Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Epitaphs On Bar Napkins

lines for my curmudgeon father

Beneath this sod
Lies Marty Mooney.
Just as soon he
Flouted God
He lies beneath!

Oh yeah?

To us bequeath
His long life's lesson.
Morality impressed on
Him was lost on him.

He smoked, he drank, he screwed.
He broke the law, was lewd
In speech, was brutal
With women and kids, feudal
In his lordly, outrageous demands.


You might think
You're such a smarty,
Careful to stay in the pink,
Extra careful not to party.

Careful to be good,
And to be good and careful.
Also, careful to be cheerful
And not distress your fellow man.

Consider this:

In this grave,
Here lies our Marty,
His soul unsaved,
His laughter hearty
To the last.
His time has passed.


He disdained your values.
He hated people and their protocols.
He loved his life,
In his own remote fashion.
He lived it recklessly.
He preferred to be alone.

And he lived a long life, man.
Without repercussions.
He lived the normal life span.

End of discussion.


Here lies weary, alcoholic Marty,
Who sometimes was life of the party,
But often was so sick of mankind
He was cynical, paranoid, haughty, and unkind.

Here he lies,
Beneath this cold stone.
In this hard-frost ground
He is at home.

He no longer needs
Unplug the phone.
He is finally, really,
Completely alone.

He is finally, really, completely alone.

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