Your karma ran over my dogma,
its ears drooping down to the floor.
There’s utter disgrace on its poor little face
and it won’t wag its tail any more.

Your chakra has shattered my schema,
put spokes in the wheels of my mind.
My categories neat lie in bits at my feet
and my truck’s at the end of the line.

Your dharma has punctured my armour,
Tied knots in what used to be clear.
My virtue’s been stripped, my principles skipped
and my morals have nothing to wear.

Your mantra has muddled my maxims,
it’s left them in tatters and shreds.
Where once I was sure now they all sound obscure
and go grumbling away in my head.

Your mudra manhandled my methods,
made a mess of my marvel routine.
My steps go astray in a risible way
like the cogs of a crazy machine.

Your nirvana has dented my ego,
blown my pride from its overblown throne.
My vanity weeps as my self-image creeps
to lament in a corner alone.