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There’s a middle-aged mother who’s said to be frisky
She knows that the quest for true wisdom is risky
But rather than scripture
She holds an elixir
A cocktail of hormones and breast milk and whiskey
It may help to know that this is based on a true story, as many of my limericks are
In stillness the senses grow pleasant
With inner abundance no peasant
The coin of the realm
He receives from the elm
And spends every ounce in the present
Like an onion whose layers have lifted
The Self with sharp vision and gifted
Is shedding its skin
To expose what’s within
It’s consciousness pure and unscripted
When ego gets hold of your mind
Then the notion of self is confined
To a tight narrow cell
And forgotten how well
Every sentient thing is entwined
The progress is slow but perpetual
Impassioned as well as habitual
Avoid second guessing
To honor the blessing
And live every day like a ritual
Regardless of what one believes
The universe waxes and breathes
While ebbing and flowing
And always unknowing
The Tao, without purpose, achieves
metaphysical limericks for the post-modern era
There’s a force with a name known by none
It’s referred to by some as the one
And it can’t be dismantled
Nor spoken or handled
But through it all things will be done
When you look to the truth as your task
Then you may find it’s too much to ask
To go searching inside
Where the monsters all hide
Underneath your most virtuous mask
Discover the medicine maybe abuse it
The day could arrive when you choose to refuse it
Live it and breathe it
Or take it or leave it
With patience and time you can learn how to use it
In many of my less whimsical limericks, like this one, I extend lines 1, 2, and 5 to include 4 accented syllables instead of the conventional 3 (12 syllables instead of 9, more or less). Always just 2 accented syllables in lines 3 and 4.
The whale is a fish and a mammal in one
As white has all colors and also has none
               The grandest of creatures
               With paradox features
Unknown and untouched by the light of the sun
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