“Death Isn’t Funny Anymore”

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(12-25)

 

 

As a youngster, I thought that seniors were slow

Their worries seemed oddly burdened with woe

I didn‘t understand what they came here for

But death isn’t funny anymore

With the artful lament of a bullying boss

I learned about God, and Christ on the cross

And that rote revelation opened the door

Death wasn’t funny anymore

 

Once I as a child, without a reserve

Of images and concepts, templates and words

I struggled just to speak about family folklore

But death isn’t funny anymore

At that primal point, I was too young

To perceive the finality of a firing gun

But in older years, I learned so much more

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

Barnabas in his coffin, hiding from Angelique

Rednecks with longnecks, running up and down my street

Football contests without any scores

And death Isn’t funny anymore

Waiting for coffee at the crest of a day

Pondering the penance that I must pay

For waiting too long to admit being bored

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

Last in line at the pearly gates

An outcast by nature, destined to wait

Ernest Tubb, walking the floor

But death isn’t funny anymore

Fresh eyes see what the soul denies

The palest blue of unclouded skies

But under this garment of sin that I wore

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

I read and studied, until almost blind

Right to the limit of my classroom time

Hoping that there might be a reward

But death isn’t funny anymore

When I saw it fall upon a friend

And my sister who journeyed to a bitter end

That was a moment that chilled to the core

Death wasn’t funny anymore

 

Compliments offered left me feeling numb

I was no wiser to inherit that sum

Though saying it aloud made me a son to abhor

Yes, death isn’t funny anymore

I paddled in circles on a frozen lake

Headed in a direction that was my mistake

I could have used a wider oar

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

John Wayne riding in cowboy chaps

Evel Knievel two-wheeling ‘cross the map

All of these heroes from days of yore

Knew that death isn’t funny anymore

I held them close, in high esteem

Fully in awe of their glamourous gleam

But the yield of fandom was a curse to implore

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

Now I am old and bent to the turf

Wondering about what this life is worth

In the breach, there’s a treasure I adore

But death isn’t funny anymore

It comes after dark, when I am weak

Breathing the ether of otherworldly mystique

A vapor that vanishes into my pores

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

As an innocent cub, examples were enough

To fortify a child, yearning to be tough

But when I took my battle to the fore

Death wasn’t funny anymore

Captain Kirk and aliens from afar

Flying through the cosmos, from star to star

They seemed to inspire like a lion’s roar

Death isn’t funny, anymore

 

In this age of rheumatism and rot

I find myself stuck in the crevice of a mail slot

Unable to move as I did, before

Death isn’t funny anymore

A keeper of junk without a clue

No special attraction, earmark, or value

A narrow passage constrained at the bore

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

Hair turns gray and sights will fade

This is the promise of a clockwork parade

Marching stiffly, as if off to war

But death isn’t funny anymore

I know the glory of which men sing

A chase of trophies, and the bright, brass ring

But in the fullness, there’s a potion to pour

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

When I at last lie down and sleep

And the kiss of oblivion is mine to meet

There’ll be a lingering, love metaphor

Because death isn’t funny anymore

The first in line went long ago

And then the second, summoned below

My turn will come, a legacy to restore

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

No one may protest, at the appointed hour

When lonely regrets bud up, and flower

Yet perhaps I will purse my lips and deplore

That death isn’t funny anymore

Unseen and invisible, run out of luck

Drowning in consequences, dredged from the muck

That is the target at which I aimed, heretofore

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

Listless and lost in the vastness of time

An outlier still hobbled by a purpose, sublime

No credit for the badges that generals wore

Death isn’t funny anymore

Lincoln and Kennedy, both rightly revered

A dazzling duo, too soon taken by fear

And I am simply a stumbling matador

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

Through the halls of history, wisely recorded

Scribblers do their best to keep news, reported

While I am humbled, to be a soldier in the corps

Death isn’t funny anymore

I once aspired to be grand and great

To dine with delicacies on my dinner plate

But now, a bricklayer has made my decor

Death isn’t funny anymore

 

To tread on stones, worn smooth by the saints

Is a privilege of commoners, in puddles of paint

Stained with the mark of a precious ore

Death isn’t funny anymore

I should be grateful for this epiphany of gold

And feel blessed, to grow both feeble and old

The final lesson, is ‘caveat emptor’

Death isn’t funny anymore