Lemme Cook

For I am far from finished;
I’ve only yet begun to make
Mine katabasis
By abstract painted numbers
Just like Christ & Dante
& Tom Sawyer before me.

This descent descant
Into the socalled Wunderwurld
Could commence a jolly holiday
If not for its utmost importance
To the epic Jethro
A candy clown in leading weeds
Supposed to survive the experience
Plus thus come up again
Much changed–
Resulting in Rome’s founding
Or some such shite.

Instead I wander the dark dungeon
Durance Vile for days
Only to emerge amidst the Overstory
With nuthin but one dumb joke
To show for it.

So it goes:
Seems a sinful man had died
(perhaps he wuz
(the world’s worst president ever
(perhaps not)
& so he wuz
Being shown round Hell
By the Devil Himself.

By & by
They came to three doors,
Which the Debbil prefaced by saying,
“Choose ye this day
“Thy final fate
“Wherein thou willst spend
“From here to Eternity.”

Behind Door #1:
The poor souls burnt
In an everlasting eponymous Hellfire.

Behind Door #2:
The poor souls froze so cold
Their tongues stuck to flagpoles.

& lastly–

Behind Door #3:
Neither lady nor tiger wuz to be seen
But rather a gathering of likewise souls
Up to their armpits
In the most execrable excrement
Standing round
Drinking coffee & eating donuts.

Well the smell was terrible
The reek of feces
Plus also flies,
But as lesser evils go
Door #3
Wuz a shady oasis
Compared to forever freezing 
Or eternal burning.

Tootsweet the sinner made his choice,
& nodding knowingly
The Debble Himself
Bent to make a trumpet of his arse
Thereby alaruming:
“Coffee break’s over, folks,
“Stand on yr head!”

Nuff said.