ON MY DYING BED: JARCOO POEMS

On my dying bed
May I not look up the roof
          and count my foes off the darkening wood
          of my closing eyes
May I not remember on that day my precoius oil
          and the several basket into which I poured it

JARCOO POEMS

On my last couch
May I not remember the many pilots of my many planes
          who would land in unknown lands and rename my planes
May I not remember my happy tenants
          who would re-write the papers
         and owe my sweet corpse two years less
         and curse my widowed wife two times more

On my dying bed
May I not remember
           the thunder of my voice
           my saber-toothed words
           the cry of my servants
           the hunger of my slaves
           the billion in the bank
           the land in dispute
           the many case at law
           my political opponent
           the bullet in the ballot
           the other company executive
           and his widowed wife
           the annual general cheating
           and the profit after tax
           the children my wife doesn't know
           the wife my children do not know
           the lecture in London
           the book in progress


May I not remember that young maid
          whose hope I capsized in the ocean
                     of my caprice
          whose tears ducts I ruptured with the blade of my treacherous tongue

May I not remember those files that took me away from
                 my lonely wife,
                       my infant daughter
                       and my teenage son

On my dying day
May I not remember
           the happy song I didn't sing
           the good food I didn't eat
           the sweet wine I didn't drink
           the happy wife I didn't marry



As I sail towards the sunset,
            the sullen horizon beckoning
As I move towards the anticlimax
           that will topple all mortals
As I swim towards the final coast,
          the ebbing sea behind me
As I surmount the commas and colons
          to the final full stop that awaits all men
May I hear that day the whistle of favour
          from above
May I remember 
          the smile on faces
                      which I caused
         the laughter of friends
                      whom I loved
         the chuckle of birds
                      which I enjoyed
         the smell of the dishes
                      that I ate
         the peace of my house
                      which I cherish
         the echoes of truth
                      which I spoke

Thanks for taking your time to read this poem