GROWING UP DEATH

Growing Up Death

Papa was a rolling stone

Mama was a voodoo queen

born at the stroke of midnight

they dressed me in the blackest blue

and called me

Little Reaper

My Legos are

the building blocks of life

I'm learning all the dances

on the head of a pin

I run up and down

the stairway to heaven

and fly like a

bat out of hell

A bohemian caught up

in the rhapsody of time

I pop with the culture of my era

exchanging tears for fears

and walking on sunshine

invisible

beside my mortal siblings

Soon enough I'll be trading places

with my godfather

taking over the family business

it's a stable profession

people will always die

Till then I'll stay footloose

and enjoy the living daylights

April 12, 2016

National Poetry Writing Month 2016

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