I've Been Thinking About the Future Lately

Death's unwanted guest,
brisk and bright, persistent
to receive eternity's embrace
in sweetest serenity.

I remember her sifting
homesick though lucent
photographs stacked
in a rustic cedar cigar box,
emanating smells of stale
smoke and morose memories.

She'd stare intently, then
look back, as if these
keepsakes were
treasures to hide.

Then came her first knock
at death's door.

Death accepts no visitors,
she freely comes and
sweeps all souls of their
feet - eyes wide and shut.

As she waited, her soft
pale complexion turned a
violent shade of contempt.

"Entitlement",
she sighs.

Photographs lay at her feet,
the placid face of her
past-father glaring, wondering,
who lies before him
locking eyes wide,
then shut.

Mr. Dismissive

I'm stumped,
staring at a wall adorned
with a genius' mad ramblings.
A so-to-speak who's who
of nobodies, somebodies,
and - for the sake of closure -
everybodies.

I've lost so much time
in awe of this pervasive
beauty, mingling among moochers.

Can I embark?
Who's to give me permission
if I so choose to ask?

The world-ender, trendsetter,
real go-getter makes his
entrance...now!

Can he overcome?
Who's to give him permission
if he so chooses to ask?

"It's a grand show"
I duly admit, the crowd
vibrating and warm.
Faces lost within a
nest of angst and ambition,
hatching now a dark cynicism.

Can we deny?
Who's to give us permission
if we so choose to ask?