A Questiona-pill Existence
Take big pharma’s poison pills
And shove them up your ass.
Give me clean air, pure water,
And plenty of warm sunshine.
Let me touch my food as it grows in the ground;
Let me smell the plants as I break them and harvest their yield.
Balance my life;
Too much work and not enough home and play dull my edge.
Let me use the sun and wind as they are for free
To dry the cleanness from my coverings so I can smell it days later.
What if all we need is buried in nature,
Hidden away in the mystery of simple life?
What if medicine is no longer doing no harm
But carefully studying how to die?
What if our culture has so complicated food and living
That we’re doing the suicide swing thinking it’s a lambada of life?