THE FUNERAL PARTY by Jeff Callaway

THE FUNERAL PARTY

by Jeff Callaway



and if

in the event

i should ever find

my life cut short

by tragedy

or vice

and God forbid

my Mother's loving eyes

to ever have to look

upon her baby boy's demise

for the mere thought of her sweet sorrow

it makes me cry

inside

when not a part

but the whole of me dies

when not the whole

but a part of me dies

like

the devil inside

you got to roll the dice

sometimes

you have to let fate decide

and it's not always nice

and so

here is a siren song

to my heart's black intent

to be sung

in the main event

this poet's life

it does not commence

then it is this

i wish

you do in remembrance of me

you must party dudes

please get drunk to my memory

and if you should find

a fine glass in your hand

then

fill it with Canadian Whisky man

and hire a band

for the party to my demise

and to Suzie-Q's aqua blue eyes

and how bout a toast to poetry if you can

and then after that

how bout a toast to truth and beauty

and to true beauty

and its beautiful truth

and to loose women in short skirts

and my love for the muse

and to all that inspire

and to ladies who lit my fire

and to love and to Texas and to family

and so here here

to my cosmic universal family

all one (in the Trinity)

and to you blessed listeners

and you holy readers

who are reading or listening

now or later

and even to you poets and writers

from before

i sigh my last gasp

let me breathe

my own un-silent soliloquy

a request i must bequeath

even from beyond or of from even

these soul words

i've always longed to release

this requiem

is but a dream

for my poets funeral party when my poet's pantry is bare

and i do dare

anyone to assume

that love i never knew

for i even love all of you

and i have loved

it's true

i was even in and fell out of love too

and even this poem

is about death

and not taxes

when my stock crashes

my will and testament to ashes

inside my own Sir Walter Raleigh can

like a trash can punch party family reunion

farewell

when i'm dead

i wish for a fair-weathered

sense of zeal-like happy

silver lining inside the seams

of their soul

for my ghost song lap dance

funeral home romance

did you know the dead can dance

and here is the post-mortem play-list

and here is the death bed edition

by DJ Grim and The Reaper Mist

with my funeral soundtrack to bliss

and Norman Greenbaum's Spirit In The Sky

to please tell everyone to buy

my poetry

in this, my time of need

please to help me to feed

these lost children of me

the lost boys i can no longer feed (or find)

for their father knew much hunger

and much need

if he did indeed

ever get to be a father

before he got to meet his maker

or finish his last shot of Maker's Mark

he left his mark

and then went up to his maker

but he left his bed unmade

in his funeral party haze

he was dazed and confused

but the rules

for the party are:



there will be a fully stocked bar

so make sure all my buddies

get enough beer

with someone to drive

them home in their cars

like a designated driver

who is also

a porn star