My dear poetic friends,
I can no longer bear to lie, there's something I must tell you: I fear I'm going to die.
The other day I got real bored, so down my street I roamed. I ran into a man dressed sharply in black, whose sockets were dark and hollow.
I looked a bit closer at him, to see that his face was a skull. While gasping in shock I took a step back, and he gave me a smirk that was... dull.
He grasped my wrist and held on tight, then shoved his face inches from mine. He clacked his jaw in a robotic way, then whispered 'Its nearly your time'.
The reaper delieved his message quite clear, it seems death is coming for me. This here is my formal funeral invitaions for you.  
I hope you can make it, Vi

Deaf beethoven heard thy symphony
Genius Michelangelo from a rock curved thee
Blind Homer saw thy comely figure
Davinci painted thee superior to Mona Lisa

Ancient Greeks on papyrus praised thee
Today's poets on books we sing of thee
Time turn all beauty and beasts to ashes
But thou ancient lady like a phoenix rises from the dust

And so
Fog

Descends.

Fields from train
Disappeared

And luxurious
Time

Lost,
Sacrificed

She dug ***** after
***** of soil until
the hole was

long, and deep enough
to cover Brownie’s tan
and white speckled
body;

I was twelve years
old, and Beverly
fourteen.

One Saturday I found myself in Atlanta at an 'Art Show'
I became far more interested in the chaps cleaning the windows* ..

The colors clash
make a mess
an acid rain
drip drop
on the citizens
who wonder
why
Why
human nature.