Tombed

 

I'm outright zoomed,

pretty well doomed;

soon to be tombed

 

I raise my gun,

I've had my fun,

am pretty much done

 

I'm known to goof,

to soar on high, aloof,

but sure ain't bulletproof

 

So I'll see you at that black hole,

the final destination for a mole

who's played out his role

 

Yes, I'm outright zoomed,

pretty well doomed;

soon to be tombed

 

The living is a peculiar bunch,

ain't got the tiniest hunch

from breakfast up to lunch

 

that there is absolutely no way

that they can enjoy themselves and stay

forever rich, alive and gay

 

They ain't got the tools they'd need;

that is a fact to heed,

the only substitute: to breed

 

'cause they're all zoomed

by Death, yes, doomed,

sooner than later to be tombed

 

You can wake up and rise,

toil and exercise,

but men are basically mice,

Ecclesiastes and Bob Dylan are wise;

most truths are really lies;

most words equal the buzzing of flies,

so try being a little nice,

yeah, try that for size,

before your certain destiny: demise

 

because we're all so zoomed

by Charon, yes, goddam doomed,

and you know what; soon tombed

 

 





Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 107 times
Written on 2022-09-08 at 13:31

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