A Wastoid Speaks, Jaded ‘R us.

  

Coming to a graveyard near you. . . . . as Beetlejuice sits on a tomb-stone and shrugs his shoulders impishly if asked “what gives him the right”.

It takes a dark kind of soul to hang-out in a graveyard and over come the gothic kids and black metal fans in face-paint and simmering defiance as Beetlejuice welcomes them with open arms. Seem kind of young– and stupid too.

Kids always find it gratifying when adults take an interest in them. Beetlejuice could be 40 or 4000 years old with the allure of beer and cigarettes, dodging respectability. You’d call him a con-artist or bunco man as his creative reach doesn’t extend much further than using a stick to lift-up the skirt of Barbara Maitland. In craft and guile– it’s not much higher than what you’d see down at a flea market for petty thievery and other tall tales.

Putrescent rot and decay. . . . . drawn to mischief like flies to a pile of shit as a scheme is working through his putrid noggin as he’s devilishly fond of contracts.

He will give you knowledge. . . . . for a price.

What is the secret? Maybe the big answer is that there’s not really an answer– and you sell your soul to find out. It’s like “fine print”, or death– or no such thing “as a free lunch”. What will you find out? Maybe that “no matter where you go, THERE YOU ARE” as it couldn’t be any simpler or more grotesque than “free will” and “spiritual limbo”.

So what are you gonna do? Get wise, get older– “settle-down”. The world of carny’s, roadies, and trailer-living turns out to be more dreary than flashy as there we are, all giving an account for ourselves with our hands shrugged-out in the rotten perfume of wasted youth. For those who don’t believe in elder’s wisdom– soon you will become the elders and it all goes full circle as the land of death lays beyond.

What is death like? Maybe a Department of Motor Vehicles as you’re processed like a flat, laminated card until all the life is drained-out. Our miseries duly counted, not worth one whit as part of being an adult is taking responsibility while setting-aside some free time.

Sincerely, a jaded/post-teenaged poet.