And who’d appreciate the look
that others give a jerk.
I’ve mentioned in my testament
that all my writings ought
to go with me, so what I penned
would never count for nought.
I hope my relatives fulfill
this fervent wish for me.
But just in case, I think I still
will pack my own CD.
St. Peter, so they say, adores
my brand of poetry.
He’s faced with murderers and whores,
such human misery.
Here is my plan to get inside
right through the Pearly Portal,
My argument: A poet’s hide
would have to be immortal..