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Les Wicks (Australia)
Big Dig Gig — Live to Air
No sooner was I dead
than a network PA took me to make-up.
I was prepared for anything
& admitted cosmetics were not a bad idea
as few of the passed look pretty.
As the layer of apricot dust cracked about my beard
I wondered if the pancake stuff
was available in all shades
or if those of colour have
yet another dispossession before them.
The make-up lady “Hi I’m Tina” refused any answers,
Don’t bother about others pet
your death is a solo spot —
the show’s all about you.
Feeling stiffened
(know you’re thinking rigamortis)
I’m shuffled towards the lights.
There’s a handshake, the interviewer has read up
about my “superb career” & Australian social trends:
What’s happening with the refugees? I can’t carry
the weight but Anubis’ feather is a set prop
& that seems just as heavy.
It all went swimmingly, this stygian studio.
No promise of ratings but live-to-air music kicked in
& four choices were offered by her as
a thank-you for appearing on the show.
Reincarnation was not the popular option
but worthy of consideration. You could be smarter
or richer. Births add to GDP &
there aren’t enough cockatoos or lions
opting for the step-up. Yes, there will be
some problems but if you land in South Sudan
you’ll be back here soon enough.
I’m told the truly tired choose Nothing.
No more traffic snarl or nosy bosses.
Illness would be an unnecessary distraction
so is never programmed in.
It’s post-reality TV, costs us zero to maintain
& is being taken up in droves.
For Us, Heaven is pretty much the opposite,
an infinity of histrionic dramas minus those disasters
you can pin any decent narrative on.
Everyone seems to want something different.
Even when you pair up old couples there’s dissonance…
she wants Vishnu dancing, he wants sports.
For most it’s more serepax than seraphim.
Entirely your choice, but we don’t actively encourage
more flitterbugs, those bloody harpists.
Hell’s had a bum rap. Sure,
no one will sell you travel insurance but
unique eternities are there for the taking. Think
Havana 1955, the Mongol horde
& Dodge City. It does get hot
but a lifetime’s air-conditioning
makes you overdue for change.
Hell has the best, really the only stories
worth scratching down in blood.
Aware that delay could result in forfeiture
“time is decomposing” &
indecision leads to ghostliness.
I made my choice.
Standby for further updates.
No sooner was I dead
than a network PA took me to make-up.
I was prepared for anything
& admitted cosmetics were not a bad idea
as few of the passed look pretty.
As the layer of apricot dust cracked about my beard
I wondered if the pancake stuff
was available in all shades
or if those of colour have
yet another dispossession before them.
The make-up lady “Hi I’m Tina” refused any answers,
Don’t bother about others pet
your death is a solo spot —
the show’s all about you.
Feeling stiffened
(know you’re thinking rigamortis)
I’m shuffled towards the lights.
There’s a handshake, the interviewer has read up
about my “superb career” & Australian social trends:
What’s happening with the refugees? I can’t carry
the weight but Anubis’ feather is a set prop
& that seems just as heavy.
It all went swimmingly, this stygian studio.
No promise of ratings but live-to-air music kicked in
& four choices were offered by her as
a thank-you for appearing on the show.
Reincarnation was not the popular option
but worthy of consideration. You could be smarter
or richer. Births add to GDP &
there aren’t enough cockatoos or lions
opting for the step-up. Yes, there will be
some problems but if you land in South Sudan
you’ll be back here soon enough.
I’m told the truly tired choose Nothing.
No more traffic snarl or nosy bosses.
Illness would be an unnecessary distraction
so is never programmed in.
It’s post-reality TV, costs us zero to maintain
& is being taken up in droves.
For Us, Heaven is pretty much the opposite,
an infinity of histrionic dramas minus those disasters
you can pin any decent narrative on.
Everyone seems to want something different.
Even when you pair up old couples there’s dissonance…
she wants Vishnu dancing, he wants sports.
For most it’s more serepax than seraphim.
Entirely your choice, but we don’t actively encourage
more flitterbugs, those bloody harpists.
Hell’s had a bum rap. Sure,
no one will sell you travel insurance but
unique eternities are there for the taking. Think
Havana 1955, the Mongol horde
& Dodge City. It does get hot
but a lifetime’s air-conditioning
makes you overdue for change.
Hell has the best, really the only stories
worth scratching down in blood.
Aware that delay could result in forfeiture
“time is decomposing” &
indecision leads to ghostliness.
I made my choice.
Standby for further updates.
