The Light goes Out

(The prompt mentioned 'the last word'. It made me think of last words. My cousin Max passed away this month. At the funeral, my heart ached to hold my wife and never let go. The challenge of a Villanelle mentioned the famous example of Dylan's  "The Dying of the light". This is what come out.)

"With a flash the light goes out"
For the cowboy shot it in my western book.
Yeehaw! it makes me want to shout.

Oh baby! It makes me want to shout.
She lassoed me with one sweet sultry look.
Now I'd do anything to stop her pout.

I knew I wanted her without a shred of doubt.
She hangs her bathrobe on the bedroom door hook.
With a flash the light goes out.

Hallelujah! It makes me want to shout.
As the candle of time warms our little nook.
I must suck it's marrow while the moment is about.

For I know there's one desperado I can not rout.
It is death, that pale silent crook.
Curse you! It makes me want to shout.
With a sigh the light goes out.

Hallmark Shakespeare

(I once tried to read a page of Othello to a friend with bad vocabulary, and my two young nieces. "I will never get it" ,one said. I began translating/paraphrasing it in words they understood. Today I am trying probably his most famous speech from Hamlet--to be or not to be)

To live or die, mmmmm?

Is it braver to take the bad stuff life throws at you, to choose life,

or fight the bad stuff by choosing to end it all?

 To die and look like you're peacefully sleeping.

To stop the pain and problems of living sounds like a good idea for a moment.

Is death like being asleep? Do you dream?

Yep, these two opposing ideas will chafe your mind raw.

If death is like sleep and you dream, you don't know what kind of dreams you have.

Really makes you stop and think.

It's not being sure that makes a long life kind of sad.

If you knew all the bad stuff in your life, like:

The scars time leaves on your body and soul,

Or how mean bosses and bullies can be,

Or how many arrogant jerks you'll meet,

Or how painful rejection and lost love is,

Or how little justice is in a legal system that doesn't help in time if at all,

Or how corrupt, lazy, or unfeeling those in authority can become, 

Or what a kick in the behind it is when you work hard and do good,

Yet some undeserving snake insults you and takes the credit or profit themselves.

Maybe if you tore open your shirt and plunged an actual knife in your heart,

They would all shut up and leave you alone--make your own peace.

Why do we choose to sweat and grunt under the heavy burden of this weary life?

It is the dreadful fear of something after death.

Death is a foreign place we have never personally experienced.

It is a one-punch permanent ticket with a no return policy.

That is what confuses the mind and makes the will run around in circles.

We end up putting up with the bad stuff in life,

rather than blindly jumping into an open grave with no safety net.

Our conscience makes cowards of us all.

The original bold plan to end it all is watered down by fearful thoughts.

So to keep from following through with it or even thinking about it,

We find a hobby or project that seems important and takes a lot of energy.

I better quit talking to myself, I hear my girl coming. She's so pretty.

When she prays, it's probably all about things I've done wrong.