They are dying, she is dying,
I pray that she does, but I don't want to watch.
The door was barred, perhaps from letting life in,
or maybe letting death out.
Down the hall all the doors are open, and decomposition hits you,
in all its stages like a film reel.
Her room was by the dying one, my ears perched along the doorframe
and listened.
She was like a prophet, and upon her altar she screeched,
"DIE...DIE...DIIIIIIE!" I think she is right.
The passage continues and all around the images are swept,
left under soiled carpets and linens, hundreds of them.
They carry the dead away, but the scent lingers like cheap perfume,
a priceless perfume.
There's that silence again, the one I like you know? Yes, it covers your head like the goodbye sheets.
Objects get wider and clearer, life is ****** into a needles eye,
the view is breathtaking.
It's simple; breathing is simple, even on that machine its oh so simple.
That's how you live and tell your stories to the people on the television show because they have the time to listen.
There is no one else here. Except me, watching you and waiting.
I can't stay here with you. I have to share my visit with those running out on their clocks.
I know you see me when they give you your medicine,
somewhere between awake and asleep.
I'm glad you don't turn away, so many of you turn away.
Mildred two doors down said goodbye, she was a hard case.
I came and she cried, she cried some more and then she gurgled.
She heard me collect her memories and she said she understood.
A smile before her eyes rolled back forever.
Today is special for you Tom, you and I have gotten to know each other.
I am going to miss the way you welcomed me in, just like a star.
You are one of the bright ones, and you faded slow.
Those silly screens are messing up our act, Tom.
The ladies are running past me, they don't even see.
They are trying to keep you going with life you don't need.
I saved you til' the end, and right along the breeze,
I hear you thanking me.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
Some things speak out from the shadows.
Whisperings that are fervent and without understanding.
Reader tell me what this is ?
There is only one means of release for me.
Can you not feel it, that single word, that familiar word?
"Alone"…how it reverberates through the narrow
corridors of my veins,
echoing richly between my temples,
with promises of never leaving.
There was agony at first, I admit,
being torn from other creatures like myself.
I must say, transitions are slow in coming,
but the traffic of life faded into nothingness.
The choice was clear,
and made much earlier than expected.
A decision to be,
and become the comrade of such a lonely word.
Oh, how I have forgotten the intricacies of conversation,
but further still the acceptance of touch eludes me.
No matter…does it matter?…
YES it matters, but no one rams against this cage.
Please come and know me,
please in my isolation know this,
that stirring beneath the confines is more.
You must beat against the perception,
until your palms bleed and slowly you slide in defeat.
Defeat being ever so possible,
but because you tried
because I hear your sobs against the wall,
I love you most.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Buzzing alarms, striking eight o' clock with a plan,
Dressed pin-striped so I can meet " The Something Men".
Among them are the monotones that pierce no silence.
Reaching, SLAMMING on the clock a bit past ten,
Shedding feelings that hardly I can mention.
Patent leather hitting Own St., and I opened my briefcase at Soul Plaza.
Waking before the city lights close their eyes,
Deciding between the instant oatmeal or corporate bath.
Never will industry keep watch on me, I keep my own ******* time.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
FATE! Father's precious time to me
Within you; in me
hearing, undeviating the constancy of weak wishes.
Remember the house?
Oh! Excellent days and nights
saying no to your attachment.
Sooner could the years pass
relive each word
how my slipping dress must look.
Indeed, none watched but you
by the river slick, wet, and gone
listen to my pulse alone.
Even with the voice of spirit others
such primal need has been
when laid that flat to it.
Something broke and He overpowers
when her heart kissed freely
Death too brought its inconstant love.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
I shall never worthy be to step into Eternity.
Where I would walk in Spirit--and behold,
'Our elements resolved to things untold.
A sense o'er all my soul impressed,
that I am weak, yet not unblessed.
But thy soul or this world must fade,
in the frost that binds the dead.
Soft tears of fond regret reveal its smart,
and sorrow, restless sorrow, chills my heart.
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
the spirit of self-sacrifice.
Vows of my slavery, my giving up,
my sudden adoration, my Great Love.
Heaven notes the sigh afflicted goodness heaves.
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth?
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
Stricken from crown to chin.
Make the gag cover my vocal spin.
Let the earplugs cut my hearing thin.
A blindfold ******* to my temples let no sight in.
The archangel whispers through the din.
" Is it better to die than to sin ? "
Waging a feud on GREED is high.
Painted enemies, " ENVY !!! " they cry.
With a lance ****** for LUST, its point never dry.
To lean on SLOTH for a maidens sigh.
She served soldiers GLUTTONY pie.
Wine flowed freely and WRATH comes nigh.
PRIDE laughs with dagger at your backside.
The archangel growls, " To sin is to die."
Behold my confessional appointed slot.
Forgive me Father, for I knew not.
Be merciful to me, O God, for I cannot.
Why am I forsaken, to such common lot ?
Peace be still... delivered in a resounding shot.
Death is better than sin, my last thought.
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
Hunger is the cancer with a cure
bread lines are hiring open mouths.
The discarded pass with empty bellies,
an outstretched hand reaching for crumbs,
that never come.
Money is the panacea of poverty
prostitution wages are tax free.
When she opened her thighs
the world shifted on its axis,
AIDS was paid forward.
Play that on a Trojan commercial.
Freedom is an illusion
painted by white collars.
Section 8 homes are speakeasies
of the downtrodden.
Cardboard boxes are the architects wet dream,
and trash bin bonfires come calling me.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 7:34 PM UTC
Winter blasts,shrieking as pierced crystal in moonlight,
her figure trembles by the brinks edge.
Striking the center of her mind was a lost knight,
grabbing her sobs with tears frozen midcheek, before free falling from the ledge.
Spring, she wished to forget, when maid and man met,
stolen glances,verbal advances, a skins breach of indecency.
A single solitary evening was set, a tryst between Lachlan and Lizbet,
a tangled two caught in treasonous secrecy.
Blistering and bold, the summer, unforgiving,
imprisoned Lizbets' waist increases.
Lachlans' fate--no longer with the living,
a Lord may punish adultery as he pleases.
Fall, where all surrender to die,
a babe forced out silent, the demise of labors hope.
Barely clad the woman lingered, as did her lie,
the sentence one of repugnance and a length of hanging rope.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 11:49 AM UTC
Your pity is a cheap thing, I realize injurious truth
tattooed on pale canvas are illustrations
I should have never seen
and without bending I display them
on the outside of me.
Your pity is a cheap thing, I wiped myself clean
stinking of rancid perfume, oh former lovers
spectres that plague my bedsheets
when I'm beneath you saturated
by the outside of you inside of me.
Your pity is a cheap thing, I sizzled against you
whirlwind speech absorbed in clutch pillows
moisture betraying my timid refusal.
What is it that I can't beat
the power in you, subduing me.
You only pity things that come cheap.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
Heroes, processed in baths of blood,emerge spotless,
Oaths lanced on battered helmets and dirt dusted fatigues, the Hand of God upon the lawless,
Never let the barrel lay its head to an enemy, the shell casings remain fixed and fearless,
One solitary act propels man to sacrifice, it is still, timeless,
Remember the mark is invisible, carried on fitted sheet flags, to us, faceless.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC