Saxophones

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man can fantasize about what's next, Cant he?

Submitted: July 18, 2017

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Submitted: July 18, 2017

A A A

A A A


Time does not matter,

All that matters is I’m awake,

You may fear mortality,

But I’d accept my fate,

 

Maybe insane you think me,

Or perhaps I’m even lying,

What kind of man lives and breathes?

Without the fear of dying,

 

I’ll tell you the kind,

He penned this poem,

Why must I fear death,

When I know where I’m going,

 

There’s no heaven for me,

No room in the clouds,

Nor a seat in hell,

Amongst the iniquitous crowd,

 

 

I’m going to a place,

Void of good and evil,

Filled with stars ever bright,

And very few people,

 

I’ve been there once before,

Yet they did not let me stay,

Now I’m dying to return,

To where the saxophones play,

 

That melodic ecstasy,

Dissolving my pain,

No sky in the sky,

Yet I’ll bathe in the rain,

 

I hear saxophones in my dreams,

And it staggers my breath,

For sleep is an hors d’oeuvre,

Just a sample of death,

 

So if my day should come tonight,

Please do not shed a tear,

Just smile, rejoice, for I’m a peace,

With a melody in my ear,


© Copyright 2017 Poetic Reflections. All rights reserved.

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