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Honeys, I’m Home!

[to be read or sung imagining that 

each word might mean something]

Did anyone hear that?  It’s not so much
that it was the deepest dip my psyche
has ever taken, nor that I felt suddenly
as if I’d been had—and in such a way that

there’d be no more had left to have (all
of my have being so thoroughly, severely
and singularly had)—which would be a bad
enough sensation to endure without the

act of opening one’s dry, tomorrow-less
eyes to the world that’s so swiftly disap
pearing, at which I’ve given nothing worth

while, never, not ever, not even in the least,

most certainly nothing to which any of the 

remaining inhabitants would want to cling, 

might they even have (had) the ability to 

fill an ungodly sandwich neatly with a bit

of what of me remains, a smidgeon of tough
purple sinew that, once eaten, has the bells
of the cathedral clapping so happily that an
entire countryside awakens, filled with the

steam and the stink of a passionate and
enduring swarm of quivering earthquakes, 

metaphorical bellies each and all, aquiver 

in their attempts to fill the chin to chop 

once-livered soul of a life lived ever dully
and with neon representations of what within
my last thoughts (they exist!) were of what 

the world needs now.  surely not something 

somebody dug up to smugly and mind-

erasingly protect the liberties of an already 

forgotten tender-bun to unschool us all 

with what nobody’d ever have known were

the nag-didactic foreshortened swipes of
forgetfulness.  at this point several drown, 

beings agape at such melodramatic spectacle. 

each of these winter-watered souls now real deal

gone, soupy human dinner sans dessert for the 

deep blue highway’s top-heavy bottom-dwellers, 

who’ve managed to evolve enough to belch any

remaining reminder of such talentless taste-free

fricasee, which are forgotten before being gone a 

mere minute or two by earth’s entire slew.  No

body’s last day’s for naught?  For whom, you say?  

Those gone so fast I’d forgotten to say. [Now

sounding a bit smitten] But isn’t everybody’s

everything gone?   I’m so damned sorry that I 

vanished, say the slither-slimed paper planes, 

those voiceless anti-legacies.  Whilst the motion 

of this ocean pays tribute to nonexistence by 

chewing up a charcoaled chicken leg so deep-sea

out of sight that it’s henceforth totally out of mind.  

What happens next?  Well, just imagine a fleet 

of chameloenesque lizards running like hell to catch

up with any of that tremendous yet unaccounted

for loss, but directly before their big boss (that 

conglomerate of lizard-head) dismisses them one 

and all for the remains of the weekend.  (Each poor dotty

puff of scaly slough knowing they’ll be let go at the

shittiest minute of the wee-est hour of a miraculously 

unmemorable and yet imminently up and coming Monday.)

                                    Who Was It Sung That So Sincerely?

((It Was Merely Me.))