Lonely At The Top
It’s lonely here, at the top,
the manure high and much
to shovel; fertilizer on sale
today! My family business,
hauling and distributing animal,
fecal slop – pungent every
route and obligatory stop...
Quite enterprising to make
good use, of what they eat
and freely let loose --
all nature born to recycle --
?~Wonder if the soul resents what it knows,
the scented consumption of bodies kills
what it grows --
knows what it uses (a generation)
to make love and
strife (life the fickle-begetter of life)
leaves from behind such an
odious spice… Clouds form,
sky spits and rains – man eats,
drinks, sh’ts on all mountains,
in seas on rolling plains. Seems,
no-matter what man produces
involves decay and pile of stink --
When God planned His evolving nature,
did He perhaps have occasion to burp, pinch His Nose,
fart and blink?
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