georgegrogan - Hello Poetry

Like an ash from a flame fallen to the ground… I am cold, gray and dead. Like an ember once amid the flames burning bright I am thrown down and trampled underfoot. George Grogan

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Jul 19, 2017

Jul 19, 2017 at 12:03 AM UTC

georgegrogan

Dead In Depression

Like an ash from a flame fallen to the ground… I am cold, gray and dead. Like an ember once amid the flames burning bright I am thrown down and trampled underfoot. George Grogan

8

When my cold, gray body lay in dark wet ground In that day when my voice no longer sounds Remember me who loved you more Remember me who loved you most (And meet someday on heaven’s shore) You and I as partners have run the Kingdom road For us to leave and forsake were not mere words We followed His grace and heard His voice Stored up treasure in the life to come please forgive me If for a moment I lost sight of heaven’s prize and in my weak folly was lowered in your eyes Walk backward my love and forget those days Walk backward with a mantle of grace and let love cover my naked shame Remember me who loved you more Remember me who loved you most George Grogan

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Jul 19, 2017

Jul 19, 2017 at 12:01 AM UTC

georgegrogan

Remember Me Who Loved You Most

When my cold, gray body lay in dark wet ground In that day when my voice no longer sounds Remember me who loved you more Remember me who loved you most (And meet someday on heaven’s shore) You and I as partners have run the Kingdom road For us to leave and forsake were not mere words We followed His grace and heard His voice Stored up treasure in the life to come please forgive me If for a moment I lost sight of heaven’s prize and in my weak folly was lowered in your eyes Walk backward my love and forget those days Walk backward with a mantle of grace and let love cover my naked shame Remember me who loved you more Remember me who loved you most George Grogan

20

I roll from bed.., awoke: too a strong a word My head aches and my frame shivers and shakes A sick feeling washes over me and I lay back down It was a great night …it must have been…right? Guilt washes over me.. with a furtive glance i look around Did I leave some sign? Does she know? I see her watching me from the shadows with a withering look Her arms crossed together, eyes that no longer cry tell the story The hurt, the pain, the lies have all taken the their toll And I wonder if today will be the day she goes or if shes’ already gone my wife no longer longs. life a dull drudgery like a hiker lost in the woods head down, she slowly moves one foot in front of the other… hour by hour and day by day… knowing the end is inevitable Our romance is like the silver ash of a fire that once burned bright now cold and dry it didn’t break just crumbled under unspoken weight Deeper than passion has been our friendship and that has been trodden on, pressed into the ground Love is not enough, it may keep us together but my sin keeps us apart I know she is here because her shadow accuses me every day but am afraid that her heart has left and withdrawn deep inside of her to a safe place where I can no longer touch it For you see, we are no longer …two in one, …but three. Her…Me…and the Drink. When we started she was my mistress.. we would sneak away and play late into the night. I looked forward to the times we had together. No one understood me… but her I could relax and be myself, laugh, cry and shout But somehow she has become my master and it is no longer want, but must that drives me to her. She even sleeps with us, invading the most intimate place of our lives. She eats my food..leaving me with no appetite. My dreams have faded until they are ghosts, purpose, passion and destiny are words that now mock me. She monopolizes me…taking all my time, I look at them, the kids... need the father I once was, especially the little one , .. tomorrow…soon, I will make it all right And put away the Drink But somehow she has taken my energy “to do”. I haven’t quit wanting..i have just quit doing She has drained my spirit and stolen my soul not in a rush like a hurricane but like a hidden cancer slowly eats away a hole… making me fat, lazy, stupid and grey grey in heart, like a sail with a gaping hole The winds may blow but have no affect on me AH! But I will stop all of this… I will be what I once was, ….NO! even better. I will do it! Yep, tomorrow, or the day after. After all there is no need to waste what I have hidden… I will get rid of it tonight and then I can quit. It will be easier if there is no drink laying around The car door closes and they drive away I can’t believe my good luck! Alone for the day! I open the closet, pulling back the wall I pry out the hidden bottle I smile.. my wife is clever and thinks she knows everything about me and my ways Oh but she could never guess how clever we are! She calls it “sneaky, lying and decieving”… She is soooo serious! Lighten up, babe! its just a game! Right? I win this round! Ha! I pull the lid and move the bottle to my mouth No, not here. This is a special moment that deserves preparation. I go into the living room move the chair toward the tv and put in the tape that I will soon forget Fumbling in the kitchen I get a small glass (no wanton wanting (at least not now) no sloppy rushing the trough but slow and deliberate alcoholic foreplay.. Like a doctor preparing for surgery i make ready for my private party I slowly fill my glass halfway eager anticipation and a sense of fulfillment overwhelm me I laugh out loud and make a toast …one of many that I will make tonight. The first (from The groundhog day movie) is to world peace. There are stages I go through or places I land when I drink The first is a wam feeling of relaxation My Irish heritage crying out “drink and be merry” (it must have been the Germans or some other overly organized race who inserted...for tomorrow we shall die!) I find myself laughing hilariously at the movie, myself, the world in general I know what I need I think to myself! Something to eat! Not too much because I wouldn’t want the food to dull the power of my drink I stumble into the kitchen and prepare a huge meal I am halfway through it when my laughter turns into crying. Like it was only yesterday I cry with bitter grief over my dead father, my sister, and on and on… My heart is flooded with painful memories and in anguish I weep I believed for a long time that this crying was good for me An emotional release that allowed me to vent past pain But I am convinced that alcohol is a magical drug. It can raise the dead and resurrect memories long buried It brings to life every hurt, offense, shame and pain with amazing power Like a trapped and tortured animal the pain turns to anger. As a thunderstorm moves across a purple sky A deep and dark rage begins to rise A sense of outrage that crys NEVER, NEVER AGAIN! Like a chained dog teased by those just out of reach I find myself shaking my fist at ghosts and days gone by But this also fades… at least for the night, like an extinguished fire leaves a blackened forest the rage leaves a dark sooty stain upon my soul I feel exhausted, very tired and sleepy The black and gray screen on the television flickers I can’t remember what movie I was watching or when it ended I roll from bed.., awoke: too strong a word My head is aching and my frame shivers and shakes A sick feeling washes over me and I lay back down It was a great night …I am pretty sure. Guilt washes over me.. Did I leave some sign? Does she know? And I see her watching me from the shadows with a withering look Her arms crossed together, eyes that no longer cry tell the story The hurt the pain the lies have all taken the their toll And I wonder if today will be the day she goes or if shes’ already gone D**n, I need a drink!

