I want to write a poem
before I die
I want the minister to say
“… and poet”
at the end of a long list of accomplishments
(most left undone)
I want to imagine eyebrows raised
the look of surprise on faces
I have barely known,
the glance of approval from those
who come out of duty
rather than bond.
“A philosopher with heart”
one will whisper
to the nod of another
as every one
sits up a little prouder
for having known such a wonderful writer
C. J. Superstar
Is there a layer of irony in there? Is it like…a subtle joke in the form of a poem?
Either that or it’s a suicide note.
Let’s hope for the former.
A little humour, that’s all, Flannel and Sil. 
It’s a character, not me.
Continuing the stream of thought…… perhaps his relatives are relieved to find an excuse for this embarrassing, good-for-nothing dreamer? He was a poet. That explains everything. Now they have something positive to say when asked what he did with his life.
Their mature female friends will be suitably impressed. They will imagine a romantic man who wrote about unrequited love, the full moon, stars and flowers; someone they could nurture and protect. Their male friends will pretend they understand why a poet is different from a good-for-nothing dreamer. They will call him a writer rather than a poet and be content that he seemed to be important to those who know about these things.
natasha sits in the back row and hums:
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2A0wGO3c2T8[/youtube]
Throws a kiss and says “Goodbye”.
What will they say when I am dead?–
He suffered much, but was well read.
He left a lingering legacy–
A tome or two of poetry.
So if he dies misunderstood,
His poetry was probably good.
Hehe. I liked that, Ier. I particularly liked the line “He suffered much, but was well read” Very important.
I was expecting the last line to read “His poetry was probably not very good” which might be the truth that dare not speak its name… at least not at a funeral.
Thank you for the “Expanding Man” tune and particularly for the goodbye kiss, Ms Nat; she’s awesome. It puts another interpretation to the ‘expanding man’ theme. 
"His poetry was probably good " is the unexpected line that transforms my doggerel to something more. Don’t write what people expect to hear. You’ll only aid and abet their ignorance.
His words, the dead’s,
Lie on the floor
Splattered, with the blood
Of his fallen corpse
His lock-chest, the chest
Of his life’s work
Lies in dust
For a later time
Never time, the mystery
Is there, not to be solved
The words of relevance
The ones those, those
He knew, wanted to know
Soaked in crimson
Content, they burnt it
Content his wisdom lain
In his blood