It is degrading to be human!

Dung beetle or fox, very well!
But human...

Homo sapiens' potential for intelligence
is unbecoming a being born in screams, shouts
and blood;
dying in stinking putrefaction,
overlooked by uninterested blue-collar workers
with hang-overs
and the latest version of Covid-19
- or lit, flamed and incinerated
between coffee breaks
by farting relief workers
at the city crematory

It is degrading to be human!

No, Homo sapiens' IQ average
doesn't suite the in-and-out existence
of this loosely assembled hunk
of cells and bacteria
in a skin suit
with individuality
as a fatal drug

It is degrading to be human!

A happy-go-lucky post-graduate
who understands decay
and poetry
and the pluralistic pains of being,
swarming him
dressed in costumes of screwing
and scruples,
comes across
as the cardinal error of Evilution

It is degrading to be human!

A cup of holy wrath
and the point of a knife's
sharp-edged poetry
come in handy,
or, for that matter,
war and randomized religion,
but a straight Ingemar Johansson right
in everything's everywhere
will also do,
for existence has all to many sympathizers

I drug myself
with shiny black ravens
and weighty, wobbly women
with blurry faces
in troubled time scales
and driving rain

So be it!

It is degrading to be human!

I cut down on thinking
and eavesdrop on the tricks
of the shaman bass drum
in the moist interior
of the rib cage;
muffled, ominous,
destined for failure
at the very last moment