0

Jul 18, 2017

Jul 18, 2017 at 11:58 PM UTC

georgegrogan

The Drink

I roll from bed.., awoke: too a strong a word My head aches and my frame shivers and shakes A sick feeling washes over me and I lay back down It was a great night …it must have been…right? Guilt washes over me.. with a furtive glance i look around Did I leave some sign? Does she know? I see her watching me from the shadows with a withering look Her arms crossed together, eyes that no longer cry tell the story The hurt, the pain, the lies have all taken the their toll And I wonder if today will be the day she goes or if shes’ already gone my wife no longer longs. life a dull drudgery like a hiker lost in the woods head down, she slowly moves one foot in front of the other… hour by hour and day by day… knowing the end is inevitable Our romance is like the silver ash of a fire that once burned bright now cold and dry it didn’t break just crumbled under unspoken weight Deeper than passion has been our friendship and that has been trodden on, pressed into the ground Love is not enough, it may keep us together but my sin keeps us apart I know she is here because her shadow accuses me every day but am afraid that her heart has left and withdrawn deep inside of her to a safe place where I can no longer touch it For you see, we are no longer …two in one, …but three. Her…Me…and the Drink. When we started she was my mistress.. we would sneak away and play late into the night. I looked forward to the times we had together. No one understood me… but her I could relax and be myself, laugh, cry and shout But somehow she has become my master and it is no longer want, but must that drives me to her. She even sleeps with us, invading the most intimate place of our lives. She eats my food..leaving me with no appetite. My dreams have faded until they are ghosts, purpose, passion and destiny are words that now mock me. She monopolizes me…taking all my time, I look at them, the kids... need the father I once was, especially the little one , .. tomorrow…soon, I will make it all right And put away the Drink But somehow she has taken my energy “to do”. I haven’t quit wanting..i have just quit doing She has drained my spirit and stolen my soul not in a rush like a hurricane but like a hidden cancer slowly eats away a hole… making me fat, lazy, stupid and grey grey in heart, like a sail with a gaping hole The winds may blow but have no affect on me AH! But I will stop all of this… I will be what I once was, ….NO! even better. I will do it! Yep, tomorrow, or the day after. After all there is no need to waste what I have hidden… I will get rid of it tonight and then I can quit. It will be easier if there is no drink laying around The car door closes and they drive away I can’t believe my good luck! Alone for the day! I open the closet, pulling back the wall I pry out the hidden bottle I smile.. my wife is clever and thinks she knows everything about me and my ways Oh but she could never guess how clever we are! She calls it “sneaky, lying and decieving”… She is soooo serious! Lighten up, babe! its just a game! Right? I win this round! Ha! I pull the lid and move the bottle to my mouth No, not here. This is a special moment that deserves preparation. I go into the living room move the chair toward the tv and put in the tape that I will soon forget Fumbling in the kitchen I get a small glass (no wanton wanting (at least not now) no sloppy rushing the trough but slow and deliberate alcoholic foreplay.. Like a doctor preparing for surgery i make ready for my private party I slowly fill my glass halfway eager anticipation and a sense of fulfillment overwhelm me I laugh out loud and make a toast …one of many that I will make tonight. The first (from The groundhog day movie) is to world peace. There are stages I go through or places I land when I drink The first is a wam feeling of relaxation My Irish heritage crying out “drink and be merry” (it must have been the Germans or some other overly organized race who inserted...for tomorrow we shall die!) I find myself laughing hilariously at the movie, myself, the world in general I know what I need I think to myself! Something to eat! Not too much because I wouldn’t want the food to dull the power of my drink I stumble into the kitchen and prepare a huge meal I am halfway through it when my laughter turns into crying. Like it was only yesterday I cry with bitter grief over my dead father, my sister, and on and on… My heart is flooded with painful memories and in anguish I weep I believed for a long time that this crying was good for me An emotional release that allowed me to vent past pain But I am convinced that alcohol is a magical drug. It can raise the dead and resurrect memories long buried It brings to life every hurt, offense, shame and pain with amazing power Like a trapped and tortured animal the pain turns to anger. As a thunderstorm moves across a purple sky A deep and dark rage begins to rise A sense of outrage that crys NEVER, NEVER AGAIN! Like a chained dog teased by those just out of reach I find myself shaking my fist at ghosts and days gone by But this also fades… at least for the night, like an extinguished fire leaves a blackened forest the rage leaves a dark sooty stain upon my soul I feel exhausted, very tired and sleepy The black and gray screen on the television flickers I can’t remember what movie I was watching or when it ended I roll from bed.., awoke: too strong a word My head is aching and my frame shivers and shakes A sick feeling washes over me and I lay back down It was a great night …I am pretty sure. Guilt washes over me.. Did I leave some sign? Does she know? And I see her watching me from the shadows with a withering look Her arms crossed together, eyes that no longer cry tell the story The hurt the pain the lies have all taken the their toll And I wonder if today will be the day she goes or if shes’ already gone D**n, I need a drink!

