Now then, child: Pull up the covers & close your eyes & I’ll sing you a sweet little sleep song. Lie back – relax – breathe in – breathe out, and it goes like this, you see.
Lie back… Relax… Breathe in… Breathe out… And it goes… Like this… You’ll see:
You see, it’s not The End when the lights go out, when the Darkness comes, you see? Tho to all the world your breath has fled, YOU do not cease to be. Tho you do not speak & you do not smile & you miss that planned appointment. Still you hear their voices, share their cries, as the priest soaks you in ointment.
Hehe… Shh! No no, child. No, no. It’s okay. It’s alright. Don’t stir, don’t fuss. Now we’re nearly to the crux of my tale!
Now then, where was I? Ah yes, that’s right, & it goes like this, you see… Lie back… Relax… Breathe in… Breathe out… And it goes… Like this… You see:
& you’re still just you when they bury you & they cover you in mud. & you see it! hear it! smell it all! tho they drained you of your blood.
& your soft parts harden & your hards get soft & you take on purplish hue. But you hear the drums & the stone man comes & he steals what’s best of you. Yes you hear the drums & the stone man comes & he steals what’s best of you.
Your skin sloughs off, your bones break down, & the worms come in to chew. Then the roots grow up, come out your eyes so they block out most your view. What’s left to see’s so bad by then, you’re thankful when they do!
Putrescence! Putrescence! That trusty state that comes & claims us all. Turns all what was your brains to pus, then bugs swarm in to crawl. 4 years of Latin that you took when you were but a boy? It’s in some maggot’s stomach - Now, who’ll eat all your Tolstoy?
& doodlebugs hurry down thru the parts that did hold all your fears. & flowers grow up thru your ribs & beetles lap your tears. & then someday, your mind will fade, but that will still take years. Cos YOU stay there when out of air, your Mind just clicks & clears.
& um, well... The song goes on like this for quite a while, child, w/ corporeal breakdown & generalized rot. But then it gets kinda ugly in the verse comes next, so I’m skipping to the end, you see.
& it's ugly 'round the middle of the verse comes next, so I’m skipping to the end, you see.
To where the girls skip double dutch on top the grave where the flowers grow that ate ya. & they sing a song ‘bout what went wrong & what it was unmade ya.
They go:
If your ratty old Hell
Is the hole where the gal’s
Gonna send you
Cos you’re sure to die
& the gal w/ the mask’s
Gonna end you!
Bones rap knock knock
Late to call the doc-doc
The Grok! It’s the Grok!
Bones rap knock knock
Late to call the doc-doc
The Grok! It’s the Grok!
Alright, child, that’s it for now. Nighty night.
Sweet dreams & kisses…
That is fabulous! And I had just laid down to bed myself, how perfect to read then. It's wonderful, thank you very very much.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure what it is, either.
ReplyDeleteBut I know this -- and it goes like this; you see, you see - it goes like this; you see:
I'm gonna get cremated. In fact, it's in my Instructions, my Will, and in a little card I carry.
If I'm lucky, in the end, they'll fry me up to a turn and pour me out in the Crematorium's rose-garden.
See, the card, and the Instructions, and the Will, simply offer that what's-left should be Transported, Fried, and Disposed, in that order.
If I'm lucky, it'll be done by sundown on the same day - not for any real reason, but just that I don't want it to take long.
No cutting and prodding and wondering "What killed him?"
Again - logic and reason: He's dead - fry him up. Next...
ROB: Haha... yes, just before bed, everyone wants to read a lyric about how you remain trapped inside your psyche after you die.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome!
WILL: If you carry it around w/ you, Dd you call that "Little Will"?
ReplyDeleteDoes that mean if I murdered you & did it just a LITTLE bit cleverly, there'd be no way for them to know already before the cremation? Why can't the people I WANT to kill have the same provision?
The problem w/ cremation - if the lullaby is true - is that you'd still be conscious of things as you were getting burned up. Which would be fine once you were dust, but getting there could be Hell!
I would wager to say to their misfortune, not EVERYONE, but I do and probably a great many who like twilight zone, zombies, outer limits, Marilyn manson, bros Grimm, Freud, Jung, Nietzsche, horror flicks, or those who like catchy little lullabies about how you remain trapped inside your psyche after you die sang to them would.
ReplyDeletep.s. omg and children, stir and fuss, sure they're kids, tie 'em up and feed 'em that lullaby and they'll eat it up, eat it up I tell ya. Well what am I saying, you were reading to your kids there, you know... your kids right wait you don't have kids though do you?! Sooooo where'd you grab the kids from?! Their stirring and fussing wasn't about the lullaby, was it!
ReplyDeleteMost of the stuff that we connect with childhood stories is atually pretty rough, when reviewed during adulthood.
ReplyDeleteThis song wouldn't cut it, really - I would need to name a hero & have him travel through a series of thinly veiled death references.
You would? Ok well, I'll defer to your better judgment on that and anxiously await the release of that epic tale.
ReplyDelete