A Bug's Life They really have it made; they don't have to worry about work or women loneliness, futility or despair. They don't worry about anything. There is no work for them-- just walking and eating; because the world is their feast with more than enough to go around, all for free. Love may not be love but it comes easy. There's just male and female and sex as a matter of course. There's no courtship, no need to impress; and even if there is, do you think that bug cries at night depressed over being rejected? The bug who finds no lover just goes merrily back to eating. They don't have to think about God; they don't have to think about anything. No stress exists for them when it comes to finding their place. Their place is to walk, eat, have sex, and die, and no bug stays awake at night because he's lost his way. Their life of brainless instinct may seem dull to most-- moving thoughtless through your days devoid of higher and deeper emotion; but the bugs have that figured out too. They live and die in a day or a week. If theirs is a life of misery, at least it's over soon.
Wow man, very insightful. Really good prose piece about the simplicity of a bug's life. Just crawlin' and fuckin' and searchin' for food. Yeah, man.
very good piece only one thing bothers me "they don't have to worry about work or women" the latter is true but the former, well, lots of bugs need to work, not all, but like ants and termites and other bugs that live in societies and spiders building and repairing webs and such i don't mean to be anal about that one thing, because i love the poem
Thanks. It was the lack of worry i was getting it, not the lack of work. Though I put the lie to that in the second stanza, saying there is no work...hmm. Well, I claim poetic liberty.
