Myseum Poem by Zyw Zywa

In my Myseum I display myself
in honorable creations
outside, I join the drum band
of the world and beat the drum
I love to be a big noise

not a dark empty Mysoleum, no
yellowed footnote in small letters
below the line of time, no dead
name in the family tree of billions
but eternally attractive

You and I know
that Myseums quickly decay
or they are looted
and filled with forgeries
clichés and explanations

together a big name
that you can drop
in a conversation, suggesting
that it belongs to the collection
in your wonderful Myseum