the funeral awakes…

the-funeral-awakes

each
of
the tears
that press
tight
against
your skin
is
a memory
of the life
we now
mourn
some
like youth
move quickly
from eye
to chin
others
like
a first kiss
slowly
move
from eye
to lips
salty
but
sweet
others
like
random memories
move without
true course
to the ground
falling without
a single sound
and there
they
stay
like all
who leave
the womb

k – eternity…

k - eternity

aunt bea
said
i have written
the instructions
for my funeral
in crayon
i felt
that my first
and
final documents
should have
something
in common
another
feature
should be
simplicity
initially
i just scratched out
my name
nothing fancy
small letters on
your grandmother’s wallpaper
rather unappreciated
however
quite easy to
cover up
so
i want folks to
keep it simply
my life
was my testimony
no need
to ramble on
or
shed tears
cause dear
i’m not there
to hear
nor
is anyone else
just do
what needs
to be done
and
go out
and
have some fun
cuz’
i be at
my own party
dancing
and
laughing
’bout
what
i got to do
for
so many
years

crow’s nest…

crow's nest

after reading
an advert for
pre-arranged funerals
aunt bea
said
when
i die
i’ve decided
to delay
my ascension
that’s
an assumption
on my part
but
i want
to hang around
and watch
those
suddenly concerned
distant relatives
cry at my funeral
with tears
dredged
from their
deepest fears
of having been
left out
of my will
then
casually
watching them
fight over
a few
meaningless
and
quite worthless
possessions
not listed
to anyone
in particular
as an inheritance
something
which i did
on purpose
thinking
it would
prove to be
quite
entertaining
from
a
celestial view

daily routine…

multi-colored hearses
transport
bodies
mummified
in corporate mortuaries
along
well-worn paths
to fool’s gold
moving
the breathing corpses
from one
dimly lit
platform
to
another
while
tearless mourners
gather
along
the funeral’s
procession route
a route
to
unremarkable
graves
in the suburbs

no buttons to push…

copyright 2012 cwmartin

aunt bea said
i do not
need
to live
another lifetime
this one
has been
long enough
i’ve survived
all these years
with the grace
of god
and
a willingness
to ignore
every fool
i’ve met
who’s attempted
to manipulate
my fundamental beliefs
managing
to maintain
who
i am
in spite of
those folks
who’ve
proclaimed
i was
not
beholding
enough
to them
as extensively
as
their egos
needed
and
i really
don’t mind
that they’ve said
they won’t come
to my funeral
because of that
i will
not
be giving
autographs
anyway

lone wolf’s lament…

this is not the place
that was your father’s
these woods hold
bones older than
your history
each tree marks
a fallen warrior
black elk knew of them
calling upon the spirits
to receive their brothers
and sisters in death
to guide them safely
to a land of peace
not one of war
nor into stolen mountains
flowing with streams of tears
nor torched prairie villages
now no more than smoke
carried away in the night
only brother wolf
was left
to lament
as the funeral
procession
passed by
to an unwanted
desert
away from
this sacred
and
holy
place

please mark the calendar for them…

in a note to god
marked
for thine eyes only
i have requested
as humbly as i could
that my death
be placed on a schedule
that my friends could see
this would assure
that those wishing to attend
my funeral party
would have ample time
to shower
shave the appropriate areas
have a beer or two
in my behalf
and then slowly traverse
to the appointed place
well dressed
without any stress
i mean
it’s not like
i’d be going
anywhere

china doll…

 

once the source of laughter
on a christmas eve 
bringing a child’s face aglow
as if sprinkled with glittery star dust
now homeless
an aging inhuman artifact
unceremoniously wedged between
a copy of modern medicine
and an article on dying with dignity
residing along a deserted road
abandoned with childish disregard
now her constant companions
an old black and white tv
and her well-worn reclining chair
that stand guard over her
as if an attending physician
her eyes are now vacant
so many promises of god’s redemptive grace
yet the steady throbbing of pain
every solar rotation
every eclipse of the sun
the pain remains
she wonders
when does one die
is it when the heart stops
or
is this
it