Flying Purple Pigs?

It wasn't easy, standing under the street lamp, dancing alone in the dark. It wasn't working you see. But I was desperate to make a stand. You must think I’m weird standing for a street light that didn’t work. Good.

It all came down to this: flying purple pigs and orange jumpers. There is nothing more rudimentary in Life’s perception than something so psychedelic and so sadistic as flying purple pigs, and orange jumpers.

Do not wonder why the comma in the last line in the previous paragraph exists. It has a purpose. It needs to. Just like I need to or that poor street lamp.

But do we really need to?

All life is pointless. You live then die and spend the intervening time worrying about life, the universe and everything. And the purposelessness of little innocent commas, and of course flying purple pigs and orange jumpers.

Quite a STRANGE term, isn’t it? Kinda like a phrase that’s trying too hard to be an oxymoron but can’t quite make it.

But back to the street lamp.

It stood outside my house lonely. Moths used to gather around it and flitter away pointlessly until they died. Reminds me of a poem that started, “When I consider how my life is spent….”

But moths are not really blind. Like bats. Who can still SEE. They just die. Pointlessly.

But back to the point.

It was lonely. But it worked. It worked hard to give us light and glory. But no one really noticed it. I used to sit underneath it for awhile everyday after the moths left to do their nightly duties. Read a book. An expression of words that may or may not impact you.

Then one day it stopped. God knows why. Or perhaps He in his infinite wisdom, doesn’t. Does He even know anything? Does He even exist? Why should a poor lamp suffer for this ignorance?

Ignorance is bliss said someone. Debate for another day.

So now I sit beneath this lost and lonely lamp wondering. Mind wandering.