You were too late
I'm no longer a classmate
You're debating to donate
Or leave me to deteriorate
Strongly articulated and voiceless
Crumble my mental fortress
Delved into the depths of fortis and rigor mortis
I don't understand where the lack of thought is
You were too late
Now its nothing to debate
Postmortem in your hand
Now you're new to analysand
There's one difference, you can't do when im dead
Put two new bullets in my same old head
Drag me by the ankles to your safe haven
Sadly the deterioration may hasten
You wore your neuroses
Like badges of Honor:
A Non-Apology creature,
- Like certain Candidates I know -
Never a trip to the Vet's;
I valued the flesh of my arms too much -
Never outside;
Except to eat grass
Throw up inside,
Despite it all,
A life stubbornly lived
Into profound old age;
Most spent asleep.
- This is your legacy; of which I'm sure you were perversely proud.
Thus, one day
After 17 years of pure existence
You passed on while climbing the stairs.
Maybe one day I'll follow,
Slipping away between
My lower and upper worlds;
Halted midway between Past and Present.
Maybe we'll meet one day in the middle,
Old friend;
Never think no one grieves for Thee.
Gilded pols with verbal jousts disarm
With statistical ballasts constituents charm
On opponents deceptive feints, sound the alarm
Scout for votes in city, dale, and farm
Broker deals that bolster their position
Deceptive adds initiate their political inquisition
Bribe voters of every walk and station
Recount votes with cunning derision
Conveniently forget every token promise
Accept all gratuities without malice
With honey and wine, fill every lobbyist chalice
Satiate ego with fatuous, frivolous dalliance
Your Postmortem excommunication of the acorn cut down in its prime
was like hurling obsidian from a glass castle
Your sharp words that you intended to separate my pulp from the rind
Was no more than an editorial with no reference to time
Just a flicker of his flashlight has left me blind
Low attendance due to hassle
Snuffing your fading ember would be too kind
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
No smile in sight, to break one for once would be to err in social graces,
So for the sake of keeping grace solemnity will hold sway of our faces,
A walk turns to drudge, conversation to drawl,
All faces are ashen & silence for all,
It's forced, I know this, I scream in my head,
This nonsensical downtrodden respect for the dead,
In life this one moved me with power, storms: laughter or tears,
We should party, celebrate this life not bask in our fears,
It's our own mortality we weep for, selfish tears used untrue,
In games of who's sadder, them, me or you?
Funeral phonies, Postmortem players, In Insincerity only are you sincere,
I refuse to adhere, I'll say goodbye by raising a beer,
So have fun with your pomp & faux tear,
How fickle the electoral wind!
only yesterday a sure winner
but now a picture of despair.
Experience means nothing,
rhetorical prowess is best,
more like elocution contest.
Lack of substance is alright,
just talk and you are made
or end up politically dead.
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