When my remains are scattered
to the four winds
My ashes swept up and shoveled
into a kindling pile
by the low redwood fence.
Next to the hill of beer cans
in the derelict corner of my untended yard
near the waterlogged coffee cans
filled with stagnant collected rainwater
bobbing with rusty syringes
When I've died after making
my peace
with why you didn't care
You were never there.
Always off somewhere
Ordered me to cut my hair.
Never had a spare.
With your best intentions
talking your smack
Til my arteries filled up
with plaque.
priming me for a massive heart attack.
On my tombstone there will be
a fitting effigy
my parting statements
For you and all wayward
travellers to see.
Words carved on my headstone
I have carefully chosen
'Nobody listened to me
until after I was dead'.
A fitting final statement
for all to see.
addressing the multitudes dis-invested
of my salient
bullet points never tested.
In addition,
Etched on the limestone
in the lower margins, it will also read
'thank you
for finally listening.'
Copyright 2015, All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Buddy Bee Anthony
Re-Edited 23/23/2023 @ 2:43 PM Pacific Standard Time