#69: I'd Rather Pay The Taxes (Death)

You've Heard That Dying's Just A Door,
A Drifting Toward Another Shore,
And So It Might Be, Though Before
You Get To Set Your Sail . . .
You Ought To Peek Into Your Core,
Hotter-'N August In Baltimore.
It Ain't A Scene That You'll Adore.
Damn, It Feels Like Hail!

So, most of the States we'd visited
had taught us a few things,
and a few of them exposed us to
the fear that evil brings.

But no fear had we come to feel
to match the scare t'was put
into our hearts, on entering
a place the map called "Soot."

The Gates of Hell can be no more
a horror than we saw,
where maggots swam in rotting flesh,
and worlds of creatures crawled.

Smoke was swirling 'round the floor,
where snakes and bugs that sting,
slid and slimed, all looking for
a fresh and living thing.

We thought we saw some bleeding walls,
though with the strangest hues . . .
orange and purple gelatinous stuff
would, from the panels, ooze.

Forced inside without our wills
to help us seek escape,
we slogged our way through wormy guts
on toward a back-lit drape.

And then my arm, robotically,
reached out and drew a cord.
The curtains swung and caskets were
the scene they did afford.

Our eyes adjusted to the light . . .
and then, came into view,
some rows of drums and cauldrons, all
topped off with Hellish spew.

A sign was hanging from a drum
as if to advertise
the contents to the luckless who
might gaze upon its prize.

"Pieces of people, and particles spent,
can help you buy some firmament,
receptacles full of your repent . . .
the Devil's own home-brew . . .
will boil and bubble, and then ferment,
and be bottled for a few!

Gone are all your living cares,
pretty cars and home repairs,
investment in the Dow Jones shares,
meant to see you through.
Now the ash of aging's flares
is all that's left of you."

And, in a moment's inspiration,
I turned to look at Jo,
"Ashes to ashes, 'Soot,' my friend,
this State is Death, you know."

I knew I was right, but didn't hear
the Buggy's rumble start.
Instead, it was creaking coffin lids
whose echo jumped my heart.

We couldn't help but look inside
for bodies to be there.
To our surprise those coffin lids
just opened to a stair.

And again, before we could agree
to try this new descent,
we found ourselves pursuing, more,
our weird predicament.

So, just as black as it might look,
and eerie as it smelled,
I guess it was our turn to try
to hike our way to Hell.