Poetry Blogs (dead man)

(Dialogue kicks in after first few bars)

Through a tunnel carved in dead mens bones

the living went to hell

the stoker fed the flaming mouth

as the hammer struck its knell

The landscape flattened beneath the plain

its rivers turned to dust

strange tepees ripped ragged by blackened rain

sit fragile on the crust

Passengers cling to souls long sold

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£4.88

Your body was found dead in your flat, three months gone and smelling like hell.

They came and took you away, to the morgue downtown, an unhappy place.

Clearing your flat they found £4.88, not much to show for a lonely death.

Always on your own, eternally in death. How sad no one will see you buried, a pauper’s death, the undertaker the only witness at this solemn occasion.

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