I heard a fly buzz when I died.
The insult was I was still alive.
Wearing my crown and little else besides,
There sat one cousin where once sat five.
The bastard chorus still sounded
From the low lying squelch outside.
Would they not stop? How my head pounded!
Day shone bright when their king died.
Wait. I had not closed my eyes, and thus could see
The smug-n-sorrowful filching of my things.
The four have left, carrying a throne, a wife,
my first spawn: such is the death of disposable kings.
"I cannot breathe" and "the end is near"
I make a show of it, nostalgic for the monsoon.
My cousin hops tearful to my head, my bed
The dirty bum buzzes 'gainst the square heat of noon.
With triumphant rude laughing eyes
His fat self saw what will soon be bog news:
A tongue long-prized, now too weak to reach.
The tiny reaper buzzed, awaiting payment of his dues.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
The Frog King
Posted by The Wizard of Odd at 4:15 PM
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1 comments:
Heh Heh. Why does he not get the kiss of life though?
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