ThingumBobaEsqe
Member
I have a gun.
I don't have
to suffer
this depression.
Suicide is illegal.
I've usually
obeyed the law.
Well, put my corpse
in a cell.
I made myself
laugh, a little.
Good for me.
I can visualize
my own funeral--
an eighteen gun
salute because one
dropped his gun
in the mud.
That's better
than none.
I'm still not dead.
My carefully folded
flag shows the
insulting red.
The front-end
loader is the
guest of honor.
It has it's own
morbid salute.
It's rusted bucket-
teeth raised high
used to be
a lovely orange-
yellow before
it cannabalized the
cold hard ground.
The gutteral
motor has it's own
sweet scriptural sound--
an oiled-up dirge,
and a creaky requiem
pleasing those
with long ears.
I'm dragged for
a twenty foot
procession by my
wonderful pets
with little yellow
bows around their
uncomfortable necks.
They drag me in
The hole and kick
In a little dirt
With their hind legs.
The weight
of earth is a
welcome blanket
I'll never sleep
so good at home.
I don't have
to suffer
this depression.
Suicide is illegal.
I've usually
obeyed the law.
Well, put my corpse
in a cell.
I made myself
laugh, a little.
Good for me.
I can visualize
my own funeral--
an eighteen gun
salute because one
dropped his gun
in the mud.
That's better
than none.
I'm still not dead.
My carefully folded
flag shows the
insulting red.
The front-end
loader is the
guest of honor.
It has it's own
morbid salute.
It's rusted bucket-
teeth raised high
used to be
a lovely orange-
yellow before
it cannabalized the
cold hard ground.
The gutteral
motor has it's own
sweet scriptural sound--
an oiled-up dirge,
and a creaky requiem
pleasing those
with long ears.
I'm dragged for
a twenty foot
procession by my
wonderful pets
with little yellow
bows around their
uncomfortable necks.
They drag me in
The hole and kick
In a little dirt
With their hind legs.
The weight
of earth is a
welcome blanket
I'll never sleep
so good at home.