"The Dinnerplate of Life, version 3"

By Tristan Arts


Being “One” and Being “Two,” and all their sisters and brothers,

With the last name of “Life” loved to play with each other;

But though the play was good, yea, though it was great,

It was nearing the time when their hunger they’d sate.

Then the dinner bell rings, after plenty of play,

And Being “One” and his siblings sit to eat on that day.


Provider came out with a grin like a beast,

The Mother smiled at Her children gathered to feast.

"Oh My Children, you'll love what's to eat,

I've got a remarkable, wonderful treat!

It’s too good to miss, so tender and plump,

Now be good little children and sit on your rump!"


So One sits down and puts on his napkin,

And checks that his silverware's in place,

Then one of his siblings is quickly brought out,

A sad, painful look on her face;

She is screaming, flailing about, but to escape she is not able,

And so she (the weak) is set (sad and bleak) up on the dinner table.


The axe then falls down,

Her head hits the ground,

And her blood pours over the side;

Then One makes a big grin,

Says "grace!" They dig in,

And eat her all up with pride.


"My my, aren't YOU hungry, My dear little kids, shall you have another?

For I am your loving Provider, I am your loving Mother."

"Yes, please, I shall have more," politely said One Life,

And so too agreed his siblings, for their hunger was ripe;

So Provider smiled at Her young child,

And killed him with Her knife.


Then the other siblings, all with the last name of Life,

Feasted on their sibling's new death;

The Provider is The Mother,

We're all sisters and brothers,

Feeding at Her breast?


Nay, I beg to differ,

That once supple gets stiffer,

Necessity calls for strife;

For the pyre of death,

Where all "lay to rest"

Is the dinner plate of Life.