A Mortuary Poem by Josey Alfred

He hid a mortuary in his mind,
A tiny one too cool unkind!
He kept it warm within his thoughts
And kept it vacant ever for use.

His childhood was a forlorn one!
His parents had no time for him!
They worked too hard in office high!
And had a bank balance high.

He grew up like a polished boy,
Kept his thoughts sharp astute!
His mind abstruse in myth of death,
At night he whimpered with the moon.

They could not find a seat for him,
In nigh or far off schools of fame
But paid for one across the seas
To make a surgeons, mask for him.

There he found birds of same flocks
He adorned the boots of, those amok,
His dreams of love back fired on him
He resolved to claim it back from them.

He returned back for Christ mas feast,
And stayed he cool, aloof and calm!
The parents were gay for whole day in mirth,
Were lost in blissful sleep, that night.

In dream they saw an autopsy!
Their son holding a hatchet in hand,
Slicing them up in to peaces small,
He looked relaxed, with a beaming smile.

Cool he mixed petrol with flesh,
Fair his face now sanguine bright,
Holding a cracker for Christmas Eve!
He set all wrongs, by a burial bright.

He laid them in his freezer cool
And locked its door, with steel his grip
His mind too cool, for they where safe!
In the mortuary of his childhood dreams.

He picked his bag, let for offshore!
Went his way to high moon land.
Where cocaine would make or mar one,
Where he would make a man, far clean.
........