Guts & Goo

I woke up dead the other day
And I was quite surprised
For being dead is something
Which I generally despise
My skin was cold and clammy
My complexion ghastly dim
As I lay within my coffin
My outlook was rather grim

I heard a knock below me
Then a door popped open wide
And I tried to find my balance
As I nearly fell inside
What appeared to be a banquet hall
With zombies through and through
And they gave me warmest welcome
As they ate their guts and goo

“Welcome, friend,” said one old zombie
As he took me by the arm
His old bones, they clanked and rattled
Thereby adding to his charm
He was missing his left eye
His bare jawbone protruded out
His best friend was an earthworm named Jim
Who perched upon his snout

“How do you like being dead?” he said
“So far I’ve been aghast.”
“Death is what you make it,” he replied.
“How so?” I asked
“Down here there are awesome wonders – So much here to see and do.”
Then he sat down at the table
With his bowl of guts and goo

A dead waiter stood beside me
And began to fill my bowl
With a mucky, foul concoction
Which I’m sure was best served cold
I sat staring at the potion
That I did not dare to taste
“Take a bite,” my new friend said to me.
“Don’t let it go to waste.”

At first, I was reluctant
It did not look appetizing
Though when I took the first bite
The taste was really quite surprising
Though the soup did not look edible
I ate with much surprise
I am certain Id felt different
If my taste buds were alive

So take this as a lesson
As you walk above the ground
As for all you picky eaters
Who won’t eat what is profound
Be it France, or Spain or Italy
Always try something new
For one day the only thing you’ll eat
Are bowls of guts and goo

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