So You Want a Poem of Death

So you want a poem of death?
Please don't stop and hold your breath.
Such things are not part of my lexicon.
I can write of human wrecks,
Or charming tales about sex.
But death is like trying to square a hexagon.

I can work a poem quite fine,
With stuff well-hid between the lines.
The meanings there for me alone.
I can telegraph the end,
Or hide a reference of a friend.
Or add a pun very sure to bring a moan.

I will often sing a song,
Of lessons that I think are wrong.
And yet still get taught today.
"Write" they will say "for yourself"
You're sure to have an empty shelf.
And "obsolete rhymed verse, just stay away."

So you want a poem of death?
I kindly ask don't get upset.
For I find the older that I grow.
Everyone's biography,
Has two dates in parenthesis.
The second is what no one wants to know.