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Not Dead Yet

by j.s.lamb 12 months ago in surreal poetry

Futility conveniently sleeps over at my place.

2 old 2 be a legend.

Way 2 young to be a corpse.

If I had 2 pick just 1 —

I’d stay alive o’ course.

* * *

Vanity, she combs my hair.

Conceit cleans up my face.

Futility conveniently

Sleeps over at my place

* * *

Tried to be a shadow.

’til the lights came right back on.

Got caught in a Kabuki jar—

My alibi was gone.

* * *

I’ve hurt 2 many people.

Seen way 2 many bleed.

Watched their life force fade away—

As uncle death suc-ceeds.

* * *

2 old 2 be a legend.

2 young to be a stiff.

Sorrow shames my epitaph—

Then slowly says, ‘What if?”

surreal poetry
Read next: Poem: New Life

Retired journalist. Author of "Orange Socks & Other Colorful Tales," a collection of short stories about how I survived the U.S. Navy and kept my sense of humor. (Available on Amazon.)

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