Playing Apocalypse

In an atmosphere dimly lit
at a wobbly
three legged table
we collectively get at it

Playing the game of Anarchy
where the poorly crafted
abstract rules
are changed daily
by the deranged game master
we never see

The only goal
of this nihilistic contest
is to fortify your piece
so it survives
when the arm of Destiny
drops down
at a random time of it’s choosing
and sweeps the players off the board

For you see in the end
my scattered all over the floor friends

Winning is the art of not losing

A Plea For Hedonism

The Coalition of the Silly
has issued the following decree
written on the back
of a used
no longer sanitary napkin

Not meant to be taken seriously
like everything else seems to be
these dwindling grim days

“Bibo ergo sum”

Translated from the Latin
my inebriated friends

“I drink therefore I am”

This of course flows
as the logical corollary
from the more celebrated
Latin phrase “Carpe Diem”
dropped by modern
quasi philosophers
forever seizing the night
looking to get laid
by impressed lassies
desperately seeking intellect

Yes my dying friends

Moderation be damned

Pour another round of cheer

A toast
for all the wasted pilgrims
assembled here

As we collectively
curse last call inevitability
and the blasted hangover attached
for we foolish courageous souls
who dare live life to the max

One last
pro hedonism rationalization
rhyme bromide
to be spilled applied
before the bored bouncer
throws me out of here

Grab that frickin brass ring
before the bell tolls for thee

Gotta go

Dumb Dee Dump Dump

Once I’ve reached
my expiration date
and am no longer
a serviceable commodity

Cram my spent ass
into a big black Hefty bag

The extra stretchy
industrial kind
with the drawstrings
to be tied and sealed

Or two perhaps
for support reinforcement
as we don’t want
my already decaying bodily parts
sticking out
and scaring the neighbors

Drag my remains out to the curb
or if my weight is too extreme
to haul comfortably
use my old little red wagon
to transport my remains
for the curbside pickup brigade

Maybe I can be recycled
or used for fertilizer

Perhaps
the scavengers
can mine my bones
for raw materials

I won’t be offended
if my carcass is thrown out this way

Because I’ll be very dead

Which as we all know
is a much
bigger problem

Loony Bin There

The off kilter man
they say I am
after many a test
and extensive observation
produced a diagnosis
that this patient
is neurodivergent

Don’t call me broken
like they did
in less enlightened times

Label me as different
which should not be a crime
but since they’ve locked me away
I guess it is today

So here I sit
shackled and chained
in a dark place
soaked in my own urine
waiting patiently
for the world to rotate
back my way

Only then will I be free
and given the opportunity
to repay my oppressors

What a glorious day that will be
for all of us currently
carrying the stigma
of being tagged as crazy
by this insane world

Low Infidelity

Sex with his wife
has become purely robotic

More work than pleasure

Even her seductive
carnal skills once so prolific
have become rote

I pleaded with my friend
to take his pissy spouse back
but he refused
saying we had a conjugal
surrogate contract
which I had vowed to honor
for better or worse

Labor Pain

Hi Ho

Hi Ho

It’s off
to gainful employment we go

We trudge in

Punch in

The clock hits back

Years accumulate

Deeper we slide
into the cubicle pit
of corporate irrelevancy

That sinking truth
we masters of denial
slap on to apply
like a tourniquet
to stem the flow of self doubt

Weighed down daily
by maddening
process inefficiencies

Errors saturate our reality
but the salary they pay
to our accounts semi monthly
still rules the day
buying off our loyalty
and degraded pride
for a bargain price

Keep The Faith

Believe it or not
I walked on water
back in the day
when I was an acclaimed
bonafide miracle man

Just one of my many exploits
celebrated far and wide
as proof positive
of the power of faith
and infinite possibilities

Maybe you have heard
of my legend
passed down through generations
increasingly desperate
for any kind of inspiration

Of course
that was way before
science advised me
and my congregation
that my very existence
was a quantified impossibility

So the world plunged
into it’s current abyss
of negative secular reality

Begetting a grim restless population
chafing at their assigned
slotted limitations

But no matter
how the skeptics
and naysayers
have chosen to dismiss me
I reside in the collective souls
of those who won’t be opinion bullied

Far beyond the rigid controls
of empirical thought tyranny

They know what I used to be
and more importantly
all that I stood for

Impossible as it may seem today

Those who dare remember
know my improbable truth
before I was consigned
to the status of foolish myth

Faith is an equation
that can’t be erased
or summarily dismissed

Gulping Up

There exists in this existence
two distinct
consumer types
in the common quest
for human sustenance

Those who sensibly sip
to savor every taste
for maximum satisfaction
of the discerning palate

These smug denizens
of discriminating propriety
perpetually analyzing
the foamy quality
of their favorite mocha lattes

On the other end
of the consumption spectrum
are the blue collar
ravenous gulpers
seemingly in a race
to get to the end of it

I must confess
you will find me on Team Gulp

We who roll with indigestion
as penance for our impatience
will belch
in your condescending face
if you dare lecture us
about our impetuous
life choices

Paste Out of Tube

At the end of this life sentence
it makes no difference
if you were a patriot or dissident

The page will be turned
on you and your disposable kind
as the godless guardians
of chaos opinion
let in the fresh edition
to do battle down in the pit
for the gladiator carnage
and mass entertainment
of the spectator legions
who don’t give a shit
about the anonymous
spent deflection fodder
who served their purpose

Looping Stupidity

When one studies
the torn tapestry of history
it’s fairly obvious reality
that time and time again
the tyranny of the majority
and the controlling myth
they always know best
is a recurring theme
which often plants the seeds
of mass tragedy

Strength in numbers
may well be an undeniable force
but when viewed
through the unbiased lens
of retrospection clarity
it is plain to see
that collective might
does not always make right

Remember this historical fact
the next time
one of the bleating sheep crew
tries to shame recruit you
for thinking differently
from the uni thought herd
stampeding toward the cliff