
He was in deep meditation
And I engrossed in writing
He wanted to be enlightened
Whereas I a small, petty poet

What he got I do not know
But I could not write a poem
Instead I kept myself busy killing
My buttocks got swollen much
With the bites and poison-blood
My hands became crimson red

I was tired and what a waste
Energy and attention all gone
Finish killing these sons of swine
Really a tough job and not a fun
Yet I kept killing and killing
Until I saw the gang of devils' end

They sucked my fresh blood
Spoiled my calm and peace
By force tried to steal my place
In a manner no humanity no grace

Once upon a time I used to think
Devils are there but they are few
Evil is Shylock and many a Jew
And I called them roughs and thugs
Now I call them lousy bugs.