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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