LIFE
boils down to a gross waste
of time
nothing about it suggests the sublime
not poetry, painting, sculpture — “THE
ARTS” —
not “thinking” nor science not having sweethearts
physical folk find fulfillment in sports
when not busy pillaging with their cohorts
many are pigeons for nonsense
religions
encouraging gullibles' stupid decisions
on what they can do on what they can
eat
on who they must trust on who they can cheat
on whether life's one-shot or it's reusable
no one acknowledges it is inexcusable
some I'm told even hold it is recusable
it may be a comedy but it is not a musical
STILL
we persist in this curious biz
we resist admitting it is what it is
pursuing relentlessly whatever buzz
we can acquire if only because
LIFE keeps making LIFE
that is all it does
ERGO
like Beckett's Vladimir
and Estragon
we bewail our fate
and we “go on”
ERGO
like Beckett's Vladimir
and Estragon
we bewail our fate
and we “go on”
