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Funeral Funeral A pickaxe and a spade, a spade, For and a shrouding sheet; O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a quest is meet. - Shakespeare Life has been a thankless dream And I the only thing real Embrace a whoresome cloud filled sky With genocide and Cossack zeal. A consciousness, never black or white Nonetheless ponders the extremes Then greys mid heaps of smoked dead skin, Laments the apathy of ‘seems’. Confronting fears and sins of limbo Like suicide at Alcedama The monster lava casket seers the land Commences age old melodramas The rancid gutted ooze of Judas bowels Stench this scented hedonist forever The tomb of pearl and guilded room House his insignificance forever. |
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