The Dead Poem by James McLain

The Dead: and there voices here
all around me;
Rushing towards death,
after a few go bye and what is another.
Some mothers son, some fathers daughter
the bullet is fast, it leaves all relaxed
like death at the spa, while your sphincter
does it's last duty better, than I ever could.
It drinks as it slaughters and laughs
it's laugh, right there where it hurts
there between your eyes
right below where you breath
and up above
the last bright yellow sun spot
that you saw.
So fields of sunflowers happy and mellow
I see them all
each do I see, when I pass them all
as I walk and they fall row after row
like wheat on the field come the fall..
There is beauty in all that I see,
knowing in my hand Is my why that I held
your face and it's mine it was yours.
Let it come then quickly
and make me no example too die like that
on some far away spot a pin pricked dot.
Rushing towards death
am I with; The Dead.