The Funeral
A hole in the ground
Near the edge of the wood
In a rural countryside
Hidden from view
A splintered pine casket
Carried aloft
By a shoddy-dressed crew
Of attendants
Then the procession
Of blue-suited Overseers
All in red ties
Their cold eyes shut
Away from this ceremony
A fence of barbed wire
Where the friends and relations
Stand sobbing behind
--
The box is thrown roughly into the ground
Resting uneven in mud
Then, the old Corpse is flung into the tomb
No respect, no care, no love
The lid pitched on top, nailing begins,
The casket sealed shut
No one can see Inside
The bruised body,
Covered in cuts
From the beatings suffered daily
By the Overlords and fiends
Cruelty is their name
--
Out behind the fence
Fear hovers high
The people cry
As they see their Hope disappear
The Overseers glare back at them
With malice in their eyes
Millions of potential graves
Yet to dig
--
The attendants begin to shovel
Spadefuls of dirt
Hurriedly, in a panic
Into the unmarked grave
--
But then from the casket
A hammering begins
A pounding, a beating
On the splintering lid
Then in a burst,
The box is flung open
The lid flies away
Into the sky
The Corpse stands
Proudly staring at the Overlords
Searing looks into their empty souls
Declaring the truth boldly:
“I AM NOT DEAD!!
I WAS ONLY SLEEPING!!
I AM DEMOCRACY!!”
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