The Lonely Dying

A poem, obviously cribbed from "What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted"




Just lying there like some buried fossil
breathing air piped into his nostrils
all the things he could have to say
woulda/coulda/shoulda slipping away
so it ends, no bang, no whimper
but if you listen hard, you hear a whisper
a bottled note from someone he used to be
asking for something he'll never see

What becomes of the lonely dying
who gave us life and is now expiring
everybody trying to find some kind of peace of mind;
"Why... not me... "

Machines beep out his final soundtrack
children think of hope with every eye-crack
weeping for places he never took them
more real than anything that he did to them
each one weighs their private haunting
did I do right, or was I wanting;
and the only one who could give absolution
is all electric respiration and saline solution

What becomes of the lonely dying
who gave us life and is now expiring
everybody tries to find some kind of peace of mind;
"what... about...."



Open the curtain; disinfect the room
another dying soul's arriving soon...

What becomes of the lonely dying
who gave us life and is now expiring
What is going through his mind
the memories he leaves behind
like leaves from off an autumn tree,
but there will be no spring for me
Someone else can shade you, someone can stand in the wind
someone else to carve your secrets in
I know you've got to find some kind of peace of mind
find yourself another sign, this world has no more room for mine

Lying here like a buried fossil....