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“MEETING STAN.” a poem a.k.a.: “Am I Floating Upside Down?” Oct. 7, 2019 (Monday)

“Where is my jewelry; I’ve a party to attend.”

MY CELL PHONE “went off;” it was a text Gladys did send:

(Gladys said): “Why does God trick us; what is God’s plan?”

(I texted back): “Why do you think God’s like a man?”

GOD is no trickster; (s)he’s more like my sister,

Steady and regular, with a baseball cap and a tan,

Shooting OVER PAR and going to every lonely bar,

Drinking a little whiskey; There’s God in that car.

God doesn’t care IF you live or die,

So why then at funerals do you want to cry?

God has SO tricked us, we’re not really sure,

If we’re floating upside down or not. LIFE is A BLUR,

‘Cause we haven’t the vision to see the mi crobes,

And, so we are all practicing to be germaphobes.

WHY HAS GOD TRICKED US, making us think that we’re mortal?

OrThat afterLife, we’ll encounter a dimly lit portal,

And, if you go that way, INTO THE LIGHT,

You’re back where you started, sit ting on The Right,

Hand of some derelict, who asks IF YOU CAN,

GIVE HIM A LOAN. “Hi, my name’s Stan.” (pause)

Suddenly, you realize IF you insert an “A,”

This person’s name is then S A tan. “You’re GOD?” you might say.

“Well, yeah; I figured ifPeople were more scared of me,

They wouldn’t ask for all that stuff, and I could relax, you see,

And, if I was approached, I could say: I’M ORDI NARY,

Or I’M NO ONE or NOTHING.” “Well, that’s kind of scary,

To think The Creator has gone ‘undercover.’ “

“Well, I guess, but what do you expect from someone without a mother?

You see, with no one to train me or tell me what to do,

I just made a whole lot o’ robots, ROBOTS, like YOU,

And, if I snap my fingers, you won’t remember a thing.” (snap.)

(pause)

I’m still looking for my jewelry. “Where’s my fashionable bling?”

fin β™₯

ESCAPE ROUTE (a limerick) I’mSeeking aSafe passage way, ToEscapeThisCruel world to day; she said: “It’s right here,” so, after strong beer, I escaped to that place right away. (pause) BUT I REALIZEDafter it was too late, I’dMadeAmistake Iguess it was fate, ‘Cause the place that I went ItWasNOTheavenSent, ItWasJustWhereI finallyMet “My Mate.” πŸ™‚ – Oh, OK, Stan.

ThisRoute turnsOutToBe Heaven afterall, Even though, it is HEREyouTakeYourFall, But it’s Heaven, I’m sure, For I went on a tour, of Hell, andHell’sScaredOfMyDoll.

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Published by J Jay Samuel Davis

A West Texas Cowboy, seeking "fishers of (wo)men!"

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