Jerrybaldy
11-06-2013, 08:03 PM
Good morning.
Today could be my last.
I have that niggly cough.
And that lump I felt in the shower
whilst basking in tea tree oil
from where the tea trees grow.
Today could be my day
or not.
The towel is still damp from yesterday.
Good morning.
That mole on my knee is bigger.
Knee cap sized.
Cancer.
How my loved ones will cry.
Reassessing funeral tunes.
The mole has taken my leg.
Weather report on the radio
scattered showers.
They could crop up anywhere.
I am up.
Death makes you hard.
Continuation of the species.
Full fat butter on toast this morning.
Bugger the consequences.
I may just climb a tree.
or run a red light.
Traffic lady has the latest.
"Do not leave your home"
I am sure she said.
My mole is reaching my toes.
The dew is yet to leave the grass.
The butter is too cold to spread.
The radio plays "Mr Blue Sky"
Good morning.
My funeral songs are indulgent
The audience seem bored.
Came in there lunch break.
Here are the songs.
He wrote poetry you know.
" Oh for f ucks sake"
I lay there a human mole.
"Burn him"
Comes the cry.
We are busy people.
The flames glow like the sun at dawn.
Good morning.
I knot my tie and head to work.
Or up the tree.
The opportunities are endless.
The outcomes predictable.
Good morning.
Today could be my last.
I have that niggly cough.
And that lump I felt in the shower
whilst basking in tea tree oil
from where the tea trees grow.
Today could be my day
or not.
The towel is still damp from yesterday.
Good morning.
That mole on my knee is bigger.
Knee cap sized.
Cancer.
How my loved ones will cry.
Reassessing funeral tunes.
The mole has taken my leg.
Weather report on the radio
scattered showers.
They could crop up anywhere.
I am up.
Death makes you hard.
Continuation of the species.
Full fat butter on toast this morning.
Bugger the consequences.
I may just climb a tree.
or run a red light.
Traffic lady has the latest.
"Do not leave your home"
I am sure she said.
My mole is reaching my toes.
The dew is yet to leave the grass.
The butter is too cold to spread.
The radio plays "Mr Blue Sky"
Good morning.
My funeral songs are indulgent
The audience seem bored.
Came in there lunch break.
Here are the songs.
He wrote poetry you know.
" Oh for f ucks sake"
I lay there a human mole.
"Burn him"
Comes the cry.
We are busy people.
The flames glow like the sun at dawn.
Good morning.
I knot my tie and head to work.
Or up the tree.
The opportunities are endless.
The outcomes predictable.
Good morning.