Life

I feel what's perhaps a protrusion

A strangely bizarre rude intrusion

From bottom to top of my spine

As an effect of my Zen

I know not who what or when

But something is happening inside

From all the way down 

To the top of my crown

Not stopping for heart lung or feces

This sensation of goosing 

I must say is producing

Some bumps of the very same species

Avoiding a render

I suppose I'll surrender

To this power much greater than I

Second person sadistic

Or first masochistic

This feeling's so good I could die

As I guess is entailed 

I'm now fully impaled

Expanded surrendered and blissed

Now all of the time

I speak only in rhymes

Of the sweeter than honey

That's this

Originally penned n 1989