Venerate my demise
Venerate me at my demise
Whether I was a miser hard on dimes
A master charmer fixed on dames
A mixer and hod carrier fixing Dame Street
Bury me like I was a king
Abounding fires let girdle the spot
Vile earth in paces measured
Payments eclipse my sightless eyes boatman’s tithe
Sticks in the ground and oil rags wound round holding the fires
Styx underground, fourth of five rivers which heard Orpheus’ lyres
Bury me and feast merrily, blossoms garland and berries, mead and meat
Mete out portion, meet old friends, apportion out my demesne
My domain is not here anymore but some sense of me remains
Called to this event at which I am the Main
Like a shaved lion remanes, I will regrow and recome.
Bury me like I was a saint, next to a saint
Let my cot be vile but let not earthly doings taint
What should be a splendrous, wondrous affair;
Have it like a fair with attractions and abundant chortling.
When the christchild comes with his pounding angeldrums
When Eden’s feeding rivers dry. Sounds out an eerie ceaseless thrum
Saints will spring up fully formed, and those proximed have life given
Cordon off a place for me, make sure the ground be six feet riven
With myroblytes and bilocators, I’ll await the Son arisen.
Alchemisland 
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