The Prophet of Gloom

And there we squatted, us kindred souls
In the middle of a desert, or a valley perhaps,
In complete silence, not a rustle nor a sigh
Except the bellowing of some elephants nearby.
And as the skies darken, and the evening unfolds
We sit here with the sound of our shriveled souls
Brushing quietly against the rough winds of time
Forever unheard.
(Quite poetic that, though lacking in rhyme.)

And as the skies darkened, (have I said this before?)
The seagulls hearkened as the thunders sparkened,
Our souls grew heavy with memories galore.
And just when we thought there was no further room
For that kind of thing, arrives the Prophet of Gloom.

We thought of suicide, but there wasn't any tide
To wash away our bodies, nor pistols in sight,
Nor ropes nor rivers, it gave us the shivers -
Only 5 milligrams of sleeping pills!
And no electrocution too-
Damn them electricity bills.

This is not a funny poem, you see
At least it never was meant to be.
The product of tormented sleepless nights,
With a healthy smattering of mosquito bites
Supposed to be dealing in profound insights
But the Prophet spake thus (and, who knows, he may be right):

"The wisdom of you apes
Lusting after fornication
And fermented grapes,
Is useful no more
Than a menopausal whore.
(Forgive my language -
My folks always swore.)
A life with no meaning, no purpose either
Except maybe to have a fling, hither and thither.
Love, you say?  Er, well, yes, some of that
[At this point the Prophet coughed and spat.]
So there's no need for anger, see? There's no need for blame
(That's inspired from your poet, Bobby De Lame)
Just be what you may, and if you must know
Your freedom is the gradient that makes the winds blow.

Look into the Darkness, Holy Words ye shall see -
Shine on, you crazy LED."