The final frontier post consciousness
The final frontier – post consciousness
as imagined by cogent, fervent, intelligent,
lucent, occident, reticent, and uneminent
nonestablishmentarian.
The following disquisition initially describes
emotions prior to experiencing corporeal death,
yet unbeknownst to this skeptical atheist, his
anticipatory anxiety stalwart like a soldier
valiantly bidding adieu to Earthly terrestrial
sphere, whence intractable denial of life after
death found such premise turned upside down.
Whence moment thine instant karma expired
coterie of medical professionals henceforth
determined thine body to be dead.
This code blue bone chilling cold winter day
(referring to date this poem originally written)
appeared to indicate this wordsmith forever
dormant, since no vital signs showed any
response, though examination conducted
comprised a rather cursory assessment.
The next of kin bereaved the absence of life
evidenced by last whispery dying and/or living
breath, which found rigor mortis the indubitable
signature of the grim reaper.
Though visibly lifeless, thine aura entered
miasma constituting a fifth dimension,
which primed thine soul.
Prudent outlook of mine crafted Netzero agnostic
belief in hereafter (this from formative years bing
steep pulled within Unitarian faith) immediately
undermined via sprinting spirits of deceased.
Within fingerhut gilt hula hoop ring (cosmic
programmed Onstar mapquest force field) boarded
avast progressive throng (i.e. amidst fluted mist
throve ethereal, kindling spirits swirling
in Plenti full Orbitz.
No more evidence of that once longhaired pencil
necked geek, who fostered nonestablishmentarian
outlook among brother and sister beatniks,
(whereby said generic dork happened to be one
among many capitalone dishabille dressed
Dharma bums.
Perpetually preserved amidst an ethereal sphere,
(whereby witches and warlocks guarded immaterial
discernible willowy wisps), twas here, within which
hallowed dead souls found, scythe lent death stillness,
and an eternal asylum.
Death warrant decreed left
troubadour entombed, but ‘lo dance
Clearwater Revival did BuzzFeed heft
rejuvenation where ghost of this scrivener
premature pronounced bereft
of Linkedin to devilish witch mockery,
who playfully heckled, mocked, and teased
where lovely bones ceremoniously
lowered into graveyard cleft.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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