The Work of a Comedian

I critique paradise,
But I understand Wallace Steven's metaphor---
What does that say?

A false happiness---I never said I was happy---
Those are my thoughts.
What paradise can be made here?
Truly? If you made bad decisions like I have?

Sure, I am contented with poetry
And musings---
Would great riches or fame appease my desire?
No.
Would a womb?
Yes, partly.
Would the very paradise which your comedian critiques?
Hopefully so... for this life is vain and hollow
And though the mind's eye is the great thing
That has given me respite in this life---
Imagining the great game I could conjure
From my books, which men would be steeped in like real life---
I know a game supplants imagination
For now humans create their own stories
Through their games, and all knowledge
Is to exert willpower over  others
And win their games and cheat.