Funereal Farce

It's what he would have wanted

A queue of traffic 500 m long

Down a narrow ridge road

With barely enough space for cars to pass

It came to pass

That as he passed

And the funeral guests arrived

The mourners in their Toyotas and Hyundais

In their Vauxhalls and their SUVs

In their Ford's and Mazdas and Minis

That the poor man who was the star of the show

Could not get to his own cremation on time

The hearse was blocked in

The hearse reversed, it shunted forward

Inch by creeping inch

At a snail's pace

Even slower than the slowest mourners

looking for the last parking space

And what is the world coming to?

When you can't even get to your own funeral for congestion

 Honestly

But it's what he would have wanted isn't it?

For all these well wishers, with tears in their eyes

And expensive looking suits

Setting trends in funereal fashion

To drive, all individually to his cremation

On the Mendip hills

Now that's using your head!

And who said tiredness kills

And as the body lifts and bends from the pelvis

As if to make one final point "and another thing!"

In the burning holocaust of the furnace

"Stop driving to funerals!"

Then as flesh melts from bone

and bone crumbles

The skeleton falls

Apart

And what advice he would give

Would we listen now?

No longer human in form

Perhaps once the flesh was willing

But the spirit?