Solipsis of Missals

I don’t want to sit here and lambast my poor pitiable self

in some pseudo-Catholic act of contrition and mortification.

So instead I’m busting out my Bozo the clown in frown face;

busting-up and falling-out with friendlies, undoubtedly,

though now, not.

Somehow in the over hauling of my ego-sack

I usually keep slung back and out of sight,

I pulled wide-open … entirely opened

for all the cyber-world of wizened peeps,

for my forever-keeps, to get a really good gander at.
That’s that then. What’s done has been done.

Or is it?
Was it the Fun of the One?

The laugh-track playback

of a Ludicrous Lord, bored perhaps

with the backlash of His Lamentable Actions?

I am affording myself much more leeway in this

solipsis of missals gone wrong.

 Hmmm. Hum. Soham and so on. Some kind of fun, You, You, You …

 God!

Enough adding to this duckishly-drafted

duck-the-buck muck-about. Alas! What was quacked-out loudly

from my loutish-mouthed cavort

is now twacked back, crafted

by the full moon in bloom last night.

Today I want to say how not sad I am.
Just the writing of these words makes me chortle out loud.

We cannot continue sitting around bummed and bothered

by the play we foddered forth so fiercely 

when our familiarity bred discontent

upon contempt.

 None of us are exempt from the tempting of Fate.

 It’s time for me to wrap-up these loony tuned lines.

I cannot weep for me, for we are, and I am

standing on a Cosmic Runway, shoulder to shoulder

and arm in arm. This Comic Brunt we’re facing,

it’s all Shudder, Frolic and Chum,

Chimera, Chagrin, Fabulot and Got It!

As for me and mine –

We are defined by this cat-with-a-bird-grin

and it’s all just as an endless Amen

to the ending of all our sins

still simmering in and decimating  

from a past that does not exist.

 

 Image

 

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