The funeral of poetry

Is poetry nothing more than the expression

of a morbid narcissism ?

_____________________________

At the funeral of poetry  

I sent my parrot .

who knows the customs.

It wears  formal habbits

of pumpkin's ritual ...

after the mourners' song,

the marching band 

launched into a oompapah requiem .

Absence was holding the hand of dementia

and the lord of flies went off 

to collect a few souls for the poor ...

  At the lost illusions pub ,

death arrives on the twilight express ,

bringing with it our guilty silences 

and moment of forgetfulness...

 Scultors of twisted worlds ,

in this lunar  chamber 

 woven from shameful  fantaisies ,

you will recognize in these decayed words

this vain reflection of your vanity ...

 Rag dolls and  unloved puppets 

sending out announcements into the clouds

which will fall at the foot of an inspired grave 

where a distracted poodle will left its paw... 

   Welcome at the funeral of poetry !