Tossing another token to John Prine who epitomized offering more with less. I liken this to a song rather than a poem but I’ll leave that definition to the reader.
Hey, dying ain’t all it’s cracked up to be
so don’t you go listening to that Fibber McGee
nobody’s thinking ‘I gotta hit the finish line strong’
’cause there ain’t any victors racking up wrongs
Living serves up messy helpings of joy and dire
on the level with the devil and singing with the choir
as my hourglass sands silently collect at the bottom
the choir loudly singing ‘smoke ’em if you got ’em’
Did I master the rudiments of bountiful living?
was my existence knowledge minus application bidding?
okay, I’m throwing myself on the mercy of the court
and aborting the generous A+ request on my life report
At the end of our paths of becoming a human emeritus
we remain self executioners serving out a life sentence
I’ve learned not much changes putting the tea kettle on
IPA salvation at the brewery tops a day at the salon
But say I make up my mind I want to come back
unfinished business, hand me that jacket of flak
you know if Google or Apple has an app for that?
We all wish for the one offering just rewards
So before I coldfoot it out of this Hotel Final
where it’s always checkout hour with no revival
I’ll offer a last howl before as a breathing human
serving up these words as my last communion.