Post Mortem

Post Mortem Did you hear them sing dirge: When the world comes crashing down on me, Did you hear those voices across the divide? A cacophony of tormented brain All dead and moldy like forgotten bread, Dust to dust, Ashes to ashes; Their lives begin to wan As ashes from their burning hemp bush That is just about what it is, Their lives nailed with needle and shot away And all the dark sores, Spun a tangles tale of million arms When this madness finally settle like death, And after all the soaring High up like a bird, After all the falling, sprawling supine And whimpering, eyes dilating, Groaning like tired door After all the hours in the back-rooms, Of walking nights In dark corner streets Of knives that flash deviance To stark-eyes victims The spiting cough from over laboured guns, All for propitiation for the spirits Of their consuming gods, After all of these Someone still got his addict soaking brain splash Out to foul the air A tormented, yet a nice sleep. Then commence that shout across the divide, Help! Liberate this soul from That which diminishes From this quagmire, the deadness; Of imprison moments. And that is just all With tip of match sticks They measured out their life And got filled up their nostrils Exploded into the abyss And a dirge: when the world comes Crashing down on me.