“HOARDING IDEAS.” a poem October 3, 2019 (Thor’s Day)
There are NO REALMS; there’s NO Heaven, but let’s not pout,
Even though Nirvana’s dissolved, and Valhalla’s on its way out.
Let’s go visit NEVERNEVERLAND and/or go sit on The Moon,
Talking with The Cheese Man; it’s good to be with him. (We’ll be there soon.)
IF we took all the children that believe in LIFE AFTER DEATH,
And gave them sufficient doses of L. S. D. or meth,
Perhaps THAT WOULD BE A SUFFICIENT START?
However, that would take care of us ALL, for the human likes to depart,
And go to some place ELSE ANY PLACE AT ALL,
Just to avoid the situation (s)he’s devised (which has failed) to give us A BALL.
The thing is: We do a lousy job, coming up with PLACES to go to AFTER WE DIE;
We think that (our devised) NICE PLACES AFTER DEATH explain WHY,
We are suffering now and are so miserable in The Nation,
So we devise the next GetAway OUR DREAM VACATION,
And, whenwe return to our miserable little existence,
We’re tired and confused, and STILL HAVE GREAT INSISTENCE,
That HEAVEN will be PERFECT, even though we’ve NO idea how,
Anything could be perfect, for WE CAN’T FIND HAPPINESS IN THE NOW:
(1) These places DON’T EXIST, although we talk about them every week;
(2) So there’s NO ONE THERE. You’d think we’d get tired always seeking to seek,
For A BETTER PLACE, where (finally) HAPPINESS WE’LL FIND.
(3) Ain’t gonna happen, Sports Fans, and, so, Little Virginia just whined,
Saying: “But I want Santa to bring me presents and stuff,”
AND (you know) Little Virginia CAN NEVER GET ENOUGH,
Of what it is she THINKS she’s looking for,
But let’s all be sure: SANTA’S COMIN’ THROUGH THAT VERY DOOR,
Or down the chimney, even though it’s been blocked up forever,
And Jesus will in THE NEXT I CLOUD, in The Land of NeverNever.
YOU KNOW, There’s NO LIFE AFTER DEATH for us Honey;
There’s no death; DEATH’S A MYTH; it’s even money,
That whatever THAT THING (death) is, IT’S LIKE FALLING ASLEEP,
And we can continue LIFE in another state that is equally deep
As THIS STATE, The World State of Joyous Confusion and Woe,
With Donald, Nancy, Vladimir, Rostropovich and Edgar Allan Poe,
Ravin’ about The Glories of Heaven, truth and justice and acquisitions,
Solidarity and Congressional Holidays and Divinely inspired missions.
Geez, suffering’s part of Life? Sorry; too bad; let’s all weep on That ICloud,
And “hoard” ideas within our minds. Come on, for crying out loud,
Our MINDS ARE SO CROWDED with all this funky imagination,
That our insanity is totally obscured, as we plan our next, GREAT vacation.