It Was LAST Month? (fourth entry)

And now, for better or for worse, here's the sequel to " ...I Put Away Childish Things," the continuing story of the young man nicknamed "Moses," he of the all-too-vivid imagination.

And be warned. Outside of The Godfather, Part II and Rocky II, sequels are rarely as good as the originals!

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Another Look at Moses (05/29/1979)

There's a young man in a graveyard,
Known as Moses when a teen.
You'll find twelve lots to a section.
Moses stands at Lot Thirteen.
Long ago, when last we saw him,
Moses shot his phantom mate,
Thinking surely it would free him
From his pre-determined fate.
He threw off the dreams of childhood,
Then found out too late his curse.
"One can't flee one's own creations."
Roxanne's slaying made things worse.

Take another look at Moses,
Putting flowers on a grave,
Wishing memories would fade off
And his sinner's soul be saved.

There is nothing where he's standing
Save what's in his tortured eyes,
Telling him the girl he murdered
'Neath the ground before him lies.
When he leans to place no flowers
On no weather-beaten stone,
The child Moses grieves for her,
And the adult's glad he's alone.
It's been years since his solution
Proved more trouble than 'twas worth.
Now he curses his decision,
Curses more his very birth.

Take another look at Moses,
Looking sadly at the grave,
Wishing memories would fade off,
Sort of crawl into a cave.

Now his soul-searching has ended.
There's but one road left for him.
Things must always come full circle
To appease the Planners' whims.
He should never have denied her,
Never made her leave that way.
Not-so-sadly now, he joins her.
He shall not grieve one more day.
On the next day, when they find him,
He'll be cold and dead, for sure,
And they'll never see the weapon
Moses used to find his cure.

Take a final look at Moses,
Lying lifeless 'cross the grave.
All his memories have faded
With the life he gladly gave.

* * * * *

As I said... a vivid imagination. A real killer, ya know? A real mind-blower! And I'll bet he used the very same gun to blow his brains out as he did to off his little sweetie! Hee hee hee heeeeee!

Oops, sorry, turning into the Crypt-Keeper, there! Guess that all this morbid poetry I've been revisiting (plus the whole Bea Arthur thing...) has warped me a bit.

Current plans are to end my belated tribute to National Poetry Month tomorrow, the day before the next "Theme Thursday." I'll try to find something more cheerful -- and more recent -- to end this week or so of poems & songs with, but knowing myself as I do... I doubt it.

Oh, and by the way... How'd you like that ominous quote, "One can't flee one's own creations?" I put it in quotes like that to give it an air of gravity, but... I wrote that line.

Thanks for your time.