138

Depression I awoke with a start. My legs ****** as if I had walked off the edge of my dream. But there was no dream they had spent themselves long ago. I sat up and choked on the black ash of depression… ……dark and bitter, filling my mouth… leaving it parched and dry… I can’t muster the effort to spit, so I swallow the lump in my throat. My heart like a dried and withered gourd can no longer remember what it was like to feel. How many days, (or is it lifetimes) have I been numbed, dumbed and dim? So empty and grey I cannot move. My mind turns slowly …. like a sick, paltry shadow, crawling behind. …. a hollow caricature of days gone by. I know that I was once passionate and energetic, And life more than a word. My eyes flick back and forth mometarily as I try to conjure up the images and recall the times. But like a wisp of smoke they simply tease my memory and drift away before I can grasp them. I hear the voice of my family as they move around in a different world not a black and white like my own. Like a video shot in some colormatic astounding fluorescent film. They are in high speed, high definition, high resolution, their voices like sing song …. …..Grate on my nerves. ….like trying to listen to a 45 record on high speed. I don’t resent their joy because that would require more feeling than I can muster. They look in on me and I hear the worry in their voices. the little one asks “he won’t die will he, mom? ” Poor, little, precious one, … doesn’t know I am already dead. I lay back down and close my eyes Everything is dark…. And I am empty and alone. By Michael Jarrett copyright 2005 George Grogan

0

Jul 16, 2017

Jul 16, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC

georgegrogan

Depression

Depression I awoke with a start. My legs ****** as if I had walked off the edge of my dream. But there was no dream they had spent themselves long ago. I sat up and choked on the black ash of depression… ……dark and bitter, filling my mouth… leaving it parched and dry… I can’t muster the effort to spit, so I swallow the lump in my throat. My heart like a dried and withered gourd can no longer remember what it was like to feel. How many days, (or is it lifetimes) have I been numbed, dumbed and dim? So empty and grey I cannot move. My mind turns slowly …. like a sick, paltry shadow, crawling behind. …. a hollow caricature of days gone by. I know that I was once passionate and energetic, And life more than a word. My eyes flick back and forth mometarily as I try to conjure up the images and recall the times. But like a wisp of smoke they simply tease my memory and drift away before I can grasp them. I hear the voice of my family as they move around in a different world not a black and white like my own. Like a video shot in some colormatic astounding fluorescent film. They are in high speed, high definition, high resolution, their voices like sing song …. …..Grate on my nerves. ….like trying to listen to a 45 record on high speed. I don’t resent their joy because that would require more feeling than I can muster. They look in on me and I hear the worry in their voices. the little one asks “he won’t die will he, mom? ” Poor, little, precious one, … doesn’t know I am already dead. I lay back down and close my eyes Everything is dark…. And I am empty and alone. By Michael Jarrett copyright 2005 George Grogan

54