Archive
07/19/12
Our Last Supper
When I set aside an inadequate squander of time, To ponder how the vermiculate days I've spent have spent me, How I've scuttled my most ambitious decisions and productive energies, By trying to solve life's inscrutable quandaries, Mouthed by the Sphinx, Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, Paracelsus, Pontius Pilate, Tycho Brahe, Plotinus, Flavius Josephus, Scrooge McDuck, Dubya, L. Ron Hubbard, Rush Limbaugh, Adolf Hitler, the Wizard of Ozymandias, Dr. Seussayer, Thomas Sutpen, Mortimer Snerd, Shemp Howard, Howard Stern, Not to mention an entire black hole of additional Untermenschen Who purportedly, assumably, allegedly bequeathed mankind Artistic, medical, political, historical, theological, and philosophical wisdom So scintillatingly stimulating emotionally, intellectually, viscerally . . .
When I meditate on how I've failed to resolve life's annelidan conundrums, I break out in dry heaves, hives, lice, night jakes, poison ivy, Rust blight, pustules, cold sweats, warts, wens, shingles, the bends, Carbuncles, tumors, buboes, boils, scabies, rabies, and black acne, On recognizing how colossal has been the impossibility Of my investigations into the meaning of existence, Since no one who's ever struggled before me, Along the trajectory stretching between Creation and two seconds ago, Has discovered the slightest, least, meagerest, mealiest evidence That man stands so much as half a maggot's-ass chance for enlightenment, Due to the perfidies, mendacities, lecheries, felonies, fuckups He's committed in the name of God's Adam, Abraham, David, Jesus, Plato, Dante, Copernicus, Michelangelo, Shakespeare, Freud, Einstein.
And so it is, this first twilight of my last impermanent eternity, That I confess my inestimable ineptitude, my absolute inability To conclude whatever task I was to ask of myself, at birth. But as my gasping breaths precede death, by nano-eons, I think I see, finally, that we come and we go, so fast and so slow, We this and we that, we say-so and we so-so, we piss and we shit, We curse and, worse, we disturb the universe, with our hearse, As we ride at the trunk-to-tail end of the great elephant lurch That opens and closes the Greatest Circus on Earth's Surface. And when the clowns have shoveled the droppings into our pockets, We pick up our tent stakes, pack up our leaky-tub grubstakes, And seek out the worms with whom we'll share our last supper — Hair, eyes, skin, organs, blood, bones, mind, spirit, and soul.
07/19/12
|
|||
|
|||
