Suicide for the Lethally Fashionable
by Tommy George
Suicide for the Lethally Fashionable
Leave ‘em mourning happily
A Thousand Words in 106 Lines of Doggerel
Suitable for Graphic Development,
Omnimedia Production, Distribution, and Dissemination
Despair of living commonly blunders,
confusing such transient states
as anguishfor love cast asunder
with a permanently miserable fate;
it vows to trade a ruined life
for death's delusive opportunity.
It ransacks drawers for guns and knives,
and carries on most luna-toonily.
Good taste suggests we all refrain
From shooting a bullet through our brain.
Such self-inflicted, vulgar blasts
Are closing lines for a lower caste.
Of the mess-making corpse it is often said,
The damned dumb cluck is better off dead.
When sensibilities of famous name
discover drear their wealth and fame--
the never-ending, prosaic deprivations--
Even icons weary of adulation.
The worst would swap its confining berth
For a death as memorable as Jesus, pierced.
Yet among the
competition for remembrance is overheated.
Suicide seems an unreliable option,
How easily self-killing might flop!
apply it, don't merely try it,
Consider these ABC’s for a while.
Decamp with style: leave ‘em weeping happily,
and ever memorious of your fabled rictus smile!
Auto-exhaust from your Bentley
Will deliver a rosy skinned corpse.
Take a long trip in your closed garage
but buckle up first, of course.
Bungee jumping with a tattered cord
will make you a viral video smash.
Be sure your life insurance is paid
leave your young widow with plenty of cash.
Cops will give you a newsworthy death
When you flash your realistic toy gun.
Simply crouch and point it. Scream "Die, Flatfoot, die!"
Wave it wildly, spring and lunge.
Defenestration can be public service
if done from a high enough story.
Storm right into your agent's office
and toss him out before ye.
Exposure to the numbing cold
will end your mood ‘o’ doom.
Hide until the market closes,
then stretch out in frozen foods.
Flaming Buddhists self-immolate
to protest unjust laws.
Drench yourself with Courvoisier
and flambé for your favorite cause.
Gangstas of commercial persuasion
will pop you for a price.
Tell 'em you want ‘em to drop you fast
You'll be gone like Vanilla Ice.
Hanging by the neck until you’re dead
Will soil your Armani britches
Hang yourself by your feet instead
And spit up for them bitches.
Invocation of Great Satan
Oft' lays the bold caller to waste.
Why not conjure Martha Stewart?
Show a little taste.
Jurists in a homicide case
Will prescribe a lethal injection.
Be sure their needle's clean and safe
or you might get infection.
Knives across the wrists and such
Smack of adolescent cliché.
Why not Hari-Kari on Halloween
In your wife’s sexy lingerie?
Lovers' pacts of suicide
transcend the world through passion
To die intertwined as one climactic soul
Will always be the height of fashion.
requires a ton of smoke
Should it fail to kill you quickly
At least you're trying, bloke.
Nobility, grace and courtesy
Have sadly been forgotten.
Summon the town to gang-bang your bottom
and die in the style of Old Sodom.
First, gather your supplies;
Then book your suite at Disney World
Won't Mickey be surprised?
Protracted civil law suit versus an S & P defendant
will drain the lifeblood from a giant and his dependents
One caveat that I must mention: Such litigious suicide
May take a score of years or more to finally reify.
Quixotic nuptials will kill the old fool
that buys Beauty’s bed, but dies at stool.
"Tis a far better thing than ere did he pass,"
Sobs his comely, now-rich widow, smacking his ass.
Run ye amok midst the Bilderberg set,
Giggling at each rubbed-out wretch.
Or smarter yet, try flying amok,
Throwing burning bushes down for luck.
Sexual exhaustion can end life's pain
If not turned into a true lovers' game.
Doctors advise that your health may improve,
should you use a live dolly that actually moves.
The lubricious harlot will see to your ending.
Once you’ve accustomed her to unbridled spending,
Cut her off coldly. Go deaf to her raves.
She'll not only kill you, she'll piss on your grave.
Undying devotion to a psychopath lover
whose sperm goes zygotic one way or another,
and becomes a fetal threat to his flamboyance
ee you both killed for such vulgar annoyance.
Voodoo dolls can be very effective
If you are the type of mental detective
Who can't separate fiction from your own fact
You can scare up your own heart attack
Wages of sin will be tendered in hot lead
When underage daughters are found in your bed
In tangles of tribidism directed by you
Unauthorized tweeny-porn kills more than a few.
(squared) is funereal jargon
Routing a mourning man’s “goodbye world” hardon
Into the rear port of his dead lover’s night
As into his own, he loads a lit stick of dynamite
Youthful crack-smoking’s quick-time recreation
Will whisk you quite briskly to your destination
Hang with the wild bunch, go bananas with meth
Til the jungle of young fools indulges your death
Zenophobes are a most hateful lot
Especially to faces of races they’re not.
Be the Yankee of Tehran preaching as
Your larger pieces will eventually turn up, mummified by the sand.
Having completed this lexicon of cutting-edge lethal techniques, I myself begin to feel despondent. Truly, nothing remains for Tommy George . . . but to test them all, one by one. I ask that my research-oriented readers try out as many of these show-stopping scenarios as they can manage. Please report the results to me in care of this publication--or have your next of kin notify us. I am particularly interested in how they are received by family, friends, fanclubs, and funeral directors. Once they all have been tried and rated, I pledge personally to escape this veil of tears by employing the highest-rated of the lot, and do the deed live on TV for my fans--once I pass the age of 120, and my life begins to lose its zest.
T.G. 3 Jan 2017
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