Feel as tho' I'm going to the dogs
it's almost time to pop my clogs
kick the bucket chuck it in
call it a day take a spin
and shuffle off this mortal coil
be released from worldly troubles and toil
buy the farm and bite the dust
or cash in my chips if I must
when D-Day dawns (it's not that far)
a big bang send-off will be my last hurrah
but it's no joke
as should I croak
who will miss me
when I'm long-gone
for no matter where on earth I am
I don't fit in I don't belong
oh well easy come easy go
whether up in smoke or down below
Those who are tough lived long enough
(from puerile juvenile to senile immobile)
to become on the world's bum a boil
in the very end my good friend old chum
will finally shuffle off their mortal coil
go to the dogs then pop their clogs
come to some harm and buy the farm
get a leg out check out peg out
or as bad luck would have it kick the bucket
when they give up the ghost and they're toast
if they were an eskimo
we'd sit them out on the ice and snow
but we're humane we do maintain
ne'er more to roam we condemn them
for life to an old folks' home
where the infirm may wither and dither
hanging around dwindling down
until the day they f-fade away
It’s tattooed lightly on my upper arm
“I love my mom, and she loves me”, it reads.
A squad from Space Force dragged me in the weeds:
“We’ve nailed you, boy. You’ll do no further harm.”
I woke in Guatemala, feeling calm:
I knew that an American who pleads
such stuff as ‘habeas corpus’ oft succeeds,
and sought me out a lawyer, without qualm.
But asking for the consul caused alarm!
They deemed it, ‘most nefarious of deeds’.
The embassy said, “Out of all the breeds
of poison snakes, you lib’rals take the palm!”
“That mother-love thing brings no saving balm,
applying pressure to unanswered needs:
we’ve got your measure – tie-dye shirt and beads!
The type that once protested Vietnam!”
“You’re lucky that you didn’t buy the farm,
since MAGA’s down on surreptitious creeds.
Whoever hurts the orange leader, bleeds.
It’s anti-presidential, that there psalm.”
Till life retires me I won’t retire
all cries to uncles stalled
And won’t slow down or buy the farm
till Abraham has called
My will as though a five-year-olds
wild and dancing free
Those trees of life I’ve yet to climb
still calling out to me
The view much clearer though ladder worn
from high atop myself
With passions free and burning hot
each thought more deeply felt
Somewhere a bugle waits for me
an Angel standing by
To blow my name when time abates
—upon whose wings I’ll fly
(Beaupre: June, 2022)
Well I think it's about time once again
To thank all my friends here on the Soup
To let you all know how much you mean to this old duffer
For brightening up each and every one of my days
At this late stage in a very happy life
With your oh so kind, uplifting and encouraging words
Especially from all you dear sweet ladies
You continue to curl my toes and zip my zipper
Youse guys are appreciated too but sorry
You don't curl my toes OR zip my zipper
But you DO pop my buttons when I get a thumbs up
I've often thought, what would my life be like
If I was to call it quits... WHAT!!!
And leave all my sweet sweet lovable friends
NOT A FREAKING CHANCE!
You're stuck with me for the duration
1. Till I cash in my chips
2. Till my body assumes room temperature
3. Till I bite the bullet
4. Till I buy the farm
5. Till I climb over that last ridge
6. Till I'm food for the worms
7. Till I take a dirt nap
8. Till I take the last train to Memphis
9. Till my Internet crashes
10. Till I go “**** up”
So are you picking up what I'm putting down?
I AIN'T GOIN' NOWHERE!
© Jack Ellison 2014
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