Government should be an entity
continuously arising from and sustained by
the choice of the People
as opposed to
continuously sustained by artificial means;
that is to say,
Government should be
a post-hoc institution
with the Times;
Such is Evolution;
such does Life continue
such is neo-anti-sin.
Just underneath his Wickett tree
Douglas Milford died, you see.
He died the way old men die
When pausing deep within a sigh.
And there he stood and watched
The world, his world
Into the deep, the darkest,
Empty, soulless shade.
Shaded well, and sadly so,
For Douglas Milford discovered secrets
All dead men come to know.
That time, she waits for no one.
And that it was time to go.
Time called him
And Douglas Milford heard
And empty word-
'Follow,' she said,
And Milford knew
It was but one more thing
He was required to do,
And he felt that lingering,
Like the gentle turn
Of a gossamer wing.
And Death paused,
At a raggedy pond,
And said, "You must leave
Your dreams here,
Before moving on.
What you were in life,
That emotionless shell,
You cannot be in death.
It will not do you well.
So discard it right here,
And we'll be on our way.
It is part of the fee
To the price you must pay."
And so Douglas Milford
Collected each dream
Into a small satchel
He'd taken along,
And he poured them inside,
Every hope, every scheme,
Every wish, every want,
Every childhood song.
And he wrapped them up tight,
Without any delay.
And then he watched Death
Simply toss them away.
"Death is unkind,"
He thought with a sigh,
Not quick to noticed
There was no longer a sky.
And that the air
Rusted metals and soot.
And the road was not easy
To travel barefoot.
He was poor
And not so right.
His boney feet
So thin and small
Did not show
He'd been quite large in life,
For, now Douglas did not seem so tall.
The cool wind against his face
Carried such a nasty sting,
His mind thundered in a rush,
And he remembered
Every little thing.
Ten years old he stood
And saw his mother cry,
And somewhere deep inside he ached
As he watched again his father die.
And his little baby sister -
Who came with the harvest moon,
Faded into the red and cold and gray,
Called away far, far too soon.
It was a pain that he could
And he cursed himself and
And there Death smiled,
For this pain had cut him
Like a knife.
"Why do I have to cling to these
Damned and fool-hearted memories?"
And he shivered with a quiet fear
As he wiped away a tear.
And Death told him,
"They haunted you in life, my friend.
And they'll haunt you to your very end.
They are the Ghosts in life
You could not change.
Cancel out or rearrange.
You've trained yourself so very well -
With your selective memory.
And you've crafted yourself quite a cell
By seeing only what you want to see.
All these years you've carried these
Little haunts you've hid so deep,
And you never could forgive yourself
For sins you did not plan to keep.
I am afraid they'll linger in your heart
And echo back from time to time-
It is the price you have to pay
When a haunt of guilt clouds up your mind."
And images danced against
The shaded thoughts within his head.
Every cold and empty thing
He'd ever briefly said.
Those words he'd shared with strangers,
Was he just arrogant,
Or completely blind?
Far too many moments when
All that he spoke
Was heartless and unkind.
Will they haunt me too? he thought,
Damn this vile retrospection.
Must I drag up everything
Accursed with indigestion.
There must be something good I've done
That Death cannot steal away.
Some memory locked so deep inside
The fates cannot betray.
And there he saw a spark of good,
A hint of gentle grace.
Was that Grandma? he wondered
As he saw her rosy face.
She shined with such compassion,
He longed for her embrace.
Her smile was so welcome
She brightened up this
But something in his mind snapped back,
And offered no reprieve.
"You are no victim, Douglas.
So do not grieve.
In life you lived just for the day.
You did every single thing your way.
You had no faith, and damned to hell
That eternity the preacher's sell.
You cared less for those with less than you-
And you cannot return to fix that.
It's a something you can't do.
There's so much you had no faith in,
For it wasn't your ideal.
But just because you don't believe in it,
Doesn't mean it isn't real.
This is your inheritance.
And you've worked hard for your reward.
You've hidden all your fortune,
And this it where it's stored."
And Douglas Milford rested some,
As if the day was finally done.
His bones, they ached,
His knuckles bled,
And there was a pounding
In his head.
And he swallowed dry the metal air,
And imagined a softly moving sea,
And tried to dream that he was there,
Still underneath his Wickett Tree.
That upside where it was cold and gray
Blue sky still welcomed in his day.
And that this ground,
Just shards of broken glass
Were soft and cool as new grass.
He tried to drift into his dream
Of peaceful quiet on a hill,
That gentle breeze that carried every
Song sung by the whippoorwill.
He wanted blue sky overhead,
And crickets chirping by his tree.
He longed to hear a story read
About how good a life should be.
But the jagged thorns that pricked his heel
Brought him back to skies of gray,
And to the shaded shards he knew as real,
That Douglas Milford died today.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
"For death begins with life's first breath
And life begins at touch of death."
Bruises and cuts;
They go away.
