If each and every end-life storyline
were given voice to tell what's next to come,
there'd be no end. To sort and examine,
this diamond mine of balderdash and rot,
a self would surely be both numb and dumb
to choose one from this dreamer's pile of squat.
What happens after death is just a guess,
and powerless, is how I'd rate our lot.
Still, some would play a karmic game of chess
in hopes of gaining grace ahead of time,
to have some voice before the mortal plot
plays out. A clear and conscious mind is prime,
and shaped by ardent focus on what bleeds
one's psychic force. Unchallenged habits crown
the list of enemies. The many greeds
and gluttonies that sleeping men okay
themselves, transforms their world a stinky brown.
More conscious light is this games only way.
If mistaken, and next life proves this wrong,
then who has lost a dime? Go smoke and drink
your sad ass off. Go lie and cheat. Go prong
your neighbors wife, and steal when no one sees.
No matter what, don't teach yourself to think,
and you can die as stupid as you please.