The Lightning and The Fire

When my Poems become a Parody
bury me
sprinkle flowers upon my grave
say a quick prayer that rhymes perfectly
and save
a little Gin in the bottle
pour it out
on to the ground
Walk away briskly
without looking back
from darkness
from sullen art
and despair
When my Poetry becomes a Parody
leave me there

I was once golden
once brilliant and unique
once writing so
cleverly that
the rappers would seek

to know me
to try and emulate me
to drop computer generated
over my Poetry

When my art becomes stale
redundant and
starts to gray
leave me here to simply
I had my time
it came and went
I won’t begrudge the day

Art in the form of goodbyes
Art as a Weapon
Art that gets messy , dirty
and forces you to step in

Lament for Me when I’m gone

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