Can affect a person's life,
I think it is the most beautiful thing about me
When I hear music,
My voice goes on autopilot
I let out a serious of notes
And when these notes connect,
It makes music
I make music
My voice is my life
For friend's will come and go
Boyfriend's certainly don't stay
Family sometimes drifts apart
But at the end of the day
When you have nothing left
You will always have your voice
I can't take your calls anymore
Something's just not right with your mind
I can't stand the way you try to control the things you can't help in your life
Because even when the skys are blue
Your still living in a tragedy
And even when its going good
Your still impossible to deal with
I wish you could see yourself
Take a good hard look
I wish you could just be yourself
Your trying to impress the world
But your just another mindless, failing robot
Circling the depths of nonsense and chaos
You're a product of the dogma that comsumes the currupted mind
One that stabs uncertainty with darkness instead of light
But somethings are not exactly what they seem
Sometimes I'm forced to drown in echoed bloody screams
And pretend to be somewhere else in this misery
I'll pretend you were only trying to protect me
As I wish upon another hopeless, dimming shooting star
Concentrate on anything else but this headache you make pound on my brain
If only magic exsisted
And I had it in me
To just fly out of this nightmare and into the sky
Would you leave me alone and stop calling
Because I can't take your phone calls anymore
I once wrote something in his
diary for my birthday, but I
actually read a page or two
of his life. A particular story
in which he wrote, all I
want to do is wake up
and make her breakfast,
that is my dream and at
the time all I could do was
smile. I wish I had written
more, but don't we all?
as with good red wine
life is best only half full
we need room to breathe
[or more reasons I want to slap you right across your pretty face]
my brain informed my arm to
tell my hand
to pick up a pen and
tell of your voice
the first time
i hear your particular vibrations
your sound waves
over the air
i almost drove off the side of the road
...now i have to close my eyes
and hold my breath
trying to hear a silent memory
stored in a recess of my mind
your voice has a musical quality
a warm tone
that i miss
this brings me to your perfect, hateful lips
(really, i could do without all of this nonsense)
this very moment my heart is pounding
right out of my chest
my jaw clenched
my eyes glaring stubbornly into blank space
release me from this madness...
i just want to get through the day
without this ridiculous longing
just one goddamn day...
...back to your stupid lips
i like shapes
and yours are the exact right shape
to taunt me
you grew that scruffy sexy stuff
just to drive me insane
i'd also like to slap you
for informing me of your jogging habit
my imagination is quite active
and the last possible thing i need
is the sun...
glinting on your hair
on your stupid muscles
i mean, seriously?
i've almost run down 18 men
that look nothing like you
because of this insanity
that has saturated my brain
never in my life
have i been slammed
with such desire
how to end this madness
but forced to remain still.
letting words flow
trying to calm the mind.
but my body wants to m o v e .
my heart wants to explode
my breath wants to quicken...
my voice wants to escape...
my nails want to claw...
my teeth want to bite...
this is getting me nowhere...already i feel the new words coming
To the human who bears the marks of an angry partner, the young adult who struggles to humanize the body that others have objectified for so long, and the child whose mind bears the seeds of poisonous hatred waiting with baited breath to burst with life as the offhand comments increase in number. Take the sharpened blade with conviction and place it far from your traitorous fingers. Believe my words, blood pulses through your throbbing veins, not the black ooze of hatred. Your skin will never be a canvas to taint with red. The red will collide with the peaceful cells, and the violence will not be a masterpiece. You are not just a number, you are a fucking gorgeous universe encompassed in mere atoms that strive to do your essence justice. Gather your soldiers and prepare to fight the enemies that make your body an anomaly or your struggle commonplace. Those horrible nights, where only the moon bore witness to the horrors you carved, are not “typical” and should not be a widespread ritual. You are beauty incarnate. I implore you to lace this statements around each particle in your body until your cells sing with conviction, and fight those who have brought you to your knees. You do not belong there.
her skin was like a pure driven snow
laid behind the deepest blue eyes
and the brightest ruby red lips
you could not look at her and not
want to kiss those soft velvet lips
want to stare into those eyes
want to touch that skin
feel her run her long fingernail
up the spine of your back
to the back of your neck and chest
the nerve endings all over your body
exploding messages of pleasure
the chance meeting in the park
in an early spring warming sun
flowers beginning to burst with life
trees reaching up with their new leaves
you could not take your eyes off
sitting on the edge of the fountain
spewing a water spray from an angels mouth
two angels together in one slice of time
you waited as long as you could
it was time to return to work from lunch
and you had already run 10 minutes over
you walked past her dreading leaving
she looked up with those big blue eyes
and those ruby red lips began to move
you transfixed not realizing she was speaking
you stopped abruptly trying to clear your mind
but still no sound could be heard
only her big rimmed straw hat of white
the the bluest blue eyes
and reddest red lips
and her white alabaster skin
luckily she recognized the symptoms
and smiling put her hand on your arm
and waited patiently for the blood
to return to your brain
oddly she spoke with an island accent
how could this creature come from the islands
the sun and sand and alabaster
she was a princess mandated to sanctuary
on a holiday with her father
who was on business stop here in Atlanta
she knew no one here and the park
was just across the street from her sky suite
for some reason she felt okay speaking with me
now I was 30 minutes late as I took
a quick peek at my watch
you must go she asked?
Yes but can I show you the city later
Yes she smiled to me
I think I would like that
after getting her room number
I triple skipped, jumped and hopped
back to my office my head still abuzz
I stared into dreamland for the next 4 hours
you gonna stay over my boss yelled to me
I shook my head OMG it was 5:05
he yelled you gotta date Rob
yes an affair to attend to I said
an alabaster affair
Gomer LePoet ....
and reddest red lips
and her white alabaster skin