Cast were my eyes on a myriad epitaphs.
My heart art sour as tears trickle down my sober cheeks.
Tears which are generously concocted with my cry of sorrow.
Man is dead when alive,
Yet alive when he is dead.
Helplessly they lay in their tombs,
Awaiting the gavel of the after comer.
Six feet down is bone, decades ago was flesh.
Six feet down is soul, decades ago was death.
Man lived not but in evil, manifest error.
Bathed in gin and fornication all his days.
Countered the rudiments of scripture’s call
Didst thou live at all?
Now they are faced with their living price.
Admitted into their paradise,
Or the depths of a torturous abyss.
Carcass? The life had just begun.
On this mission I scribe, folks were martyred.
The word still reigns and amongst us, scattered.
Hearken mortals, if thee besiege a peaceful hereafter.
To willingly receive the inevitable blow with a smile.
The Yiah 