who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone?

ogdiddynash Poems

who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone? that old unfriended thot, a nagging merry query was for awhile forgot, put on the back of an upper shelf, where dust motes and mites fear to trend thoughts, that I thought I had dispensed with, letting time build illusionary wry walls, fooling World Trade Center tall morose forlorn, pensiveness of red ant armies, incapable of black marker redaction, there is always one a lingering malingerer a sole fado singer, playing woeful jazz in the Quarter on an empty emoty street, dressed and guised as the soul of a solitary cancerous cell "survivor" cur overlooked, biding time, the surgeons gone, the drugs flushed, radiation burning no more begins then the unholy trilogy cycle worn out, overused... invasive categorically relentless maybes, what ifs, then oh goddamnnotagain because believed, on knee, I oathed that loathed, raven nevermore, ought that cracked door would be open yet like the New Orleans levee aged locks hurricane succumbed overflowed, overcome, keyholed, infiltrated, falllen to the enemy, mes enfilade, rumps up the black flag of surrender brain sneers periodically, like every other minute, ok, second, coyly asking penny for your worthless thoughts? just when you believed "no mas" was a prayer that had been heard, teeth kicked in, body snatching hordes and boors bad boys and ****** sitting high in the saddle again, grinning torturous tarty smiles at who, at you, fool! you're as alone in that place as insufficiently as that impoverished overused word can ere convey the nagging realization that when asking no one answers when your thinkings perish you your cutesy sweatshirt reads last standing poet alive, stabbed ded by awful-truths, you failed and all the black cats, have fled the neighborhood, just when need was greatest who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone, has been silently answered by silent applause, the last theater goer shuffles out, and turns and extends his middle finger his review leaves a singular impression, he looks familiar, gauntly ghost, he has accompanied me always and his finger is his triumphal parting shot