Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.133.116.221
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I once asked auntie, ‘why oh why.
Don’t your relatives come to us?
We could have a nice service.
And spread the ashes in the sea!’

Auntie smiled at me that day.
As she gave that last ash filled package away.
And everyone was so kind too.
As handed an envelope to auntie for the next auntie’s ashes true.

Anyway she told me, ‘it would be wrong’
As her way, all have a fair share.
Well, I could not argue with that, could I?
As I seen the scales, she weighs auntie’s ashes on there.

By there I mean in her room.
From which I’m banned. I must confess.
As if I go in, while auntie is weighing one day.
The draft from the door would blow auntie auntie’s ashes away. 

Now my morphine is kicking in.
I’ve had an idea to mention here.
If our country have got £50 million worth of good coke!
Why not sell it to addicts I quote.

They would know the dope is pure.
Would not cost so much to smoke I’m sure.
Then money from the sale could go.
To help our government’s coffers so!

The government can send more money out.
To Councils so they can have far more clout!

Oh!  Auntie has asked me to find out.
If government are going to burn that dope!
As if they do, and mixed up in it.
Is some poor person who tried to swindle it!

All her relatives want to attend.
The crematorium or incinerator,
 to pay their last respects, 
to an unknown friend!

Auntie said.  ‘All will stand well down wind.’
I tried to explain that would not be right.

But auntie had a glint in her eye.
And auntie said, ‘son, one must pay respects.

As some dope might die alone on 
Now I must try and get some sleep.
As I’m driving auntie again, 
tomorrow this week!!!

All that, because £50 million worth of heroin was washed up on our coast a couple of days ago.  As you can imagine auntie is very upset and has taken to her room again.
I managed to get downstairs sitting on my bottom one step at a time and returned the same way.  I think I’m in bed to stay today.  And as I look out my window, there is light covering of that cold stuff called snow, so I’m glad I’m not driving Clarence anywhere today you know.  And now it’s time to have my tablets and breakfast in bed, is so.  Then a third dose of morphine and to dream world I just might go.  Stanley.  (The new mad Author.)
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required