I am weezerd

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and this is my poetry 3 page!

featuring the art of dying

Epilog

Good-bye to you, my dear, dear world,
You were too dear for me.
Now when you search for my address
amongst the Gods I'll be.

You said drugs were a waste of time...
"Can't have them", "There's no need";
but how on Earth else could I keep
up with your reckless speed?

I tried once to apply the brake
but the recoil broke my heart.
She said that I was much too slow
whilst I thought love was art.

Well I'm sorry, folks...I've had enough
of this false side of night;
when morning comes I will be dead -
gone searching for the light.

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Obituary

I buried a man yesterday
who was a friend of mine.
His spirit was quite bright and gay,
his outlook always fine.

We spent a lot of time together
my friend and I myself;
for tho' he was a cheerful type
we both were on the shelf.

Of course that wasn't really bad
for one of peace like me,
but sometimes life was very sad -
too dull for one like he.

And really he'd already died
for his poor heart was broken.
Tho' many girls who met him tried,
his loves were purely token.

But now, tho' he is set apart,
he is no more alone:
for now his is a mended heart
and his a spirit throne.

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Pit Stop

Once there was a funny bloke
who lived down in a pit.
People thought it was a joke
as he would calmly sit.

They used to stand there on the top
and talk away to him,
and as he never told them "Stop!"
some thought that he was dim.

But he had an age to think
on things that passed his ears;
then when people's hearts would sink
he washed away their fears.

So this man was made a sage
and all folk thought him wise...
so wise they left him there an age
and would not hear his cries.

You see, he'd fallen in the hole
when he once missed his foot
and as no-one cared for his soul
down there he must stay put.

Yet when he cried “Please help me out!”
no-one could find the time
so they would call down "Hang about
our verses do not rhyme.

Your advice proved so good for us
think for your own self some...
and don't you shout there, cut the fuss
your help will one day come!"

Then when that day some help appeared
they rejoiced through the nation:
but much too late, for, as he'd feared,
he was dead of starvation.

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