by Candice Borg

Buddha weeps for us-
     his doctrine has failed.

Violence and
hate and
petty squabbles
tear apart
our global community.

We feed off each other.
The meek are trampled-
the crunch of their bones
fills the strong
with a feeling of

Buddha weeps for us-
he cannot help us now.

The error
     of our ways
cannot be corrected.
Wrong turn,
long ago
and now
our vehicle of destruction
cannot be stopped.

     Simple words...
But with meanings
with such implications
I dare not utter.

In our changing world
the Great One's
falls on deaf ears.

We turn to lies
to feed our desperate hunger
for patriotism.
We turn to our leaders-
     those ravenous hypocrites-
for our daily dose
of the most self destructing
That of hate.

Suicide bombers.
Nuclear missiles.
Press releases.
Hand in hand.

No one is spared
from the misery
of our reality.

Our changing world,
our global epidemic,
no longer revolves
     for us.

Our changing world
revolves only
for the plague
that is the condemnation of
the civilisations of this world.

Homosapians do not exist.
Human categories
are alone determined
by weapons of mass destruction.
This fact
determines this generation's

All but memory
of the way we were.
Genocide outdated,
Human Spirit
the new target.

Have you kept up to speed?
Do you know of the terrorist
over there?
He is holding
a grenade
over your mother's grave.
Or how about
your leader
who is supposed to
her memory?
He only saves himself.

Save face
now important.
Save my people

Buddha weeps.
Do you not hear it?
No, you confuse it
for the wars
     the acid rain     
          the children
with their bloated but empty bellies.

He is screaming in pain
while you accept
the drugs
of a nation's pride.
Don't worry-
it's laced with
chemical warfare
     for easy swallowing.

The plane
you hear
The hate
you feel
The war
you fear
     all spawned from the one source
and you know it.

In our changing world
your greatest fear has
You have walked
into the
Valley of the Shadow of Death.
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
no way out.

Sign up for the army.
Do as you may.
Wear your badges
with your remnants
of pride.
as you march your march
that your grandfather marched too.
Remember his stories
of an era
you ignored?
Stories are all that's left
of a world
once forgiving.

Buddha weeps-
you will never be
a grandfather.
You will never hold
in the palm of your hand
a world
worth clasping.

You will never
a child
that calls
you father.
If your heart is not
by the truth
of your world
then it will be the chemicals
you used
     against your foe
that will rob you of your children.

Do not fear.
Buddha does not blame
He cries not
     at this.
You have finally
given him

You cannot
subject anymore
to the torment
you alone created.

In our changing world
you shot the first shot.
can you hear it echo?

Story Page back to the Short Story Page.

In Our Changing World, 2 April 2003