A Samurai’s Tsunami

Helmet of insect horn

Armour made as hard as ants

Mask crafted by demons

Deep in their seven hells

And a long sword

Restrained within it’s scabbard

Smithed from the smoothest of waters

Calm yet vicious

He releases it

Upon his foes

It’s waves hit enemy after enemy

A relentless tsunami

His dead opponents

Hang from his sword

Adding their weight to it

A ghastly gift

Each wave harder to send

But hitting even stronger

Wanting their blood to mingle

Within its shores

Sometimes when father lets me

Touch his sword

I can hear them all moan in unison

Begging for more blood

The Buddha

Calm, the epitome of calm

Serene, sitting on a seat of flowers

He fights the demons of his mind

With love and careful listening

He makes friends with them

He tricks them into submission

He makes them lose their jobs

Their livelihoods, with subtle persuasion

Their children

Will go begging in the streets

Of his brain

Looking for jobs

While he sits there

On a seat of flowers

Making love with his peace