|
Testament
by V. Blaketake my brain cells and pass them around
to the people still passed out on my floor
the next afternoon.
take my bones and make a mask
for when you need to scare your future kids
out of their hiccups.
take my blood and bottle it up,
if you expect that you might find yourself
in need of the ink.
take my poems and burn them.
then pound the pulp into sheets of paper
you can use for jotting down better ideas.
but when i die, stretch out my shrunken soul,
cover every last inch of it in bubblewrap,
and toss the whole thing down a mountain. 12/01/2009 Author's Note: Or: How I Hope to Spend the Afterlife
Posted on 12/02/2009
Copyright © 2024 V. Blake
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Nanette Bellman on 12/02/09 at 06:39 AM For a second, I thought you sounded like Ingrid Newkirk, the co-founder of Peta. Her last requests for her remains sound like that. 'Cept for the soul thing. I find it ironic that you want your soul bubblewrapped, after your dead. No one takes the afterlife into consideration much. Nice. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 12/02/09 at 03:22 PM ...flows like a river, like the GarthMeister said, a lot in these few lines and you sew it up nicely with that last stanza but from stanza one on twas a good/great write...so, from several years ago: word up! |
|
