The dos and don'ts of burying me

Let goods and kindred go.

Don’t, my townspeople,                       hype the hyphen,
Those fill-in-the-blah-blah-blank                   years
Between some b and its                       subsequent d.
No prattling on of how I                      scribble-shilled for salaries,
Of how I shuttled my several             offspring thither

After quick stops at some                               hither or other,
Of how I ballpointed            almost-subversive verse
Around potluck                    save-the-dates
In Baptist bulletins.                           None of that
Celebration of life la-tee-da             I’m dead now.