with no ounce of strength, I laid full length
staring at the roof of the church
I notice the flapping, of a maya bird choosing
which chandelier she should perch
and I hear a man talking, to an audience sobbing
speaking like he had something to preach
I laid there still, getting my fill
of life's stories he wanted to teach
but I lost concentration, by the maya bird's action
she has perched on my casket's door
then I saw mother crying, my father denying
and my lover stood fast on the floor
you can see she is strong, I knew her for so long
but she's saddened for her artist is no more
II
'though I am gone, I knew I'd live on
through my work, my art and my song
then I remember, in one September
my work, someone done me wrong
I thought I would live, through the poems I leave
and thought all would know to whom it belong
those words were my life, my joy and my strife
but he took them and passed it as his own
I guess it dies with me, my name, art and beauty
and everything I've done and shown
so where's my art now, he stole my work, and how
this artist's name will never be known
this is how an artist dies, with plagiarism and lies
that is why the most beautiful minds
die alone.
-Orville "chubby" Basas
