Bogey
I
Aint goin’ anymore
would like to claim the same
but rely upon you and others
to do same
heavy boots
sturdy spade
choosing the ground
was minded to travel
unorthodox / paradox
did sneak to the place –
entering by the flaky monolithic gate
Tool in hand, above dark, calm at Southern Cemetery, the outskirts of town
though a bunch of vociferous crows
buzz amongst the stones.
II
Stabbing the bearer repeatedly turning over
the green
After lengthy work in the moments foray it was then I left and
floated away
from the scene
III
Time sensed = Time up
I place my part quietly in
Obscure
Time Future
is this absent body sure?
Though I hope you will come
return the soil and sing
songs for me…. Booze, eat dance and parteeeee
Some of you will have sex at the end of the fête –
this TOIL, SWEAT, RELEASE, CelEbraTe
Going to a few as well,
we know how it
drops
in
the
pit and maybe pot
(ill or well smelling with the other congregates)
will drift through the pub or communal hall
and who will dare to say: “Put out the roll of Bogey –
don’t you have any respect for the dead right now?”
Another poem by Skendong: Philosophical Rambling: Your Life, Death, And Existence
Reblogged this on onemillionhouseholds.