Burn Me Now

This life wants a poem, the kind that will fly
seen somewhere printed on starry parchment skies
“the ride is never enough!”, Jon lies & cries
desiring a cast of who, what, where, and why

feeling bored & lonely, accosted by no one,
the blues sound good & the drama is fun
it creates a sense of time spinning by the sun,
when all he wants to know is, “when can I be done?”

I attach & detach, transforming through time
a few lines to indulge, enjoyed like cheap wine
when the movie is over, the tape has to rewind
so I roll the credits to see who plays you & I

falling like leaves, this & that go
things dissolve, dispersed to & fro
the curtain is ashes; there is no show
after all is said, who is left to know?

the whole of life is blooming just as a flower
but poor Jon is wilting, he’s dead by the hour!
So weep not for me, for me is a coward
and always cheer for I, because I am power.

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

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