Apply to the 120 club. As soon as you join, just say: “I’m not going to die”, adding, “So far, so good”.
Dying’s annoying.
You’re enjoying the party
Then you have to leave.
You can ignore it
But death can be insistent.
Here are some options:
‘Do not go gentle
Into that good night’. Meaning?
Shout on your death-bed?
They’d tranquillize you.
…Try to sublimate your fear
Of death by killing?
Soldiers enjoy this
But it’s counterproductive
To keep cloning death.
Here’s an old stand-by:
‘I believe God will solve it
I won’t really die.’
Well, some grief-stricken
Wishful thinking on gravestones
Isn’t really proof.
Alternatively,
Your last hope of life is to
Apply to this club:
The 120 club.
No need to change your life-style
In any fashion.
All its rules are lax.
No one minds if you die
At 117.
As soon as you join
Just say: “I’m not going to die”
Adding, “So far, so good”.
But, should you cave in,
Get up and hide your body
So no one finds it.
Written by Heatcote Williams in June 2011
Mr. Eternity
Words by Heathcote Williams. Narration and video by Mary Wild