On wobbly steps walks in our Lama like a swing,

Toes still aching from being kissed all night by Richard Gere;

Cracked upon his eyelid bleary and fumy,

A lost paradise Tibet used to be he tells the West a story.

Oh Lama you sure miss your Palace of Potala

Where your holiness consummated through 48 girls’ vagina

Not that we don’t pity on the shabbiness of your Dharmsāla

It’s just better off you stay there until your Nirvana.

Losing the fun of scalping men on a whimsical day?

His lost does have our deepest sympathy.

But mainly coz his elongated face an’t any prettier than that of a donkey

A buffer zone we decided to create for the Tibetan virgins’ safety.

The wine set of human skull he can keep to his own,

Along with the drum made by human skin in his bedroom;

As long as they don’t bother his aged soul,

What do we care which infernal level he makes his next home.

Oh Lama you sure look like a woman abandoned,

When Chairman Mao held hands with the lad called Panchen.

A bitter loser of a triangle relation,

You fled India to bury your love never said open.

“Am I not as pretty as that lad?

Am I not senior than that dude?

Who the hell does he think he is?

That to my dear Chairman’s hands dare he hold!”

Yet to the Chairman he can not complain,

Toss and turn he grabbed his pen;

“Like a mother you protect the Tibetans,

You are the merciful Budda’s reincarnation.

“You bring the world serendipity!

May you live in longevity!

Please accept this humble eulogy!”

Said the monk in his deepest sincerity.

What a shame he is mere a Nobel Laurel,

He should have won the prize of the best flip-floper.

One morning he wanted to be a Party member,

Next thing we know he hovered over the Indo-Chinese border.

Oh Lama you sure forget your job as an ordained Bhiksu,

Never seen you hit a sutra or a book;

Your English is of that of a malfunctioned robot,

Will you stop droning the wisdom of an idiot?

Touring the world he talked about Martin Luther King

Human rights to be restored under his Buddhist monarchy.

God knows why a bodhisattva fancies democracy,

In his perplexed mind that must be equal to slavery.

“Thousands of people kowtow to me everyday!

I own Tibet church and state!

Who says men are created free?

Come and look at our beautiful slave society!”

People say he’s against wearing fur,

Go to his palace and take a tour.

Careful your skull might be turned into his jar.

He an’t vegetarian that’s for sure.