Is Joy Simply A Ploy?

Ever notice how joy is subject to all? Of course you did at your hall. Unless you live under a rock. Then that may come as a shock. But can some things even be joy? They can't be as fun as my mouse on a string toy.

Work 80 hours a week.
It is dough you seek.
But can't spend it until you're dead.
Hmmm conundrum of dread?

Eat and eat and eat.
That is some tasty treat.
Grow the size of a tree.
Heart attack, you're dead to me.

Drive really fast,
Like the Dukes of Hazzard cast.
One little jump,
Oopsy, a crushed rump.

Drink and drink and drink.
Not the stuff from the sink.
Although that can make one shiver.
Still wave bye bye to your liver.

Buy everything you want.
Those sales just taunt.
Oopsy, broke as can be.
Goodbye house, hello tree.

Watch this and that,
24/7 at your mat.
Rump grows wider,
Death by channel spider?

Dirt, dirt and more dirt.
You would rather flirt.
That is pure gold.
Oopsy, death by mold.

Lottery tickets by the ton.
You are going to win the big one.
Hmm spent a big one,
And won nothing when done.

Dare, dare, dare.
What do you care?
Do what others say.
They aren't the ones that will drown in the bay.

Excuse, Excuse, Excuse.
Could lead to brain abuse,
Or just all of the above.
After all, do what you love.

Wow, you humans sure enjoy odd things. I would except by now you all think you have wings. One crazy spree deserves another. Did your brain get a little pillow smother? The cat would rather just eat grass. But I suppose that could choke my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.