3rd-ROCK-FROM-THE-SUN PHILOSOPHY BLUES

In case you haven’t noticed it yet...
every last soul who ever walked the planet 
(of the eighteen hundred ninety-eight zillion jillion)
is dust in the wind— oh, except for you, and those
paltry billions out there still hanging on... just for now...
banking on that grand delusion that somehow,
someway (admit it) you will, like Sisyphus,
figure out a way to cheat death
at the eleventh hour...


Newsflash: nobody gets off the rock alive— never
has, never will. This just in: you’re a‘ temporary,’
this generation’s moss on the rolling stone,
and the hell of it... the Hades of it all:
you’re hopelessly hard-wired for SURVIVAL...
why, you’re a freakin’ robot, pc-programmed
to do everything in your mortal power not
to go gentle into that good night— it’s the ol’
Greek fate thing: classic existential irony...
 
So— you’ve got some choices:
you can agonize over it
every single day till your last dying breath...
or just get over it, simply accept that
whatever it’s all about, Alfie, it probably
ain’t about this place...

or not....

either way: you’ve got your work cut out for you...
either way: you’ve got some adjusting to do...

(Hey Luuuucy! you got some ‘justin’ to do!)

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