Life

And in the midst of having drummed up another one of those art shows in that city of New York, I still find that it is a new year 2017 and that America has still descended into what seems like one big anti inauguration protest these first few weeks of this Gregorian calendar year as a result of those United States Presidential Elections 2016 according to that Facebook news feed and the headline news.  And when I am at a lost as for what to post on this blog and my other blagh, I sometimes find myself recycling those blog posts in an attempt to maintain web 2.0 user generated content for this blog and my other blog whenever blaghers block possible. And I sometimes find myself drifting to that same "I Am No Queen" passage, that same poem and those same photos that find themselves posted above, over and over and over and over for some reason. And life continues, the cycle of life continues.  And death is a part of life and I guess life is a part of death, or something like that and whatever other quotes, philosophies and saying about life and death there may be. The only thing constant is change and some stories do not end as you expect and it is the saddest story ever told.

 I am no Queen
I sit a widow and shall see sorrow
I kannot walk any further
my journey may end here
there are no words to take away the pain
to replace a person who is gone
my eyes are dim and heavy with grief
I kannot close them
I do not wish to see the darkness they hold
this thing which I have greatly feared
has come upon me with trembling
kausing all my bones to shake
I am scared with dreams and terrified
with visions of what will my funeral be like
when I die today at this very moment
will there be a funeral
who will come and who will pay
will they eulogize me and what will they say
leave me to sit and decay
make me your centerpiece in a chair dressed up dead
preserve me with spices, mummify me
let the birds of the air pluck me
the beast of the field tear me
till I be consumed by maggots and
dust and fly away when I die
there hath been no greater love than
that which hath been
it is the sound of Rachael mourning for
the children that never were
no one to comfort her
no where to wail lament save the ocean
why died the not from the womb
why died they not the breast prevent them from suck
why died they not the knees prevent them
why died they not give up the ghost that
no light shine upon this day
cursed be the man that saith the child is born this day
it is the wake of a funeral procession about to begin
it was a sunny day that day across the street from the graveyard
and we all laid down in our coffins to die

Have a great life, death and poetry day.