she's no deva of mine
no caterpillar concubine
no cocoon consort
no butterfly  courtesan
she's four tigresses in one
suckling, wandering, denned and leashed
And I'm following the track of them all
She's my white tigress of Nanjing
and though I haven't ever practiced kungfu nor qigong
I have applied to be her jade dragon
Or at least one of her green dragons
In order to help her to reach one of her nine illuminations.
So I fused my qi and ching and  shen
and turned myself into a Knight of the Order of the Porcupine
and offered to gently tatoo with my quills
Her *******
with a motto of invisible yet immortal ink saying :
"Qui s'y frotte s'y pique"
Written phonetically [kisifrotsipik].
I thought because I sat just like a buddha
I was at that moment a buddha
I thought that if I breathed like a green or jade dragon
She'd let me have a bite at her immortality.
No way, my tigress said :
You just can't be and have been

A porcupine doesn't have many friends
Due to the needles that stand up at the ends
No one really cares when a porcupine cries
No one is there to weep when one of us dies
No one ever approaches a hurt, sad porcupine
Can't even attract a drunk with a case of wine
No one wants to get close enough to start to care
No one, for a small porcupine, is ever there
Tears fall down their cute, small needled faces
No one ever pays any attention to their small cases
From place to place, we porcupines wander so slow
There isn't a warm welcome at any place we go
Seems like porcupines just can't please anyone