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dano - all messages by user

5/16/2011 1:03:31 AM
The Epitaph of an unbeliever The Epitaph of an Unbeliever

Where would you like to be buried they asked
Well really that’s not my concern
It won’t bother me if I’m under a tree
Or stuck on a shelf in an urn

Tell me what kind of a casket you’d like
Cardboard or wicker or oak
Put me in a sack for I won’t be back
Nobody laughed at my joke

Tell us what music you’d like us to play
By me it would never be heard
Not music said I at the end of the day
I would just like the song of a bird

Tell us what prayers should we pray for your soul
I tried hard to stifle my mirth
I don’t have a soul, just dig a big hole
And let me go back to the earth

I have seen what religion has done to the world
With it’s misery, murder and dread
I despised all religion for all of my life
Don’t force it on me when I’m dead

Don’t patronise me with a guy in a frock
With a mitre a cross and a crook
Demanding that fools live by his kind of rules
That he reads from a dusty old book

Religion has not took control of my life
Or though this may sound a bit odd
I’ve been blessed with the love of a wonderful wife
And for that much at least I thank God
5/17/2011 1:46:52 AM
The End Alas I find it quite perverse, that I can only write in verse, the habit has become a
It’s time I though of quitting
I’m very envious of those, who effortlessly turn out prose, that without rhyme just
some how flows
Their skill is unremitting.
Even if I take my time, my poems somehow end as rhyme, becomes a literary crime
To all who are discerning
At spelling I will always fail, my grammar too is very frail, therefore I feel I’m bound
to fail,
To satisfy my yearning
Though I try with all my might, to make my poetry sound right I simply am not
enough for inspiration
Therefore it's very plane to see, the thing that is obstructing me, I lack perspicacity
I have no education
I should have listened more at school, stopped behaving like a fool, my pen could
have become my tool
To fulfil my ambition
To write with style and panache, in literature to cut a dash, instead of which I come
down crash
Trembling with contrition
Now it’s time to turn to drink, and put away my pen and ink, give up the quest that
makes me think
That I could really write
No more to comment on the news, giving vent to biased views, or writing of the
global blues
It’s time I said good night.
5/18/2011 6:01:42 AM
Old Bert I was being shown round a factory the other day when I noticed a member of the workforce gesturing vigorously with his fingers. I asked the foreman showing me round what he was doing?. "Well" he said "that’s old Bert and he is deaf and dumb". "Well what does he want?" I asked
"Nothing" said the foreman "he’s singing"
edited by dano on 5/18/2011
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