The Sad Parade Poem by Joseph White

A mean array lies in a sad parade
we ourselves made to stave off the end
when we are finally gone
we will only be one
of many who traveled before

Horns play that mounrful tune
heard by the crowds
who stand still in honor
of the passing caisson
and marching soldiers

The band will come their way
and the song will be for each of them
in time, dues must be paid
to ride the carriage into the canyon
of the final voyage

Life will swirl around each
in a last glimpse of what was
and the cold, cold ground is the destiny
of each drinker
at the sad parade

They drink and spill the wine
of yesterday, today and tomorrow
as it pools and stains the soul
into a memory inducing stupor
in a foolish attempt to delay the end of the parade

The carousel has no golden ring to grasp
seated on demented creatures
indeed, jesophat saints
that go around and around
without hope, faith or charity

Stopping to dismount and enter
a sad cafe of false words and false truths
where the smoky deep night's
neon signs blink and blare
of the fear Adam's son and false prophets

The piracy and theft of mind and soul
is followed by clapping thunder and flashing lightening
announcing to all under the thumb of necessity
asking them to join the sad parade
and find a seat in the sad cafe

Bid a fond farewell to all you love
it is time to go with the old one
to that place across the water
never to return, except fleetingly
in dreams of those left without you