Upon the taking of my last breath,
I ask that no tears be shed.
Instead, I request that there be laughter,
Laughter to fill rooms and shake shoulders.
I want there to be joy upon my departure,
Joy that may follow me wherever I go.

Do not tell them the truth.
Tell them I died valiantly,
Protecting the helpless and
Playing savior for the weak

Tell them I was fearless,
Completely unafraid and unfazed
By anything that was ever placed
Obstructively in my path.

Tell them that I danced in the rain
And that I never got sick, ever in my life,
That I wrote beautiful things and
Spoke wonderful words.
Do not tell them the truth.

Or better yet, please do.

Tell them I was broken and frightened,
Pretending to be strong always.
Tell them I was a dreamer and I never woke up.

Tell them of the music I loved.
Speak of the people I greatly adored.
Tell them I was twisted, psychotic, confused
And beautifully, boastfully, blissfully so.
Tell them how I laughed as often as possible.
Explain how I never cried in the presence of others.

Tell them how I cared for others and how
I never did understand human nature.
Tell them you could never know me
Without knowing my deepest secrets.
Tell them how few people really knew me.

Tell them they are beautiful and loved
Because that’s what I would say, if I could.
Tell them goodbye and wipe their tears.

Tell the truth of my gloriously insignificant life
But only to the ones who loved me most.

'Why keep a cow when I can buy,'
Said he, 'the milk I need,'
I wanted to spit in his eye
Of selfishness and greed;
But did not, for the reason he
Was stronger than I be.

I told him: ''Tis our human fate,
For better or for worse,
That man and maid should love and mate,
And little children nurse.
Of course, if you are less than man
You can't do what we can.

'So many loving maids would wed,
And wondrous mothers be.'
'I'll buy the love I want,' he said,
'No squally brats for me.'
. . . I hope the devil stoketh well
For him a special hell.

In the sizzle of the sauna I sat near a fellow
A giant and as black, my friends, as black as pitch could be,
Gentle eyes and gentle voice, melodious in cadence
It reminded me of the music of the singing whales at sea.
From Georgia in the deep south, friends, a basket ball pro player
And as pleasant a man, my friends, as you could wish to meet,
Coaches the kiddies be they black, white or yellow, friends,
Coaches the kiddies throwing hoops in the street.
You just don't meet a Prince in the sizzle of the sauna
But I'll tell you, my friends, I'll tell you this for free,
That a better Ambassador for mankind and Maker
Has just not been apparent, friends, apparent to me.
He held out his hand, and smiled, and asked in passing,
Asked me my name as I rose to take my leave,
I felt the strength of the grip of that firm hand in clasping
And found me a friend, my friends, a good friend I believe.

Marshalg
Making a friend in the heat of the sauna
26 April 2013

In my first life, I died
The year I turned 25,
And now that I’m in the hours before I ******* second,
I want to make it all the way to
28.27 years
cause when you divide that by 9,
You’re left with pi.

And because the universe isn’t just a
Straight line, you’ve got to use a formula to get around,
Get all up on that pi d because piety just
isn't logic enough for me, where  even the repentant
Are told they’re going to burn in purgatory, sweetheart, please.
Being alive and feeling was
sometimes hell enough for me.

In just a few hours before I’m sent through that
Tight tunnel,
I want to be judged by the god of
3.14159, the baker that made me
Mr. Blueberry Buddah
Master in the art of reincarnation.
I want to be birthed **** with just a dab of pure whipped
cream for a soul,
Drizzled sweet with the blood I never watched my
mother bleed for me
on the morning of my second birth.

But I gotta say, this bardo ****'s pretty odd,
Here the sky ranges in color gradients too specific like
“violent salmon” all the way to “lukewarm smoothie”
But once I get out, I know things will be strange,
owning a life that’s not quite mine to lose.
And even though I’ll have no answer to give, I desperately
Want someone to ask,

Stranger, tell me, how did it feel?

Theoretically, I’ll respond,
Well, I was kicked back into some ancestral dream
To meet everyone I will ever be, everyone
I have ever been and
Once I’ve met all of them,
Everyone I will never meet again.

And they'll ask,
Friend, is that why babies take so long to be born?

Yes, its because they’re shaking hands with the universe
On the way out of the womb.
At least, the one who will reach nirvana
After this life cycle circles through.

Lover, if I were to meet you again, will you remember?
Does your soul still have my story
Etched on it somewhere,
Or will you be washed clean of me,
The tabula rasa upon which Locke never wrote?

I won’t remember you, but
I have faith that you’ll find me,
Even lifetimes grow apart after too long.
It’s all about the company you keep because
They never stay.
And if that should happen, well,
We just met each other in an inconvenient life.

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

You are my apple king
i love you to your core
I love your rounded apple cheeks
And your tender age of four
Your dark shining eyes
Like little apple pips
The cheeky grin that you let slip
from your sweet rosey lips

You like the female breeds
Pink ladies, granny smiths
The sweetness of a braebern
Is what you're content with

Straight from the tree
Or from the shelf
Or from a bowl or box
Three a day
You munch and crunch
My little British ***!