it's so strange to be a
PERSON...
to suddenly zzzzzzip back
from the nightly sojourn
to awaken and
allow it to dawn
that you're back to feeding this drama
the trauma
of CHOOSE at every turn
no way to win with those kinds of odds
so go ahead and make
mistake number three
cuz you're really just here to
accumulate karma
now what kind of dharma is that?
Goin' apeshit batshit ratshit
at the prospect of writing the next line
knowing it signifies nothing
but still gives you something
to read
as you sip your Corona
on the beach at Pomona
that tenuous hold
on all of your gold
to stand there and stare
pretending to care
playing the game
just for shits and grins
knowing nobody wins
banking on Nietzsche being full of it
with his eternal recurrence
(like all philosophers, he was in his head way too much)
yet considering the possibility
ruminating
if all of the highs
(of which there were many)
would be worth all the lows
(of which there were plenty)
to come back, Jack
and do it again
making your grand re-entrance
with a HEY BEETCHES...WHASSUP?
but if you really gonna heed that guy
then you know ya gotta try
to make every day
the best it can be, though
kinda hard when you're walking through the woods
in the dead of winter
and having to whiz
and discovering that you've put
your long johns on backwards
with an opening in the front
but none in the rear
which is now reversed...
OH DEAR!
It's so strange to be a person
fresh from the slide
off a magic carpet ride
feeling trapped here inside
once again
now you've been zipped
your wings have been clipped
you soul has been stripped
so strange to be a person
this creature
this thing
fiddling with your ding-a-ling
hoping it will bring
some solace from it all
and it's so strange to be a
person
when you've seen beyond the pale
when you've poked through the crack
in the cosmic egg
grasping at last
that it's no longer a matter of
when will you leave
but of how much longer
will you keep coming back
