Friday, October 30, 2009


Fatalists insist their names exist on God’s list of who will die when and why, but they still persist to depend on pills to delay the day they must pass away and wait to be born again as an ass, a snake in the grass, a rooster, a hen or a ballpoint pen.

Some look ahead to being dead so they can be rebred, recreated or reincaranated. However God gets rid of rejects, derelict hippocratic lunatics who sell their souls to Republican politics.

If it’s a fact that when I go I might come back. I pray God will not send me to this place in space of death and insanity that threaten humanity.

I’d prefer a life on planet Mars where a candy bar is the Official Food. Where a cow jumped over the moon and mooed and Saturn sat on a satellite and the fright of its bite sent a cry in the night that went on and on.

Came the dawn, Saturn was gone.


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