The Unlikely Buddha

  In swirling dark, the iris weeps, Reflecting souls where torment sleeps. No solace found, no comfort nears, Just endless tears and chilling fears. Black pupil, mirror to despair, Where whispered screams hang heavy in the air. Each sight a wound, a memory's sting, Of shattered lives, where joy takes wing. We witness pain, a brutal art, Etched on bone, carved deep in heart. The echo lingers, long and cold, A story told, yet never told. No light escapes this haunted well, Where shadows dance and secrets dwell. We bear the scars, the unseen weight, Of what we see, of what we hate. So let us tread, with careful stride, Through landscapes etched where darkness hides. For in the depths, where shadows bloom, We glimpse the truth, in painful gloom. Unlikely Buddha 2024

Picture this: a vast desert landscape, dotted with towering cacti and sun-baked rocks. This is Arizona, a land where the sun beats down and even the scorpions wear cowboy boots. And among its most iconic residents are the rattlesnakes – living maracas of menace, slithering symbols of the wild west. Now, before you imagine yourself chowing down on "chicken-fried rattlesnake," let me assure you, it's more of a novelty dish than a gourmet delight. Think of it as the culinary equivalent of a yodeling contest at a taxidermist convention – more texture than taste, with a distinct "did I just swallow a tiny maraca?" aftertaste. But the true absurdity lies in how humans interact with these scaly neighbors. Imagine someone claiming their faith protects them from rattlesnake bites, basically waltzing into a box full of them like they're auditioning for a particularly dangerous reality show. Spoiler alert: sometimes, Darwin wins. Then there are the "Miss Teen ...