This is the story of Marty McCray
And all the strange things that happened that day,
Untimely transpired when he started to say
The Meaning of Life, the Vision, the Way
He posted the date for the whole town to meet
They were certainly excited and felt in for a treat
In one place they gathered and emptied the streets
For now it was time to hear his great speech
Slowly he rose from a respectable seat
Then, out of sorts, viewed his very own feet
Was he thinking of time… they’re no longer so fleet?
Was he mentally separating the chaff from the wheat?
Then spinning three times like a clock in reverse
Like a dancer he was, no motion perverse
His grace so admired, his timing rehearsed
But suddenly things obviously turned for the worse
When he dropped to the floor like a lady’s old purse
They suspected he needed the help of a nurse
No putting it mildly (I know it’s quite terse)
See Marty, that day… was in need of a hearse
But before I go on I should set the stage
For Marty was on one because he was a Sage
The diplomas, the letters, the titles of age
And incomparable wisdom, too extensive to gauge
He was an inventor of things that were needed that year
Like a speaker designed so that others could hear
The way that one sounds to one’s very own ear
Broadcasting true signals such that intentions were clear
He invented a projector that projects his own vision
So others could see crisply with his eyes’ precision
Directly understanding how he sees no division
And experiencing the perfection of the ultimate decision
The crowd was disquieted – and that’s saying the least
“What shall we do now our love’s heartbeats have ceased?!”
“When appetite is lost, there’s no sense in the feast.”
“Shall we prep for the funeral, must we call the priest?”
But then from the crowd came a sensible plan
His cue cards still there, now cold in his hand
“Let’s study the message of this honorable man,
and deliver his lecture as he no longer can.”
And each read to oneself, to avoid leading astray
On one card it read: “We are gathered here today,”
(For he always recommended starting this way
“Well the beginning should start with what’s known,” he’d say)
The scene was now set in everyone’s mind
They expected a rising to follow in kind,
Then climax and falling, as one naturally finds
In rhetorical treatments that put Past, behind
“Place the next card in view, if you would so please”
For this, they knew, would set mourning minds at ease
A single word written in bold made them freeze
The word was “Therefore”… please trust I don’t tease
There were only two cards, and it baffled them so
“We don’t understand, and we may never know!”
Then the projector light warmed and started to glow
A large wall, once blank, was now the main show
Brightly displayed, a face of leather complexion
The cheerful old eyes with whites of confection
Smile beaming so grand, it filled all with affection
The Meaning of Life was a simple recollection
Image credit: Pencil and Red Ink Drawing, Anonymous, Italian (19th century)
Primitive Joe 
