I’m staring at dead men
so does that make me
a dead man?
to lay wake in a cemetery
precociously pondering
on my centenary
if the people amongst
the slabs and the shrubbery
went to a place
different to what was
their ordinary
what about this life is
ordinary?
to pose a question
about the dialectic
to a diabetic
would serve nothing
sweet
amongst seraphim
as a form of appeasement
I may consider hymns
if with it comes
peace.
Edward Adonteng 