SO LIKE DIG THIS, IT WAS MY BEST FRIEND ALAN'S FUERAL BUT I WAS BANNED WELL SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO THINK TWICE BEFORE YOU UNDERSTAND THEY THOUGHT ME A MURDERER, AS IF I HAD TAKEN HIS LAST DAYS THE THING THEY DIDN'T KNOW WAS ALAN AND I WERE BOTH LOST IN A MAZE
THEY LOOKED AT ME AS IF I WERE SCUM, TRASH AND DISPENSIBLE WELL IF YOU ASK ME THEY WERE ACTING LIKE THAT BECAUSE THEY WEREN'T SENSIBLE HAD THEY SEEN THROUGH THE CURTAIN I WASN'T THE ONE PULLING ALAN'S STRINGS BUT DENIAL AND TRANSFERENCE ARE WHAT DEATH TOO OFTEN BRINGS
AS A MATTER OF FACT NO ONE AT ALL COULD TELL ALAN WHAT TO DO ALAN WOULD SWALLOW A HANDFULL WHILE I JUST A FEW THAT WAS ALAN, SO ALIVE HE THOUGHT HE'D BE ALIVE PAST ME FOR SURE BUT NO ONE KNOWS HOW ONE WILL REACT TO A WORM ON A HOOK OR A LURE
SO THE USHERS USHERED ME OUT BY ALAN'S MOTHER'S DEMAND AND I DIDN'T GO EASY, THEY HAD ME BY MORE THAN MY HAND I REMEMBER HEARING THE SISTER AND OH HOW SHE CRIED WHILST I, HIS BEST FRIEND, WEPT LOUDLY OUTSIDE (C) 2011...~free cee!~
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Posted: Feb 2011
About this poem:
HE ONCE GAVE MY YOUNG SON A PUPPET SHOW WITH ONE RAW CHICKEN ON EACH HAND, THAT WAS ALAN, AND ALAN WAS, FOR SURE, ALAN.