are you sure that we're supposed
to be buried in earth,
earth the closest we resemble
as ash...
             are you sure?
just wondering, because i've
just stopped looking through
my grandfather's rea ding glasses...
and what i saw through them...
was akin to having your eyes
open, underwater...
perhaps this whole one-size-fits-all
coffin packaging is great
to cut corners and run the treadmill...
hell, floating murk
of cremation on the Ganges...
if the druids were to be stirred...
the eyes of man,
  ought to be buried in the sea
or lake or river...
    the other body parts?!
dunno...
            because that would rob
me of the authenticity
of where I'd like my eyes to be buried...
or rather dropped into...
apart from the eyes and the brain...
i guess the druids would prefer
the modernised version of events,
given the progess of science...
    donor flesh...
               even the heart doesn't
exactly fit a burial worthy of
the earth... you could in earnest
bury a heart of a wild animal,
when performing a burial rite...
      but there's something
comical about the inverted necrophilia,
a higher tier of hue...
there is a dead man,
but a part of him is still living,
in another...
    hence my sour taste in,
peace be upon him, Christopher Hitchens'
atheism, banking on genes,
and an eternity solely via genes...
genes are but atoms...
      i see...
                 a heart of my calibre
beating for 10 more years in
a foreign body...
                and all this...
with the exausted poetic eucharist
of Christianity...
and before the techno-tenticle
explores...
         a complete inversion
of necrophilia...
         a subtleness of life...
         and the endless possibilities therein...
at least by cremation:
nothing is sacred, all is elemental...
not this, from dust you came,
but unto wax you shall return...
    Madame Tussauds *** doll
precursors, and a stag night joke
about ******* a helium sheep...
with all due respect,
peace be upon him,
there are more avenues to eternity,
than in the immediate sense,
atomist, procreation and the passing on
of genes...
           unless you are of course
a modern day Portuguese ****
with the no. 7 roy-al white...
less about prostitutes tier C,
   certainly not tier B (strippers and
the sugg'ah daddy teasers)...
    no, we're talking Gattaca ******...
tier A... surrogates.