Spent my whole life learning how to survive,
Yet never quite learn how to live;
The mountains, the rivers, the wildflowers wait,
With a beauty I fail to receive.
Too short to live, too long to die;
Quite easy to be hurt, too hard to cry.
I can easily surpass violent storms,
Yet fail to fit into these social norms.
I beg of you, set me free, unbind my soul,
Let me write, roam, and sing without a role;
I do not wish to merely spend my days,
Not live a life confined to borrowed ways.
And when I die,
Please don’t cremate me;
Rather bury me in the meadows,
And sow a sunflower seed above me.
And if religion denies it,
Then burn me into ashes;
But please don’t cast me away
Into the vast sea of vain.
Plant me in those same meadows,
So I may return…
As a wildflower once again.
I do not want a Funeral,
I wouldn't care to attend.
that stuff is for the family,
and select but few real friends....
It is my wish ; when time comes,
just cremate me and with my ashes;
to give back to the earth,
to end all of our clashes ....
I used to pray so fervently,
I shook and swayed and bent,
not truly in belief;
Of the body, church or lent....
Now as days pass on by ;
and all my life does flash,
I can see my scars about my soul;
but I will never be White Trash....
No burial
When I died, my family didn’t dare bury me in a grave.
They knew, without a doubt, I'd only misbehave ~
that I'd party with the germs,
and have sleepovers with the worms,
and give the bacteria all that they crave.
So, just a lousy cremation
When I watched them cremate my body,
I thought their work was just a little bit shoddy.
I woulda preferred
if the fire had been hotter by a third,
and if my friends had been invited over
to toast me with a hot toddy.
Should I die and be cremated, please preserve my little skull,
For like a nut when the meat is gone, all's left is but the hull..
My skull is house that traps my thoughts, wherein does reason dwell.
Where words upon this paper, spring to life from brain's compel
Do not crush and blend my skull, as though it's a power shake.
Yet my body's bones after death, I care not if they break.
Find a pretty box, where my skull can rest in final close,
Where dreams can live forever in eternal skull's repose.
In an endless night,
time is my nemesis.
In the realms of sleepwalking nightmares,
where trumpets blow an eerie tune,
I can see the Grim Reaper,
perched upon my tomb.
I search for the sandman
in the domain of dreams.
Where hope is an alchemy of potions,
igniting stars to cremate calamity.
In the marketplace of hallucination,
I barter with misty, moody moonlight,
before reality returns to spoil an ephemeral fate,
wishing to remain where imagination illuminates.
Sprites and Sylphs guide to a secret passage,
a labyrinth where ancient secrets sleep.
Yet their black gates are like Hercules' Twelve Labors.
Constant knocking results in the death of spirit.
Defeated by delusions of utopia,
I surrender to a tangible conclusion.
A good time will surely arrive
On a safe path God will drive
Quietly continue the journey
Like this are waiting many
Surely God will confer a favor
That is why He is the Savior
Trust Him without doubt
Fully believe in His clout
Happenings will be confusing
Worries that will be producing
But, let your mind be firm
God will assist I confirm
Do your work with true love
Chaotic ideas, do not allow
Keep your mind crystal clear
Try your level best my dear
Hopefully make a move
Your prowess, you prove
Worrying causes only anxiety
Confidence augments ability
Cancel worry, replace it by joy
Peace is sure if hope you employ!
We had a difference of opinion on final wishes
I swing back and forth like a pendulum this is
because she said it is wrong to cremate
to destroy the body that God made
That even the lords body was buried
Why be baked like chicken curry?
I tentatively have a view on it
Was to not burden my kid
With my final resting place
Visits to my uneventful grave
Rather have folk celebrate
What person wants to be worm food?
Or the thought of loved ones wasting years too
Speaking to a headstone when it’s true
Rather have them do something more cool
Like go to a favorite purple place
Remember me there remember my ways
Not just visit my morbid grave
But go out and live life do not waste
But maybe she is correct
The body is a temple yes
Can it be so simple as she chose
Final wishes to be as a buried rose?
