The rich man’s yacht sits in the marina.
Once a week someone comes and cleans off the bird poop.
The poor man’s bottle sits on the counter.
It gathers no dust.
Yes, it's annoying that the rich can hire clever lawyers to avoid paying any taxes.
But let's be fair; those lawyers don't work for free.
Keeping conversation general
That takes a juggler great
Each person kept within the group
Is like a spinning plate
Caffeine is the antidote to embalming fluid, which I inject each day on arising from the shallow grave of sleep.
Burial, incineration, body donation, dispose of it how you will, we shall all share a common grave.
Thinking of death is not morbid. This joint is closing soon and I must make sure I have enough cash for the cab ride home.
No matter how remote victory seems,
No matter how weak its rallies grow,
We don’t give up on our team till the final buzzer.
Same thing with our body.
I would've commented as Anonymous again, but after reading your death-themed squibs, 'The Morning After,' I decided I should resume being myself until I'm not, and further proclaim
ReplyDelete"The sky is still blue this morning in NW Minnesota; the birds still sing."
The tone and content of today's Squibs is a deviation from the norm. Range is a good thing. Comments match the vaulted messages delivered by The Chairman. I'm impressed with both; however, I esp. like Wannaska Writer's take on our blessed corner of the world. Out here in Beltrami Island Forest, the sky is also brilliant blue and the robins, indeed, are singing, the Ravens are scrawing, and the hummingbirds are humming as they dive bomb Willa and Sancho. Thanks WW, for reminding us of the Great Matters of Death and Life, one mystical circle, to be sure.
DeleteSo we struggle and we stagger
ReplyDeleteDown the snakes and up the ladder
To the tower where the blessed hours chime
- from Closing Time by Leonard Cohen
Looking at the above reflections, you might enjoy a listen.