My Silent Collection...... Poem by Prince ....

I position each delicate corps
To portray a scene from the indecisive
Play of my dreadful life

There eyes seem compromised
With rosy scribbles that look like
A portrait composed by a four
Year old and his red crayon

There skin has been kiss with icy lips,
That seemed to leave a blistering blue paint
That consumed there idle bodies
And there fingers forever pointed
To the last questionable site that
Invaded her view of God’s blinding
Flashlight

My odd collection of Death’s remains
Mutated into hundreds of grim and deceitful
Photos, that fit into a ghastly flip book
Where the dead operated like the living
Dancing with a intimidating grace that could
Fraud the living or the divine

I concur that my hobby of harboring
These emptied frames would place me
As the poster child for the criminally insane

Yet I find a purpose in keeping death close
It reminds me that tomorrow is not promised
To anyone, yet soon earth’s mother plants
Seeds of untimely decay where sapphire petals
Bloom from my quite children like a garden
Of awareness that has been silenced