THE AFTER-LIFE

Friday, December 11, 2009/Thursday, January 7, 2010

THE AFTER-LIFE

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns

Thank God, the overdose is taking effect.
Won’t have to live on this shitty planet any longer.
Yippee!!
Fuck you, Planet Earth.
Hope I never see you, again.
Eat shit and die.

Oh, I feel so relaxed.
A little scared, I have to admit.
If that sadistic shit-head God does exist,
Maybe he’ll be pissed off that I killed myself.

What’s this?
A pink and vermilion corridor of neon.
What’s that sound?
A Musak version of the fucking Monkees!!
I was expecting a celestial choir of angels all in white.
At the very least, Puccini.

Who’s that coming towards me?
Oh, no! It’s my Aunt Tilly!
I never could stand her.
Didn’t she die in the late 80s?
I run past her, ignoring the calling of my name.

I come to a toll-gate at a fork in the road.
A man in a blue uniform says,
“Hey, asshole. Tell us what you did on Earth, if you want to pass through.”

“Well, I didn’t just drink beer and watch football on TV.”

“There’s nothing wrong with football, you snivelling little faggot, “he says.
(Christ, homophobia is okay on the other side?
What kind of an After-Life is this?)

I list my accomplishments to him.
“Big deal!” he says. “How many awards did you win?
How much money did you make?
Were you the CEO of any company? Did you have a PhD?”

“Well, I did win Best Performance at a poetry event
And I won the door prize at my Grade 8 reunion.
I got a couple of Toronto Arts Council grants.”

“Big fucking hairy deal. Not good enough.
Hey, guys. Beat the crap out of this little shit.”
A bunch of thugs come bursting out of nowhere,
With lead pipes in their hands.
I blast away, like a rocket, into the void.
My heart bursts out of my chest.

The mist surrounds me, like London fog, as I run and run.
My bare feet pound the ground, with no end in sight.
The jackals snap at my ass in a world of perpetual night.
Maybe I made the wrong decision.

I sit in the mist for what seems like a thousand years.
I get up and tramp along.
The landscape changes to the Camino in northern Spain.
Beautiful trees, sunshine and light.
I walk and walk for days and days.

Marilyn Monroe appears out of nowhere.
“Philip Cairns. You’re my favourite actor of all time. “
Under her breath, I can hear her mutter,
“I say that to all the actors. It makes them feel good.”

“Philip, I’m telling you,
There’s nowhere to go. Nothing to do.
You’ll be walking down this path forever.
That’s your punishment.“

“Marilyn! I can’t believe it’s you. You’re my favourite. I love you.”

“Of course, you do, my dear. Of course, you do,” she says.
“What’s that fabulous refrain you wrote? It’s so beautiful.”

“I loved you in “The Misfits”. In everything you did.”

“Thanks, sugar,” she says. “Let’s sing that song.
We’ll be walking a long, long time.”

Come on, everybody, let’s take an overdose.
This Earth sucks the big one,
I think it’s pretty gross.
Pricks and wackos ‘round every bend.
It’s enough to drive you crazy
And go off the deep end.

We trudge into oblivion, together.
The swirling, glorious nothingness enflames and engulfs us.
Iridescent Gold and Silver shimmers and burns our souls.