Cradle to Grave


One more I honor and pray will not be the last,

This poem, your day, awakenings to more days

Filled with complaints, facts, lies, jokes and sighs

Those last with mortal grimace and existential pain–

And celebrations.

No one fills your place, not before or after,

None who sits just where you do in my house,

Or my car, no one quite like you who inherited and grew

status, class, gender, race, trait, stance and ethnicity.

You made me.

One day you will unmake me just like the sun and earth,

My fiery Death whose smoke will awaken the ravens

Loosen charred Regret and Steam, neither life companions

On my walk, my rise and fall, blossom and decay, my stain

After you.
 

Cryogenically Yours

 

 
“Wait, Walt Disney was cryogenically frozen, right?”

(We are in the car.) 

“No, I think that is just rumor, one that’s been around forever.”

“Really? Because I think he actually was frozen.”

“Look it up. You have a phone.”

“Oh look, ‘Disney on Ice’ it says, so it’s true, right? Wait, that’s a joke isn’t it? Oh shit, he was cremated.”

“Yep. Hard to freeze ashes.”

“When I go I’m going to be cremated and have someone throw my ashes in Harry Styles’ hair.”

“Um…you better put that in your will, so that your ash delivery person can justify throwing your dead-ass ashes in the man’s hair. And so he’ll feel bad enough to allow it since he will feel compelled to  honor someone’s dying wish. Bet that would go viral on Twitter.”

(high pitched laughing) “That’s a great idea! It would so work!!”

(SMH, eyes on the road ahead)

 

credit: http://www.flinthosts.co.uk