Like banging a drum
                      passed the graveyard,
it's all he can do
to tell himself.. it's not hard.
The tombstones cast an iery light,
you can hear the faint sounds of trombones
caught behind the moon
on this chilly night.

One makes stands
higher than the other,
he recognizes this
to be his brother.

Then he takes out the fold-together  *****
from his back-pack,
and commences to dig.
He digs and he digs,
the pile of dirt grows around him..

then all of a sudden.. clunck-clunck...
he hits the ornate casket with a rock hammer,
that casket that was bought and sold
by the many wails and tears
of the family and friends.


out strikes the rock hammer,
...thud...thud...,thud.

he says to himself.. this must be hardwood...****.. I should have brought a drill!.

aghh the life of a grave robber... not quite a coffin cheater.
his hands are ***** now, and the midnight sky twinkles dissent.

it's plain though,yes its plain,it's plain it's plain...

Digging' up your own brother for a watch and a suit that might not even fit you.. and what else.. a couple of rings.......  good luck to you.


© 2013