There Once Was an Obituary Poet

The Obituary Poet

There once was an obituary poet
Took the prose and sorta rewrote it
Those honored in verse
went too soon to the hearse
(though a few voluntarily chose it)

All lives  (he guessed) were precious
But few deaths stopped the presses
But if you’ve made The Times
You’ve done something sublime
Or else left with infamous messes

He focused mostly on artists
Or folks who know of catharsis
But all shared a trait
Just barely  “the late”
And all of them motes of stardust

There was no pay, what’s new?
Poets are OK with this view
Though the world has changed
Due to He-Who’s-Deranged
Some things will always be true

But for a few days he’s changing tactics
Not being funny, fey or sarcastic
Hey, we are so at the brink
What say you go to this link
You can pay with check or plastic

He urges you to spare some funds
Because the world is so unfair it’s  dumb
And immigrants enter
They get centered and mentored
At the Center for New Americans

There once was an obituary poet
Whether buried or estuary floated
His answer was rhyme
To the assault of time
On those arbitrarily demoted