A Friend of Death

The common folk have made
a friend of death.

And why not?

The wisest and poorest among us
know he can't be avoided.
The rich may use medicine, tonics,
and surgery to hide their trails,
but he can't be avoided.

He is as inevitable as sunset,
as inescapable as a cold front,
as inexorable as a glacier.




Death has a bloodhound,
all nose, teeth, and feet,
on our trail and no matter how fast we run
we all end up in
a tree with his hound baying below.

So, why run at all?

Let's take Death's power.
Take away his scythe,
and replace it with a cane.
Take away his cowl,
and dress him as a dandy.
Why fear his bloody hound
when you can make him wag his tail?

Drugs, lust, liquor, and smoke
are Death's secret weapons,
and laughter is ours.

So laugh at the dandy,
throw rocks at his top hat,
and make that bloodhound
sit, speak and roll over
for our bones.