Bury Poems

when i'm dead, bury me with party ring biscuits

in a leather jacket
birthday cake sandwiches help 
clear my sinuses
Googly Hancock; and backseat baristas 
Bob Dylan is back in the studio
did he pop out to the shops? Where's he been?
Big Daddy Kane outside Dapper Dan's - 
You tossed a coin in the fountain
Wishing to be as happy as a blue cat
storckappopotamus 
there will be no

Geronimo - 1829-1909

1905
Geronimo went to Washington
to meet the Great White Father
(where he hoped to bury the hatchet)
and save his Indian Nation...
checking into his hotel, the desk clerk asked,
"Do you have a reservation?"
The perfect poker face when playing cards
(his guards were nearly always broke)
said to be blood-thirsty, his winnings used he
to pay for educating children of the Apache.
He

things that thrill

the
three things 
that t h r i l l
                                   b e a t        

Ceasars Funeral

‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears: I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.’
(Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 2)


Antony was happy to bury Julius~ Cleopatra was now his
All of those ears~ must have been a lot of odd looking Romans
My question is~ would Antony give them all back?

Could I bury my head in your chest bones?

Unlike the smell of rain on country road sediment
I can not find the tears to make my trauma relevant
There is no sweet scent found in my complex petutlance
I wish my mind quiet; when its thoughts are all Old Testament
This level of self-loathing; to date, has no precedence
Though all my acts of selflessness have never afforded

Bury me, my love

Bury me, my love, in a lead coffin
To not hear the rustle of the poplars,
Not to hear the noise of the world,
Until I rot completely.

Bury me, my love, in a corner of the cemetery
To be far from other dead,
To be hidden by the thick earth,
Without seeing the beautiful sky.

Bind me, my love, with heavy chains
So

Bury Me

Threnody dirges miseries
Severance of machinations
The gravedigger’s shovel buries
These coffin crypt lamentations
Lachrymose welts filling levees
Life’s vile xenotransplantations
Psychopomp as a wraith’s whisper
Dust swept away by a zephyr

Don't Bury Courtesy On the Political Prairie -Based on Western Ballad

Oh don’t bury courtesy 
on the political Prairie. 

Where politicians rant
And tell words I can’t; 

Say in a crowd 
or even whisper out loud. 

Oh bury courtesy not on the political Prairie. 

Where the politicians howl
and untruths flow free.

Oh bury courtesy not!

These words came loud and pleading 
from many citizenry. 

But they took no heed
those

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee

During the Civil War, money came late,
Indians starved, left to their fate.
Two braves came across a white farmer's food.
They were hungry and stressed and in a bad mood.

Little Bear picked up an egg, Grey Elk said no.
Some things we can't do, some places can't go.
This is a white man's farm; we can't be here.
Little Bear

Bury Me

Bury me under the tree
Just mentally, so you can forget
Easily where exactly 
I lie, and what tree is that
Bury me like I’m a seed
Put me into the pot
I’ll be a pepper, or an orchid
Just anything what you want
It’s nice on a window sill
I don’t have to talk or wait
So it’s not with me you will
Speak

Bury me deep

Bury me deep in the earth's embrace,
Let my flesh and bones find their resting place,
Where willows weep and their branches sway,
And sprouts of life emerge, night and day.

In the soil's cradle, let my body lie,
Where secrets whisper and shadows sigh,
To nourish the earth, my final gift,
As nature's cycle begins to uplift.

Let the willow's roots, like

Bury Me No More

Bury me no more
As I've put up a funeral in my head
And engraved the words I want to say and can't, 
in the concrete tombstone


If you live in my head, you'd know
But  you don't! 

Engine's on when I'm off put
So even when in between
it feels very more than periphery

Revenant

Dank
darkness
was always
settled around.
It was all I knew
of the near universe.
Stale, stifling, suffocating
in my broken and spilt trundle
leaving bitter, morbidly clammy
earth enshrouding my body and being.

A crack in the soil, or in time perhaps.
Slivers of light split the filthy floor,
crawled over ornate catafalque,
and continued its approach,
like winter's blinding ice,
to my exposed bones.
Warming flesh grew
and coursed with
new

Let the Dead Bury Their Dead

It’d be different if I had no regrets
But I’m too old for that

It’d be different if I had never hedged a bet
But I know that too

It’d be different if I could really say I made a difference
But I can’t really say

It’d be different if I had been the one not to conform
But the truth gets

Bury Me No More

Bury Me no more
As I've put up a funeral in my head
And engraved the words I want to say and can't, in the concrete tombstone

If you live in my head, you'd know
And you don't
Engine's on when I'm off put
So even when in between
it feels very more than periphery

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