The Black & White Poet
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The Grave (revised for a poet emulatoin project (chosen poet: Margaret Atwood)
You know who goes in the grave?
Extinct passion.
Spiritless and dead affairs.
I often talk about the grave,
but you probably haven't a clue of what I mean
"Who died?" You say
"Old love." I say
Remember when I spooned out my soul
And threw it on the television screen?
Unimaginable feelings were rolled
And psychotic nightmares were displayed
And I buried love (while still alive in me)
And then seasons changed
Sometimes I walk past the grave
And remember these former pitiful relations
But sometimes I walk past the grave
And remember these former joyous occasions
I never murdered those who lie here
But I've buried those who lie here
Today,
I see the Grave-Tender eyeing me-
he digs another hole
and the death-fairies assemble-
plotting destruction
begging me to kill
for the first time
Extinct passion.
Spiritless and dead affairs.
I often talk about the grave,
but you probably haven't a clue of what I mean
"Who died?" You say
"Old love." I say
Remember when I spooned out my soul
And threw it on the television screen?
Unimaginable feelings were rolled
And psychotic nightmares were displayed
And I buried love (while still alive in me)
And then seasons changed
Sometimes I walk past the grave
And remember these former pitiful relations
But sometimes I walk past the grave
And remember these former joyous occasions
I never murdered those who lie here
But I've buried those who lie here
Today,
I see the Grave-Tender eyeing me-
he digs another hole
and the death-fairies assemble-
plotting destruction
begging me to kill
for the first time
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The Grave (revised for a poet emulatoin project (chosen poet: Margaret Atwood)
The Grave (revised for a poet emulatoin project (chosen poet: Margaret Atwood)