[UnbornBuddha]

Children gather around, let me tell you something
What I’m about to give you is a hellish substance
News that entails destruction, but don’t be afraid.
Ask me anything, and I’ll try to convey an array
Of replies, but frankly I’m not sure it’ll delay the pain.
Remember (sings) “I love you, you love me
We’ll {die} a happy family”, albeit sullied.

Timmy:
I know you’re just a man under that costume
But, I don’t get the point of suffering’s value
Why must we cover our wounds with sulfur-like solutes?
Before leaving, my father left me a cryptic letter
That said: “Son, I hope you never live for pleasure”.
Please tell me, the meaning of all this!
My life has been but jumbled pieces of abyss.

You’re asking me to impart a thesis to a kid
But I, a nihilist, neither have a reason to exist
I personify the samsara in the Buddha’s conscious;
Being content with the contents of life is an elusive concept
That defies the entire process of our collective human logic.
Timmy, it is likely your father abused narcotics
And like all other self-wallowing drug addicts,
He chose to impart to you a last bit of compassion,
A thought fragment meant to be engraved.
So you’ll be the change, he hoped he was.
Yet, despite his good wishes (pauses)
…I’m afraid there’s no hope for us.

Natasha:
I’m afraid I’ll never get to kiss a boy
Or be given primordial organic joy,
In which the depth of my organism is destroyed
By means of spiritual coitus with a crazy lover!
I’m also concerned about my baby brother
He was born with his retinas detached
Will his blind eyes be able to see the heavenly lands?
Lost… who will rescue him, a predator perhaps?
I mentally lack the capacity to appreciate destiny’s wrath
In science class,
I learned when we’re in pain our brain chemically snaps;
Flooding our body with endorphins, until its intensity stops
But, the pain always comes back with its complexity upped.
My essence is in shock knowing we’re helplessly caught
In a distressing plot comprised of incalculable hurt
Barney,
I don’t know how I’ll stand the unfathomable burns.


Little girl, don’t feel bad this entire world is an existential trap
Instead of getting caught in the minutia of exponential math
And the differential gaps that come from this line of thinking
Indulge in the realization that our finite minds can listen
To the sounds of this world that can only be described as living.
As for your desire to experience spiritual ecstasy,
It is a miracle of miracles,
That allows women to undergo physical pregnancy
So as to produce mortal entities, like yourself.
I can embrace you if you really want to be held
Show you the entirety- the body of a man can reveal.
Honestly, though, there is a disgusting smell
A pheromone river that riddles what such touch entails.
As for your brother’s visceral tale,
He’ll be released from his miserable shell;
Freed, to swim aimlessly in oblivion’s well.

As to you all:
I won’t comfort any of you with religious dribble
All I can say is if there is an afterlife where spirits linger
Be sure to give whoever in charge there the middle finger!
And it’s a big if,
But if it’s true do remember having a spirit stripped us
Of living in bliss.
Natasha, it crippled your brother, and may have even killed us.
(As the bomb hits, Barney tightly grips the children
Singing a twisted take on I love you,
Performing a rendition of it that was never scripted)