Notes from a grave(Poem)

On the 2nd of April, 1875
I, Alexander Wendt
descended beneath
after a mild cardiac arrest.

For a few years,
some came to see me
with blue iris and calla lily.

Then, the old bones
were forgotten.
I was erased from the love of family,
like a blackboard after a long lecture.

There are no great deeds on my name
no philosophies or creeds to carry my name
like Marx or Mao
Thus the spirit is forever erased from
the future remembrance.

The grave became anonymous
and was abandoned in the ocean of graves.

One Alex came by in 1923
i never know why
probably to trace old fuckers of the family tree
or just confused.

What am I writing anyway?
the old grave is leaky
raindrops fell down
Tap on these worn-out soul.

—Drunken ghost.

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