It’s What He Would’ve Wished
After I die I would like as little fuss as potential, no grave, only a smallutilitarian sequence of pyramids.
After I die bury me inside my very own head. As in life so in dying.
After I die or if I die, and in the intervening time immortality seems to be themore seemingly possibility, you could have to reverse again over me a fewtimes to make certain, whereas howling for me to please shut up.
If I die on bin day, take the win.
Don’t stand at my grave and fry a truffled omelette servedon rye.
If I ought to die earlier than I wake, I pray my soul is good as cake. If Ishould wake earlier than I die, I pray the factor is hard and dry.
After I die don’t cremate me in a flame-retardant bodysuit‘as a joke’.
After I die take solace within the truth my agonies are over and that Iam at peace or writhing on a lake of fireside.
If I die earlier than returning your favorite casserole dish, and youtoss and switch at night time questioning if it will likely be cunty to boost it withmy executor, or in the event you may simply sneak into my house andtake it, however think about if my son was there and caught you in theact, concerning you sideways along with his silver and sorrowful eyes,or you could possibly anticipate an affordable size of time, risking thecasserole dish’s disbursement elsewhere, please be nonetheless. You knowme. Please recognise it’s what I might’ve wished that you just endure.
‘Once you die,’ you say to me in a sort voice, ‘your needs willno longer matter, so allow us to do no matter we wish to honour you.’ Iwould reply that I’m touched however you’re urgent too tightly tomy face the pillow.
After I die and am reincarnated as a Manchester United fan,kill me.
The 2 chocolate cash you had slipped onto my eyes as a prankwere in reality very pleasing to Charon the ferryman. He mimedeating them along with his pointy enamel and we each had an awesome snicker.He couldn’t let me aboard after all.
If my funeral planner is studying this questioning what I might’vewanted, recognize that I might not have wished a funeralplanner. A funeral, certain, however last-minute bedlam. The place’s thebody? I believed Leah was sorting the hearse? And so forth.
After I die do prod me with a brush, simply on the prospect.
Ought to it end up that, as would make numerous sense if we’rehonest, there is no such thing as a afterlife, please proceed to consider I amwatching over you and scowling.
For those who by no means had an opportunity to say goodbye, say it now. Put downthe defibrillators.
For those who by no means had an opportunity to inform me that you just liked me, I amaware it’s since you had been extra meh on me.
If within the final ten years of my life you struggled with mydementia, and may now solely keep in mind me that manner, tiresomeand screaming obscenities, suppose now of the youthful spryer selfwho wrote this, equally exhausting and obscene.
The one noble dying is by misadventure, inshallah.
In life I used to be haunted by remorse, so in dying I’ll flip the rolesand hang-out it again.
I’ll hang-out chip outlets, fridges jammed with V, WellingtonIndoor Sports activities, tile baggage, the bars and the beer halls and thepublic homes, after which I’ll die.
Get pleasure from, etymology nerds, the irony that dying will save us fromthe fixed mortification.
Bury me in a scoop of chips, as in life so in and many others.
Don’t bury my delusions of grandeur. They need to proceed towalk the earth, crowds pouring out of homes to cheer them on,saluted by sailors, curtsied at by wenches.
After I die they usually lay me to relaxation, you’re gonna go to aplace that’s depressed. After I lay me right down to die, I’m gonnarecommend you drink some spirits with a man.
Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, Clementine.You’re misplaced and gone endlessly. Or I lovebombed and youblocked me.
Don’t throw your self on my pyre. Throw your better-lookingfriend.
Cease all of the clocks. Stop manufacturing on these despicable AppleWatches.
Plywood coffin, outdated Persil field, sleeping bag and duct tape, a pileof leaves, complete metropolis of Dunedin remodeled into my personalnecropolis, no matter my pleasure can bear.
Place a factor for safekeeping in my coffin, similar to a feather ormy shopping historical past.
Bury me on one of many many hills I’ve died on.
Bury me in a joke pushed too far.
Bury me arse up.
After I die I would really like this poem learn out at my funeralbecause I feel it will be humorous, or humorous at first and thenmisjudged.
Taken with form permission from the newly printed assortment It’s What He Would Have Wished by Nick Ascroft (Te Herenga Waka College Press, $30), broadly considered probably the most dazzling poetry ebook printed in 2025, out there in bookstores nationwide.
