'Song Of The Dead'
The change in the inherited characteristics of biological populations,
Passed down through successive blood lines of multiple generations,
It is inglorious to deny factual allegations for fostering a devil inside,
A villainous passport sustained as Cain killed Able he’d run and hide.
Secretly no more, the evil one openly in defiance continues to abide,
“We slaughtered our fellows and dinned on their flashes” at his side,
Admire our evil deeds embracing purposely forgotten biblical pages,
Cro-Magnon to Homo Erectus taught within historical ancient sages.
Savage creatures not evolved but created instinctly through the ages,
Immortalized in popular song, admired in books and poetic phrases,
Continuous flow of molten lava no longer presented in fixed stages,
Against laws of the Father from which He toiled in scriptural pages.
Veiling our ignorance with words rhymed in rhythm yet out of sync,
We dress our nudeness like a crying child refusing to stop and think,
In Gucci, Lacoste, Armani, Jack n Jones, ah, the truth hardly known,
Oh immortal death may any escape vengeance reaping what is sown?
A horrid idol you are fancied but will I find any less solace in my death?
That mercy is disguised warmer than my mother's lap for one last breath,
Any more soothing than her beloved breast lighter than the morning mist?
A love lullaby of immortality more enchanting than if Venus was kissed?
Might it be, although highly improbable this is simply a stage to rehearse?
And those who properly act out the script will evolve on another universe?
Harmony can only be harmonious not comprised in an out of tune quartet,
There remains a chance in this life a chosen few will be allowed to forget.
So, if not I will still pursue with diligence to fulfill my never-ending quest,
By looking not to compare as I can do nothing more then my absolute best,
As I accomplish victory or taste defeat by the score on mine & not your test,
To arise every morning with the dew of prominence contemplating w/o rest.
Shall the birth of babies & ingenuity on the eve of destruction cease to exist?
Being swallowed up in an infinite Black Hole camouflaged by an eerie mist?
Rendition so expertly touched-up impossible to label the masterpiece forged?
Once again instinctively looked over as the lie prevails while truth is ignored.
Still searching with every breath always seeking a lasting peace, tranquility,
With the end of every strife a tribute to preeminence sought in immortality,
Now one last tribute but to whom do we owe congratulations for solutions?
Well maybe no one only time will tell as we approach the end of Evolution.
A dynasty demolished is no longer great for surely all that is mighty will fall,
Shall there be a beating heart should any survivors seek help & faintly call?
A sound so shallow no echo remains no matter how deep the canyon walls,
“Song Of The Dead” so passive even gallant horses stand silent in the stall.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem ('Song Of The Dead' by Luke Easter )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(2 July 1923 – 1 February 2012)
Winifred Emma May
(1907 - 1990)
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