It is degrading to be human!

Dung beetle or fox, very well!

But human...

Homo sapiens' potential for intelligence

is unbecoming a being born in screams, shouts

and blood;

dying in stinking putrefaction,

overlooked by uninterested blue-collar workers

with hang-overs

and the latest version of Covid-19

- or lit, flamed and incinerated

between coffee breaks

by farting relief workers

at the city crematory

It is degrading to be human!

No, Homo sapiens' IQ average

doesn't suite the in-and-out existence

of this loosely assembled hunk

of cells and bacteria

in a skin suit

with individuality

as a fatal drug

It is degrading to be human!

A happy-go-lucky post-graduate

who understands decay

and poetry

and the pluralistic pains of being,

swarming him

dressed in costumes of screwing

and scruples,

comes across

as the cardinal error of Evilution

It is degrading to be human!

A cup of holy wrath

and the point of a knife's

sharp-edged poetry

come in handy,

or, for that matter,

war and randomized religion,

but a straight Ingemar Johansson right

in everything's everywhere

will also do,

for existence has all to many sympathizers

I drug myself

with shiny black ravens

and weighty, wobbly women

with blurry faces

in troubled time scales

and driving rain

So be it!

It is degrading to be human!

I cut down on thinking

and eavesdrop on the tricks

of the shaman bass drum

in the moist interior

of the rib cage;

muffled, ominous,

destined for failure

at the very last moment