The Mendicant’s Funeral (from ‘Orphaned Echoes, the Book of Dead Gods’)

We make-believe in monuments,

training our brains to torment ourselves

with potential, demanding

impossible legacies

be left in the wake

of the destiny that could never manifest.

We murder metaphysics,

psychoanalysing philosophers

in an attempt

to eradicate the contemporary,

seeking stranger bedfellows

than the psychopaths

who helped us hide the bodies

(of work).

Do we burn the books?

Or bury our ideals?

 

Advertisements

Once Upon A Time

The world is a less exciting place

to live in now you’re gone,

I wish we had reconnected,

but I neglected you,

you, who was once my night and day.

Selected memories, poignant,

and pointedly shelved

until after the funeral,

delved into once more,

in search of ancient laughter,

and hints you believed in the fairy-tale,

despite no ‘happy ever after’.

The world is a less amusing place

to live in now you’re gone,

I wish we had reconnected,

but I neglected you,

you, who was once my hero of comedy,

the jokes, for me,

now seem in bad taste.

The waste of a life cut too short

has taught me a thought

that should not go unheard,

could be preserved in the written word,

and I keep everything,

as you told me to, for you sold me the glue

that keeps the pages of my life bound,

and the sound of funny in my tummy,

my inheritance,

other than your impertinence,

is the legacy of your laughter,

and the faith in fairy-tales – hope

in ‘happy ever after’.

The Farewell Spell

Laughter,
That was the sound that floated on the breeze,
Laughter,
A lilting titter, melodious, infectious, it seemed
As others in the congregation began to smile and giggle.
Many wiped tears from their faces, unashamed
At their presence as the laughter filled
The room and fled towards the cemetery.
The laughter tickled the trees, brushing
The grass and flowers with sunshine
Before fading slowly like a memory.
And it did not seem inappropriate,
It was necessary, we believed
He would have loved that there was laughter at his grave.

©KieranDavis2013
©Baldypoems2013