In the aftermath of the suicide of a Swedish Chief of Police

For Old Time's Sake


This phony phase

feels out of place


Last opportunity for a hello,

all too soon it's time to go


My time is up

hand me that poison cup,

I'll suck it up


and disappear,

get out of here,

won't persevere



I see myself in hindsight

in bleak streaks of insight


In the depths of this death chamber

I suddenly remember

the unity that death will dismember


so mercilessly thrown about,

no more so sturdy, no more stout


but I'm just an organic process,

no more and certainly no less


It happened to red-haired Bess,

it tore up Rudolf Hess


I feel that sour taste

as this total waste

approaches without haste


this body, an intermittent shape and form;

a fleshy sort of storm


quite scary when it dies down,

this side-effective ego clown;


this jester, self-aware, side-effective;

an evolutionary spin-off, bitterly defective


but I'm glad to get rid of my self,

stuck back up on a dusty, evolutionary shelf


I've had this body for old times' sake;

somewhere there's a monk with some gravel to rake


Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 104 times
Written on 2023-02-23 at 10:43

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