The Last Word

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If I die

If I must

And there is no option

Heed my suggestion

Let it be thus.

Let me not die of frost or cold

Or go to Hades withered and old.

Who would care?

No disease please

Or famine or poverty

Who bothers about these anymore?

Let it not be

Injuries at work

No please, not for me.

If I must, let it be

An arrow to my heel

Or poison in my drink or meal

Served in a treacherous fashion

Quite the thing now are crimes of passion.

At least at the end of my game

Let me walk the walk of fame.

Stabbed by someone famous

Headline in the papers

Execution sounds interesting too

A bullet in the chest or two

Let it not be starvation

Or excessive depression

That just does not sound right on the obituary page.

If I must die

Drug overdose to go

People will at least know

Someone was there a while ago

An accident, a martyrdom, be what it may

Let it not be in an obscure way.

If I must go

Let everyone know

How would it matter if they weep or not?

I do not care to see whether they care

But at least they will know

I was there.

Lives and Leaves..

I come here often,

Sit and wonder

What could have been

The leaves have turned yellow

They rue the green

Lived for sure, it's true

But how?

The thin line between happiness and bliss mocks.

Through thorns and deserts,

storm and thunder,

Is it the path

Or the one who treads it?

The blame sags like the misery of Atlas,

But who would hold it?

Yellow, what once was green

An idle thought

Or a profound question

What could have been.

Lives and leaves,

So close,

So close to man,

Who once born

lives and leaves.

But how?