Poet's Grave Poem by Christopher Teale

The only means to survival is death,
For I die to poetry,
I die to humanity,
to survive as a parody to man.

I bleed out the wholesomeness of words
Leaving behind the carcass
Of one who no longer is, but was
A voyager among the stars.

Must the essence die to cope
with this rotten world?
Must the soul be sold?
To feed the beastly engine of society

T’is a ghastly death for a flower
I weep! I weep!
The road, so steep!
Death! Death to all that is life!
This is the philosophy of the world