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Every Day Now Death Surrounds Me

Oh old man
now Lovedly

tell me frankly
are you coming
along with me

wait I say more to accompany you
I am not as old as were you /

These three months today
half a dozen pals kith and kin
pets and loving friends
are enjoying the
funerals Vikings

They say come it's all fun
no need of earthly pun
for that kinda fun
just come

I have now decided to tighten my belt
LEST upon their loving shoulders
I too now rest like a heavy gun
Coming Sir just coming
you will need me
I know without me
who will polish you as much as did

OKAY just coming

Just wait for me

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Can any one born of a mom avoid the finale- Death-- Just say
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Sometimes things cut weirdly, and I don't really know what the poem is trying to say

is his imagination
endeavor man

author comment

Made me think about the context of passing, so much of that going on these days, world-wide.

What was present for you in your thinking when you wrote it?

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This is a dispargement of growing old and dying. These last three months have been all about funerals for relatives, friends and pets. He says that he worries about being next. Those that have gone before him aren't as old as he is, so why are they dead and not he? He wonders about being dead, is there really an after-life, where if you have been a good person, you enjoy an all wonderful afterlife? No, we cannot avoid death; either physical or the eventual forgotten, barely remembered fame of the immortals of one kind or another. Who in a thousand years will remember Shakespeare or Remy etc... In two thousand years anyone of us will be nothing more than a curiousity, no matter how famous we were. Such is life and the aftemath. ~ Geez.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

u r too good for me
hope now others will also read and understand it

We all must keep our umbrellas handy
just in case it rains at our funerals
THERE'S nooooooo afterlife
we all become a plastic bag
full of ashes
ask any docy
for more

author comment
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