Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Monday, 31 January 2022

Poetry Corner: Ode To The Dying Boomer

 This masterpiece comes to us from none other than Vox Day.


You know what I’m doing, this is the time and place
I feel nothing but fabric, when I press down on your face
You really had me goin’, headin’ where you are
The explanation for you is eviler by far
I believed your generation, was going to change the world
And now your own grandchildren don’t know they’re boy or girl
There’s not much to examine, there’s nothing left to hide
You really can’t be serious if you have to ask me why
I say goodbye

Cause you’re no longer breathing, and now you’re out of air
Don’t know who you’re kidding, imagining I care
And I could stand here waiting, and watch as you fade away
I don’t suppose it’s worth the price, you’re worth the price, the price that I would pay

And everyone keeps asking, why we’re all so mad
How we can lament it, the life we never had
What’s the destination, can’t you feel the pain?
There’s nothing left to reason and only you to blame
You’ll never change

Cause you’re no longer breathing, and now you’re out of air
Don’t know who you’re kidding, imagining I care
And I could stand here waiting, and watch as you fade away
I don’t suppose it’s worth the price, you’re worth the price, the price that I would pay
But I’m thinking it over anyway
I’m thinking it over anyway

I said goodbye, it’s time to go
You’re out of time, a soft pillow
My hand above, your face below
And every breath that comes and goes
Boomer, it’s time to move on

Cause you’re no longer breathing, and now you’re out of air
Don’t know who you’re kidding, imagining I care
And I could stand here waiting, and watch as you fade away
I don’t suppose it’s worth the price, you’re worth the price, the price that I would pay
But I’m thinking it over anyway
I’m thinking it over anyway

I know what to do now. I’ll end it now, right here.

HAR HAR HAR!!! 😂👍 Sniff…! That was beautiful!!!

I just sit here in my spiritual out house on the edge of the glen of Utopia with the door open, hoping the doings of my fellow man can inspire me to move my spiritual bowels and get off the pot…and I usually just get bunged right up worse than ever! I push and grunt and nothing comes out… but boy… I wish I could chit like Vox Day!

I look at my parents. I look at my kid. I look at my own failures. I look at theirs. We all made huge mistakes. I can take mine and own them… but neither the kid or the parents can own theirs. They walk with the angels as pure as the driven snow even as they say and do the most rancid things. And the kids will be shocked and horrified when their own kids come for them.

Was it always this way? Sure we have to die to make way for the kids… but on these terms? The only decision left is to laugh or weep.

I should write a similar poem for the kids. Can anyone come up with a verse that rhymes with "beaten to death with a lead pipe"? 

The mind wobbles.

2 comments:

  1. filmed it all and posted on skype?
    lol

    ReplyDelete
  2. ...stuffed 'em under the porch, and they're getting kinda ripe.

    ReplyDelete