Life’s A Crock of Shit

I imagine meeting Kurt Vonnegut on his death bed
I had written an idea about a short story
One that would make him smile on this ruined planet
For a few moments anyway,
While he slipped out into the Milky Way
Somehow, he knew me intimately,
As though he had been with me all along
He basically told me that,
As far as he could see,
My life was definitely not worth living
No doubt about it

Kurt told me that he knows that I only stick around
Due to my chimpanzee-like tendencies
That make me receptive to smiles and tears
Being addressed as Brother Michael and so on
He said I make up one small but stubborn link
In the web of life that shall rest in some “clambake in the sky”
Where we will become food of the gods

Hesse echoed in the chemicals firing away in the dying man’s brain
“Life is just enough time for a quick joke!”
What kind of a sick sense of humor does a creator of such a world have?
Schopenhauer’s Holy Ghost crashes into the room and gives a speech
It’s about how sleep is a little death, and what a blessing both are

The Great Mystery lives in our Robin Hoods and our John Browns
And while Our Mother Earth responds to the poisons and crises
Of human populations, we bow to Her thunderous strength
And prepare for the Great Purification
As we surrender to Her Higher Laws
Our dilemma is Her dilemma, so to speak
Better to be born into a world without rulers
Without money, taxes, prisons, and asylums

Nietzsche laughs hysterically from the rings of Saturn
Perhaps most of us should not ever have been born,
And we were best left in the Void
Would it be so bad to be eaten alive as a fish?
Rather than be born to die in a hail of bullets?
Or executed for blasphemy?
Or for caring about the untouchables?
Or just for being lowly and despised?

Present systems take full advantage of psychological warfare
They send in the mind parasites to warp and rearrange
To break the human spirit down to a starving schizophrenic chimpanzee

Today in a welfare room,
I heard a mouse in a box
So I pulled it out real quick to catch the mouse
In the act of defecating in my rice

I couldn’t find him but I saw the crock of shit that he was
From the trail of tiny mouse turds
When I put the box back I noticed the mouse dead on the floor
He or she had been crushed by the weight and force of gravity

Looking at that poor mouse with its eyes popping out of its face
I thought that perhaps I am as creepy as it is

We are mice who sneeze and eat welfare cheese
Mice with their hands out for your change
Begging please, please, please
How about a slice of holy cow with this can of peas?
The earth is infested with men
I wonder when a big box is going to fall on us
Any day now, any day …

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