I Wanna Be
Dedicated to Donut Bird.
You throw dead crackers at walking birds,
More stupid people I've never heard.
Now you're sailing past sinking jugs,
Pausing to recall a first love hug.
Tetrahydrocannabinol and carbon rain,
Hosting ghost planets inside your brain.
For the end is near and your world is done,
As the Hellmouth hovers over spoiling fun.
Now I must fight with fortified hands,
The wraiths of fate from demonic lands.
I blast them with lasers from my nuclear eyes,
'till they crisp and smolder, and death does die.
Only then may I dream of forever more,
No raven to caw out chilling lore.
My mouth is dry and my heart does race.
I battle within incomprehensible space.
The phantoms all gather to break my parts,
But I am hot-wired to block their starts.
The reaper reaches to squeeze my soul,
As I zap him (it) with a hot fusion cold.
And now I'm running from a would-be god,
Hanging with a goddess who digs my rod.
Astral projecting from a fat, wet cloud,
I return to Earth for my burial shroud.
This living forever is such a drag,
If I can't have my Dunkin or a girl with a wag.
And I can't throw dead crackers at walking birds,
That pause when they see me -- how absurd!
Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016
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