It is Time……?
Hands who got tired feeding a mouth
Wanted to get away as far as they could
Where no mouth can be found.
Haggard Legs feeling weighted carrying a torso,
They decided to go
Where such a thing on them does not grow.
A burned out neck feeling the toll
Of the volume of traffic that travels along its wall,
It began expunging its unrecognised roll.
The rectum,s sphincter tuned corrugated sewer,
For carrying dregs, a bowl mephitic leftover.
The question is: how in God’s name the trio
That is the head, the mouth and the torso —
All so, the bowel’s jigsaw;
Would now cope
Without the mundane tasks
The sphincter, legs, the hands and the neck scoop?
It is time to shake them off,
the ungrateful parasites
For goodness sake!
By Belay Ambelay