I like three things that make
Me unpopular. Science, Poetry and Quizzing.
I’m not for the barbecue and the beer.
I’m in my own way in the IUCN red list,
And unless I get my wife pregnant,
Soon, I will become extinct, just
Like my lineage and my surname.
We are all fighting to leave behind a legacy.
No one will remember an epitaph,
Stating you were courageous or went
Against popular culture.
Every man leaves behind something
The clutter on an e-mail account, in a shoe box,
Inside an attic and mostly inside a dead brain.
The brain is your collective intellect, what made
You Homo sapiens, the wise one.
You don’t have to get elected by votes,
To be a parliamentarian,
Being a nocturnal owl would get you there.
I’m just fighting for my own legacy,
My roots that sink into so many hearts
Close to me, and will bear papayas in my absence.
Yes, absence, does make the heart grow fonder.
You are not what you are, or who you are,
No one will talk about your sexuality
Or what top notch job you held,
You’re only a wise owl’s inquiry;
“Whom, whom, whom”
– Did you love?.