scratching my inscriptions on the dark dungeon walls


Digger O’Dell’s Curtain Call


Moments of lucidity
pepper the lukewarm gruel in my brainpan.
Things in my vicinity
blur as the inverse square of their distance.
Lurings of libidity
slide into heaps that evoke only reminiscence.
Comforts of humility
gurgle in my throat – I know just where I stand.


Target the shrinkwrap.
Note its superior shrouding.
Corpse for sale cheap!
(All done with his carousing.)


It’s only a stage show folks, don’t be surprised.
Ha ha! Got the one-up on you, didn’t I.
Tomorrow I’ll play a handsome lad of twenty!
Who knows how many me’s, there’s plenty.
Bag of tricks, pick up sticks, cast the chinky ching,
climb the mountain, no more pouting, that’s the thing!
Each one born lives a life and finally dies
’til another part to play, and truth to realize.


“Well, I’ve got to be shoveling along.”

 

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