ceiling fan soothing
motor floater noise cooing
mortician cutting
Where there's a will
there's a funeral
death is a fact of life
a grave undertaking
for a mortician
and one day some day
you and I
will wake up dead
hopefully the lifetime led
was of our own making
too late for looking back
no regrets and yet
it's appalling
when we wind up
in a winding sheet
waiting on that beir
aside from six feet under
where do we go
from here?
Some say, 'Heaven,'
some say, 'Hell,' oh well,
by then our goose is cooked, wagon fixed,
and we'll never know 'til it's too late
as they've punched our ticket,
cleaned our clock and wiped our slate.
Much finer than she was battling with death,
Nicer than when she had survivor’s breath
Returned to her hurt face the freshest health;
Like one who’d begun anew to test wealth…
Twenty-One Gun Salute to Mortician:
For Morticians I’d turn a musician
In all my songs rank one Perfect Magician;
I wouldn’t trouble the word ‘Beautician’…
Then, cash does motivate a last wonder:
Her husband had for this sold his Honda
To delay one’s commitment Real Blunder
In death you still tore loved one asunder…
Ahead of a just fixed funeral
He'd started counting its numeral:
Negotiator of the fairest price.
For twenty five bags of Thailand Rice...
Negotiator meets, too, Mortician
And relates to him as Beautician:
One is as good as partaker,
Who goes around as undertaker
"Well, he's for badly frowning corpses
Owners pay thousands for cleaned lapses".
Man wants his wife's corpse to start smiling;
If this can't be time away whiling.
If possible her lips archly grinning:
Guests sometimes cough for face in linen...
The discussions he will not linger,
Mortician to at price point finger...
All corpses have interest to protect,
Job of the living to them detect.
maybe mortician
as well as politician
are ammunition
destruction at lid
accurately measure grid
of things we forbid
when we will mingle
those with disease out single
should see my shingle
real quiet and cute
she has learned how to commute
is not destitute
we must invade scene
need an airborne vaccine
for each king and queen
should fear sin and lust
or hang head in disgust
in God always trust
what was on my mind
things must know about spirit
cause inspiration
we must make ends meet
with God overcame defeat
helps us to compete
Our morticians are thanking their god
For a year where they all earned a wad
Though some were burnt
Many more weren't
Still, their best work lies under the sod!
All hail the village mortician
his bearing, proper patrician
Sterling the gent's reputation
throughout his chosen vocation
A man of dignity and reserve
whose stare can a ghost unnerve
Frankly, he makes me quite nervous
though one day I'll be needing his service
The lighting - it was over-bright
above the table where she lay,
her skin dead cold but lovely white.
The lighting -it was over-bright,
He loved work best alone at night.
With corpses he could have his way.
The lighting - it was over-bright
above the table where she lay.
Written June 19, 2016
======================
The lighting, it was over-bright
She seemed to merely be at rest
I'd made her up just right despite
the lighting (it was over-bright!)
When caught in a carress, one might
need not confess but ought suggest
the lighting. It was over-bright
...She seemed to merely be at rest
======================
The Secret of the Mortician
Dead, but I got eyes
Prepares my body at the morgue
Opens the chest
Drains the blood from its nudity
Admires my body before it decays
After The process of embalming
His hands run all over
I'm still dead
He's satisfied
The next day
Writes an outstanding obituary
I sit on display
~SKAT~
Nightly in the mirror she would stare,
and pull out clumps of her own hair.
Wigs she wore during the day,
while doing things her way.
Neighbors said the way she walked,
the way she talked was very creepy.
For quite some time she was able to maintain,
the fact that she was slowly going insane.
People did notice when she made the dead look like a clown.
Someone called for the cops to come around.
On the bus she was caught trying to leave town.
Now, she is in the nut house a total lock down.
In therapy it was found that as a child
after her mother had passed,
she saw her dad having intimate times with the dead.
After he passed she took over the funeral business with dread.
Over time it drove her mad,
and she began to act like her dad.
After she heard voices in her head.
She would wake up next to the dead.
"I tie the shoelaces together on my dead," says my local mortician,
"because if a zombie apocalypse were ever to happen,
it will most certainly be an hilarious situation."
So, this is it then, no Borealis
How abysmal the beginning is
After that climax of wondering
Comes just this, this replica.
Thoughts keep me company, still yet
Make all the memories go, go, go!
Incessant replays with constant reverb
Strike the fork and see where it bounces
I think my skin is gone now, mostly
Still I feel it crawling not away but towards
I’m not alone in this carcass, but who, what
Who talks to me with a steady voice , a mothers tone
Never calming, stirring up old feelings
Inertia with no stomach, spinning, blurred
STOP. Calmness, Easiness, alien
Embrace, break, let go, slip away, start over
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