SMBC Comics Forum

Kimra wrote:That is a type of zombie poetry, but from a different perspective. You're so closed minded.

there will come a day when everyone you know is dead,
and your city has come to ruin
and your bones come to sand
and eventually no one will even remember you
or your fucked-up life
your censored autobiographies
that became a footnote in a kid's textbook
for poli sci 100,
he cited you
Morgan versus the States two thousand and eight
in a landmark case
that became your greatest public shame and disgrace.
the photos of the corpse you kept in the closet
or your flower collection
will be used as a stock image in The Truman Show 2
where Jim Carrey the Third goes to town
in the automobile you patented.
75 years later it expired;
you can feel your next door neighbours rolling in their graves
when your ancestors disown you.
The peach tree they grew six feet above you
lived and died just the same, though a thousand years later
its twin is alive and your son is long dead too.
if they find your fossil fuels in a million years
you'll live just long enough to watch the sun supernova
and the earth turn grey
but it's okay,
you can sit in the back of the class
on an asteroid circling Alpha Centauri
while a crow from New Caledonia that speaks Esperanto
picks at your bones and gets Mrs. Morgan pregnant.

All I ever do is drive past poppy fields and
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields.
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields and
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields.
The engine wouldn't kick over, so I got out
for just a moment to enjoy the view,
always breathtaking whether in the middle of these poppy flowers
or in a cliffside cavern,
deep sea mapping at the ocean floor
and all these mountain ridges,
you could go blind for two weeks
and not remember what sight looks like when you return.
I slept for six days straight and on the seventh,
woke up, showered, shaved, got dressed,
got in my car, went for a drive and said to myself,
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields and
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields.
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields and
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields.
And my friend saw God this one time,
the angelic chorus said to him,
"you must not use chemicals,
there's a forest of trees out there
with a fruit that's delicious to eat
take a seed, plant it, watch it grow
and take over this planet,
when it's all covered in fields of poppies"
So he woke up, got out of bed,
gave a dozen roses to his girlfriend,
went to the phone, hit the redial,
called me up and all he could say was,
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields and
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields.
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields and
All I ever do is drive past poppy fields.

I can't wait for the day
two months later
when the story's over
turn the ignition,
knock over a fence and shout out the window