The Official Account of my Death

The Official Account of my Death


William S. Tribell




All the way from the Renaissance and that lasting ripple
And of course the ancients—learning, discerning deceits
Those sinister sorts of questioned character—Marlowean intrigue
The real stories, life and death, history and mine—the eye
I was born scorned and a strong hypothesis, born forsworn
Endowed—a great mind, but then you find slip and transgression
Bedded and barter—food from the larder
Feeding a service disappearing to ferment insurrection
Intelligence, ideologies and a bit of dodgy business along the way
Tested and weighed against the common sort—just read the reports
And later everyone finds your number, making their own inquests
That classic ruination of rumination—we all write alone
Forgetting one’s station, so few placations, and therein the implication
Unsavory company and brawling, stalling… too smart to be exploited
But they let me live to exploit myself—no one is backing down
Vile heretical conceit and a coroner’s report
With a reckoning left to whom may find concern



William S. Tribell is a multimedia artist. Perpetually nominated for fancy poetry awards, he has contributed to journals and magazines around the world. His new collection of poetry, “A Duke’s Mixture and a Hill of Beans” received sponsorship for submission to consideration for Pulitzer Prize Nomination in Poetry and has been accepted. An oversexed ne’er-do-well starving artist type with erratic sleep patterns, a penchant for travel and selfish over-indulgence, Tribell blames most of his character flaws on not receiving enough hugs as a child. He thinks sushi is great, his favorite color is green and Koala bears freak him out. 


Sign Up for the Weekly Review

Stalk us through the Mind-Farms of Social Media...

Or Check Out These Links!