Death cafes

 Turned away by death at the death cafe

As if death is a club that only some are welcome

Even death didn't want me

In their clique set

Don't die among us we are superior beings

Turned away by death

I'm gonna have to live forever

In your Stalinist bureaucracy

Of brutalist NHS workers

And elderly, old age home carers

Turned away by death

"Your time hasn't come yet

You have yet to reach the heights

That we would have wanted"

Perhaps when you do,

Will you let us know

Then we'll consider your petition

To be let in the doors of the Art bank

Where it's ruled

By indescretion

And the self destructive instinct of

The meek on the make 

who try and hold vigil with their later selves

In some phoney seances

Who claim to be so mystical, spiritual

Or marvellous

That their coy apprehensions

Don't mask their great pretensions

That they think themselves

Better than the average for

Placing retributions on their poor

patients who've they've somehow mishandled

These are the middle managers of 

The healthcare professions

They come down from Bristol or Brighton

Where their enlightened ideas

Glistened

And their ideas are meant to dazzle us

Into trusting their intuition

But they are the selfish slaves of a ruined institution

That NHS that just eats itself

And all who come into its revolutions

Like a planetary giant

Sucking hapless asteroids

And passing neutrons

But why lose sleep over those

idiots

It's best just to avoid doctors and the self-proclaimed healers

They are just avoiding the reality of death 

Like everyone else

Whether by television, drugs,

Alcohol

Or even walks in the countryside

Nothing bears witness

Like the soul in restitution

Just don't turn me away

From another bloody

Death cafe

ressurrection