My father was the gravedigger in the small New England town I grew up in.Not what I wished |
-Wasted And Bloated- by Keaton Foster Dead Decomposing Disease riddled Excrement Nothing Overtly exciting Just more of the same Corpses stacked Wasted and bloated From floor to ceiling I’m a gravedigger’s son But I have no interest In all that he does His macabre kingdom To me holds no future There is nothing here In this overindulged vacancy To which I aspire There are some things That people Should not hope To be the very best at This is one such thing I don’t want any of this He’s away My father The gravedigger Predisposed Leaving me in charge What a fool I’ll run this business Right into the ground Never again Will another say to him Here’s a few hundred bucks Dispose of this No questions asked He, my father says that he Could name every corpse Buried behind these gates And that he could tell you Where any one of them are And when he planted them He says the dead speak And that only those In tune can hear What it is they say To that I reply Horseshit I don’t hear a damn thing All that is here Is an abundance of nothing All that is hear Is marked land That stretches on From one ornate fence To the next I’m the gravedigger’s son But I have no interest In what he has done Wasted and bloated Stack bodies are everywhere The holes are marked Life it began Thus it will end Those so dead Are waiting to be laid to rest Forever in a place to be kept It’s not personal No living soul Should have a grievance With anyone in a state Of decomposition This is not about them Those stacked like cords of wood This is a about me The point that I must make Will let him know Understand The level to which I am willing to confess That I desire nothing of this He can keep his macabre kingdom It’s just not what I wish So here I am With my refusal to dig Instead I’ll wait until My father returns From what he was so sure Was more important Than staying here At first he will be shocked He will tell me I’m no son of his He’ll assure me that I screwed up And that I don’t have What it takes to run such a business I’ll be happy to assure him By both words and actions That he without question is right Wasted and bloated Those yet to be buried Are putting of One hell of a smell I hope he comes back soon… Wasted And Bloated Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |