Death Scene

It was obvious that the man had been extremely handsome at one time not long ago…images (23)

I’m saying this because my soul is floating above my flu racked, allergy devastated, dying body.

I look from above at myself with sympathy and awe….

I am not embarrassed by the fact that my dying body is not wearing any underwear.

We don’t worry about naked fat men here…..

I know that I have gone thru all 3 pair of tighty whiteys that I owned during the contagious stage of the dreaded illness that has destroyed so much promising talent, sexiness and man-dingoness from the world…..

I cannot fault the Fruit of the Loom people……The underwear were not designed for this type of abuse, being restricted by the laws of physics and thermal dynamics, the drawers are useless in their attempts to thwart the sudden, shattering expansion and explosive releases of dying organs…

My plagued body drags its pitiful flu-infested frame across the floor of the truck stop bathroom, pulling itself forward by sheer piteous will with little rapidly, waning spurts of desperation….and fading hope.

“Auntie Em……..Toto” the dying lips whisper in its delirium…

The stained fingers claw at the smooth bathroom floor, trying to gain purchase, or maybe, just trying not to spin into the abyss of agonies that is its current state.

The sorry sack of meat paste drags itself forward inch by lurching inch, leaving a snail trail of boogers and spittle that immediately kill the flies that swarm too close to the exposed buttocks of the dying man.wpid-320.jpeg

The body slowly rolls over onto its back and gives up….Strength gone…….

Hope…….dead.

 

The right foot trembles slightly, shaking the piece of toilet tissue that is stuck to it, making it wave like the lonely, defeated flag of surrender…..

The wheezing of the breath, the fevered brow, the sudden shivers, are the only signs of any physical strength left that are visible from the sorry carcass.

The left hand, lying across the body’s stomach, slowly twitches…..

The Nyquil Flu liquid stained lips barely move, they tremble slightly uttering “….going to Alabama with a banjo…” the whispers fading….

The shadows of buzzards circling slowly pass across the waxened, booger crusted face.buzzards

(In a bathroom?) Told you it was delirious…

I hear angels singing……weeping daisies fall from the sky….

Anywho….Back to the Drama King’s death scene….

A slight breeze from a hand dryer stirs a lock of hair across his face….

The dimming, glazed eyes are fixed on a spot in the air, as if though they can see me here looking down.

A slow trickle of spit edges from the corner of the dying bodies lips, pooling inside the ear.

The body uses its last ounce of strength and sticks a finger in the ear and wipes out the mucous….

“Gross” the dying man whispers….

My soul screams from the air above “NOOO!! That can’t be your last words!”

The left hand trembles, the surrender flag waving from the sticky foot….

The body whispers “I kiss’d thee ere I kill’d thee: no way but this; Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.”

“Oh my god you’re pathetic!” I scream with my spirit lips! “Don’t quote Shakespeare in a freaking bathroom death scene!”

The head of my dying flu-ravaged trucker body turns and looks at me, the misty eyes dancing, trying to focus and see me, his floating soul.

He raises his booger caked left hand and gives me the finger and says;

“Etu Brute’?”imagesceasar

Later, as I passed thru the pearly gates, I approached Saint Peter who gave me a quick nod to his right.

I followed the nod and saw Shakespeare standing there with a baseball bat…his foot tapping.

He didn’t look happy

Shit….

“Too much?” I asked……

….. Just asking

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When I die, will the earth keep turning?

Why do they say “Life goes on” after someone dies?

If the world truly loved me it would waste away after I die…

If I really made a difference on this earth, why couldn’t I live forever and do more?

If I’m truly insignificant, then why am I capable of  procreation, art, love…. And destruction?

If each tomorrow is a new day, then why is it hard for me to change ?

If life is about choices why are there so many wrong ones and only one right choice?

Yes, there are options but knowing the difference between  what smells like dog shit, tastes like dog shit, or Is dog shit takes experience and effort.

Then why do we always want to test a boiling pot…?

If had an employee that represented my life, I would fire them.

There are several answers to any question….

No there’s not.

Think about it.

What kind of answer is “yes AND no”?

If there are subtle differences why are they so easy to recognize?

If we can be taught, then why do we never learn?

If we learn from the past, why do we forget the lessons?

Future – 1 = Past

If we can remember what a certain flower smells like all of our life and a certain song, then why can’t I remember all the sunshine?

Why can we describe the ugly in much more detail than the beautiful?

Because there are no words for true beauty… Only wind and music.

You are beautiful…

We are beautiful…

I..Am beautiful…

Can you whistle?

Good….

Whistle a little tune today and know that you are beauty.

You… Are wind and music…

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

Hump Day: A Shakespeare Sonnett

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(not Shakespeare)

Oh Wednesday
Oh Wednesday

When doth cometh unto me thy poor servant
A simple dabbler in verse or prose

Ye draw the stage curtains across my quill and type, a sense of thy redress

Whereas not a single soul is stirred in yon Land of WordPress.

Oh WordPressia
Oh WordPressia

Draw not thy stalwart shutter
Hump day is no bastion that must be held

‘Tis not the joyus painful rapture of a cell

An artist must creates

To manifest their wares before a Web site whereas Hump Day doth desolates

Is there voodoo in this place to keep admirers away

Is there an unreachable summit of the hump on this Hump day eve
That breaks my horde of followers to their very knees

I am abandoned oh Absalom(?)

Oh Absalom
Oh Worthy words

Fail not from thine worship of my inane verbs
Cast off thine fear and relief for Hump Day

Although Sunday was only 3 days ago, thy bitch and moan
“Hump Day, Hump Day whoop whoop!”

Tanka: Departing Geese

This is my first attempt at a Tanka..
See also….
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com/2014/01/carpe-diem-make-haiku-complete-5.html?m=1
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Departing geese
Wing tip to tip, mirrors wave
Ice recedes at Springs behest
Flowing, growing, nested rest

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