Going to the Dogs

Well it had to happen sooner or later, alot of things are just going to the dogs these days, and this blog is no exception. Just open any newspaper, start reading, and get the vomit bag ready. How could the human race get so far astray??? Where can so much madness lead?

.

Have been listening to a couple of Pink Floyd discs in the car lately, Animals and Dark Side of the Moon, from which a couple of lines come to mind :

.

"With. . . . . Without. . . .

And who'll deny

It's what the fighting's all about"

.

And these lines from Dogs :

.

"Gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused

Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used

Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise

If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze"

.

Does anyone know the way back out of this maze we have built and fenced ourselves in with? And this next bit, I don't know what comes over me sometimes, it's something akin to an epileptic seizure, frothing at the mouth I sit and start writing before the thought escapes...

.

.

.. Epitaph
.
I used to think
Long ago
That when the time came
I would be buried
My cadaver that is
In some cemetery
Under a headstone
With a fitting epitaph
Snug in a coffin
To keep the worms out
.
In later years
I cast off such thoughts
And openly stated
That I wished to be cremated
My ashes flung to the four winds
No defined place known
As my final resting home
.
In a revelation tonight
It appeared clear to me
That even cremation
Is too much trouble
And excess expense
.
When the day comes
That I die
As it surely will
Just drag my body off
And dump it in
Some distant woods
Let the worms and rats
And maggots come
May wild dogs
Gnaw my bones
For my epitaph
Just carve an “X”
On some nearby stone

.