I am trapped
In time.
My passing rhyme
Must end
When he taps
Me on the shoulder
And says, “its over
My friend”.
And will aliens find
Fragments of poetry
And ponder on rhyme
And fleeting time?
Or will they see
An unintelligible line?
Or perhaps not care
When and where
We humans wrote,
Then cut our throat?
Will I die,
Like a drunken fool
Falling off a bar stool?
Or will I
Be found dead in bed
In an empty room
Where cheap perfume
Lingers on stiffening fingers?
Will I die
As an old rake
Who did partake
In fleeting play?
There is no bliss
In death’s hard kiss,
Merely clay
Where rake and saint
Together stay.
There was a young lady named Lou
Who walked around dressed in 1 shoe.
When a girl called Rose
Said, “put on some clothes!”,
Lou said, “I’m dressed in this shoe!”.
I once met a wicked cat
Who attacked me with a bat.
When I said, “Percy!
Show me some mercy!”,
He laughed and raised that bat!
When naughty Miss White and Miss Winning
Came round to mine for some sinning,
We got covered in cake
While a vicar named Lake
Condemned us for all of our sinning!
When the mirror finally breaks
There will be no lakes
Of pointless tears,
Just wasted years,
Reflected straight back
In shards of broken glass.
When a man whose name was Dave
Said, “I’ll sleep in this ’ere grave”,
A ghost called Clair
Said, “that isn’t fair!
I’d like some privacy in my grave!”.
When a young lady smoking some Pot
Said, “do you think that I’m hot?”,
They Said to her, “Moriah!
You’ve just started a fire!
You need to stop dropping that Pot!”.
There was a young man named Dave
Who attended a very large rave,
Where a girl with a beard
Said, “some say that I’m weird,
But I really don’t like to shave!”.
“Would you like to,
Again? before I go …?”
Her kiss!
Her hands!
His momentary bliss.
Time never stands
Still. Goodbyes are spoken
And banks open.
K Morris - Poet 