When He pressed those sticky buttons
on that old melodion
and the stars peaked through the cloudy night …
well, I was nothing more or less
than a fox in the late spring.
My industry was one of mere instinct —
of sight and smell.
Walt Disney and his cronies would’ve been
only in the knowledge
that the yin to their yang was locked
outside the secure gates
of their estates.
yet satisfied with the scraps of those feast pigs
(after all, Walter never ate the bacon)
I was, and am
faster than the bin man
Returning to the hillside
is a big relief after being exposed
and stranded in the desert.
Still, there is very little shame
in colouring those mountains red & blue
Particularly when their thorny exterior
cannot really hurt you.
Don’t you realise that there has been —
on at least two or three occasions —
orange autumn leaves that have survived the winter?
don’t ask me how… just consider it
Wigglesworth, Grindleton, Tosside,
and bastards, and brawlers, and brats …
there was once a time
when the earth was nothing but dry desert:
and I can guarantee you
that history will repeat itself
in this case.
However, this deserted episode
in the earth’s unwinding tale
does not fall under the bracket of “history,”
only covers a certain fraction
of humanity’s brief journey —
it is only his story
that these plain, sorry words
are capable of expressing (apparently).
And no funeral service
or jewell-studded coffin
is gonna pacify the explosion — the inevitable finale!
He can’t escape the chaos
that must ensue,
even with the craftiness of a fox.
Summer is coming!
Winter is over …
we will never see Him again.
“Pack your shit, folks”