#Micropoetry Monday: Thanatology

minimal-1327748_960_720

When the philosophers died,
their ideas died with them;
when the writers died,
their stories died with them,
& all that was left was the Here & Now.

She’d always said never again,
the make-up never quite covering the bruises.
When Ruby was placed in her satin box,
the artist of the dead made her look better
than she ever had in life.

She left them incentives in her will—
requests that would lead them to discover
greater things in themselves.

When he thought he had forever to live,
he strolled through life;
when he knew the day of his death,
he ran,
& did not stop,
till the last dot
XXXon the ellipsis
XXXXXXof his timeline.

When the musicians died,
their music died.
Recording the past
was against the laws of the present,
so that the future could not be
dictated by it.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s