DIFFERENCE OF OPINION CONTEST
10/13/2021
SPONSOR SHREYA LN
Thoughts inflame as feelings stir,
words simmering yet to boil
Unspoken sparks drift through the night,
a pyre still to fan
As heat restores the human soul,
all prodigals return
With hope to melt the frozen dawn,
and free the Poet's hand
Delphian in its natural form,
the smoke a treacherous friend
Ink rekindles—lies cremate,
the mind, its woods now bare
The verses stack and dry of doubt,
their ignition up to you
As dark they wait for your next breath
—to light the spoken air
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)
Thoughts inflame as feelings stir,
words simmering yet to boil
Unspoken sparks drift through the night,
a pyre still to fan
As heat restores the human soul,
all prodigals return
With hope to melt the frozen dawn,
and free the Poet's hand
Delphian in its natural form,
the smoke a treacherous friend
Ink rekindles—lies cremate,
the mind, its woods now bare
The verses stack and dry of doubt,
their ignition up to you
As dark they wait for your next breath
—to light the spoken air
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)
When I die
I want no stone
To tie me to…
A particular time and place on Earth
I want not my flesh and bones
To wither away nor record kept
Of my passing or my birth
Cremate My mortal vessel
And let be forgotten
Both my good deeds
(And my sins!)
Set me free!
Let my legacy be
No more than fond memories
And commit my ashes
…To the whimsical winds…
Its there among the flower roots
Many laid to rest peaceful sleep
Just cremate me all I ask
Scatter me upon the earth
Or perhaps the sky a breeze carried
Maybe you just bury me deep
For others to find later some season
They may say it's just dirt in a vase
But to earth I shall return
Not just dust but one in God's love
Bury me deep a river never wash
When I Die, you can not bury me
For in your heart holds memories dear
Even those we thought break bond
Still love we carry deep in there
Loving another as God loved the other
When I Die, just remember its short trip
There we shall be again in the Heavens
There life is in death for it be no suffering
There I lay to rest, hoping I see you here
In Heaven, I wait at gate your arrival
Remember..I loved you when I was alive
Love each other til end of time
As Father loved you gave his Son
Do also to the other, have a heart
For time is only an instant
A short breath away
Thoughts inflame as feelings stir
Words simmer yet to boil
Unspoken sparks drift through the night
A pyre still to burn
Delphian in its natural form
The smoke a treacherous friend
Words rekindle—lies cremate
The Oracle on fire
As heat restores the human soul
All prodigals return
New hope to melt the frozen dawn
And free the poet’s hand
With letters stacked and dried of doubt
Their Muse cries out your name
As dark she waits for your next breath
—to light the spoken air
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)
‘Inspired by Roberto Rodriguez’
I'm afraid that your child needs multiple surgeries, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson
(Holding back tears): Doctor, what are the odds that our Jessica will survive?
Well, if we can schedule everything back-to-back-to-back, then excellent
Oh, doctor! Do whatever you can to save our precious daughter's life!...
****************
You are Jessica's only surviving daughter, Randi?
Yes sir, I am. Just don't tell me that my mother deserves better from me.
But she specifically requested a solid gold casket and a choice plot of ground
I really don't care what she requested. I'm not made of gold, you know...
Don't you want to respect your mother's life, Randi? Those were her last wishes
Jessica's dead. What difference does it make now? Just cremate her...
Down through the greener woods of Uma,
Through the lions’ den to the green mamba’s palace,
Near the dik dik’s habitat,
As the antelope took off to escape the rage,
Of the approaching leopards whose paws protruded,
Upon the trees were vultures the street sweepers,
Freely interweaving chores with weaver bird choirs,
Whose melodious tuning meant zero to the jungle-
Whose circle a train man decided to cremate,
Elephants hitting their tusks clumsily-
To secure escape routes as rhinoceros tails wagged by,
On their bellies, precious pythons unwounded their rings,
To fit in the general jungle athletics
As the dark pan paper like smoke covered
Rapidly converting the small milieu into-
A small tentative night before a see through,
Thorough plights epitomized the sodomic tragedy
And the Gomorra wails.
As he moved down the valley to Naili Center
Nyama choma’s aroma spread in the setting
As occupants of a small matatizo City
Saw through to Lake Matatizo bounds-
Silence in Uma.
A fiery flaming flashing pen,
Feazes a blistering burning fire,
Sending brave whistling whispers,
Whilst inking brilliant brightness in the dark.
A pyre pen is magma mighty sword,
Spitting emotive solar soaking words,
Roasting roaring and sizzling words,
Igniting illuminations which incinerate the heart.
Febrile fire is never a gentle master,
So is the fiery flaming flashing pen,
Always boiling with bubbling ink,
Leaving charcoal black char footsteps behind.
A flame creeps to cremate the wood,
Just as the penning pen graces the paper,
The flame’s heat dance hypnotizes with red showers,
Just as the pen’s warm words sends waves of excitement.
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