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Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
He had just passed a marker on 285,
miles away from that old city life.
Wondering how he could feel so alive,
He shifted the gears and he said "I'll just drive."
Something about how the Moon hit the fields,
Something about how the Country was still,
Something that night grabbed a hold of his eyes,
And the Road got so Jealous She threw him aside.
He lost all control and he swerved to the right,
Hit the embankment and rolled a few times.
He came to and he was in back of his car,
Painless and staring straight up at the Stars.
He tried to get up but much to his dismay,
He could not get up and right there had to stay.
And so he just laid there gazing at the Stars,
Listening closely for just one passing car.
He cried cause he knew why his tries were in vain,
Why he couldn't get up, why he didn't feel pain.
And then he was relieved that no cars had passed by,
He didn't want to live like that, he'd rather die.
As he accepted it and let Death creep on in,
Head lights hit the field, a horn drowned out the wind.
A big semi rig saw him right in the road,
and tried honking his horn to get him to go.
He realized what happened and called for some help,
And then got out to see what damage the Road dealt.
He saw the man laying there on the back seat,
And asked him if he could get on to his feet.
With a moan that had surely come from some dark place,
The man just looked up and right into his face,
He said "Just leave me here and they'll cast me astray,
I just made a deal with them all, anyway.
I told them I'd go peacefully with no fight,
If I had a place with them up in the Sky.
So, please, wont you just drive on into the night.
Please, Sir, I beg you, wont you just let me die?"
"You know I cant do that" The truck driver said,
"you cant take your place in the Sky til you're dead.
There's help on the way and I'm here til They come,
So you just hold on and They'll fix you up, Son."
He drifted away and fell into a Dream,
And, for just a moment, forgot everything.
He lost himself deeper and deeper inside,
and then woke to the sting of some bright, blinding light.
He mistook it for a sign that he was now dead,
But it was only the light above a hospital bed.
He screamed and he cried and then off to his side,
The Truck Driver stood up and he tried to confide.
He said "Hey, Son! It's okay, everything's alright,
You're still here with us in this Life and you'll be fine.
Don't let this take your light away, you're still alive!
Nothing can bring you down if you fight to survive."
"Oh yeah, what's left for me to fight for after this?
What, on Earth, can lead me now to some kind of Bliss?
My Life is now a Prison and a chair shall be my cell,
Not a ****** THING is fine, in case you couldn't tell.
What am I to do with Life? Who could Love me now?
I swear I'll take my place with them some way, some how."
"Is naught left in this life to bring you peace of mind?
No kids or family in whom some joy you'll maybe find?
It cant be so easy to so quickly succumb,
Why do you wish for the end so early in your run?"
"I can not be free when I depend on a chair,
I'm meant to roam around freely without a care.
I cant lay in the Grass or throw Leaves in the air.
Now I cant do anything but watch Life from a chair."
"I see..." was all that the truck driver could say,
He knew nothing he said would matter, any way.
He heard this mans cries and, though he was so numb,
He knew by the pain in that voice why he'd come.
He walked to the bedside and took the mans hand,
And said "Son, for reasons that I don't understand,
I feel that I was meant to be there at that Time,
Like I was meant to be some kind of Neon Sign.
But what I feel and what I see right now are fighting me.
Half of me wants you to live, half wants me to set you free.
If I'm gonna help you I want you to tell me why,
You wont even try you're just choosing to die."
He said "I chose nothing, it fell upon my feet,
And now, thanks to me, I'll never be complete.
So I wish to Dream of a World unlike this,
Where I cant walk or run, or feel a simple Kiss.
I wish to find a place among the brightest Stars,
That is why I asked you to just leave me in my car."
The truck driver didn't say another word to the man,
Just put his hand over his mouth and nose,
Sent him to his Promised Land.
And when He left the hospital he thought He'd take a drive,
And, for the first time in his life, He felt Alive.
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
The memory seems more like a never ending dream. Actually, it is a nightmare replaying constantly in my head.  I close my eyes and that’s all I can see.  Even after all these years. It’s like someone got a red-hot brander and seared the inside of my brain with it. I tried to drown the memories out, but they always have a way of crawling back up to the surface. Its something I have to deal with for the rest of my life.
      I can’t help but look into the cold, blank eyes. The last time I saw them, they were a bright, beautiful, blue and gleaming with potential. But that dramatically changed. Now all that’s left is a hollow, dead stare from a stranger I use to know. I feel goose bumps rise all over my body. My hand rests on her cold, stiff shoulder. How long has she been here? Her porcelain skin was already beginning to have a bluish tint creep across it. I know it’s too late, but I try to shake her and call her name hoping for a miracle. The pools of scarlet collecting around her head quiet that hope and desperation. It’s a silent reminder that’s there’s no way to fix this, that the deed is done. It something I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life.
      Tears stream down my cheeks; I can’t seem to make myself move from that spot to get help. It felt like I was frozen in time looking at the empty shell of a fallen friend. She picked the time that she was left all alone to succumb to her poisonous thoughts. Her mother was away on business, her brother was at his shift for work and she and I weren’t speaking at the time.  She probably truly felt alone. Still, I should have known this was going to happen.  We got into a huge fight a few days before all of this happened. She was upset with me because I brought up how her self-destructive behavior will impact her greatly in the future and how she should talk to a professional for help in order to fix her deep seeded emotional trauma. Unfortunately, she took this as a sign of me abandoning her in her time of need.  That was on a Thursday. She didn’t speak to me for two days, I received word from other people that she was abusing substances and self-harming yet again. That’s when I was fed up with this petty argument and went to go clear things up with her and try to help. I’ll never forget the day I walked to her house that Sunday afternoon.  When I got there, the door was unlocked so I knew she was home. I called for her, but didn’t get an answer. A pang of worry creped in the pit of my stomach. I raced up the stairs to her room and saw her motionless body at her desk…
      I hear the front door open and someone coming up the stairs. It was her older brother. I call to him in broken sobs. He rushes in and freezes as I did, taking in the sight. He calls 911 and runs to her side, crying. It seems like endless hours of waiting for help to arrive. As we wait he pulls her in his arms and cries uncontrollably asking how and why she did this. I look up at the desk and fine two letters; one has my name on it. I pick it up and slide it into my coat pocket. When the police arrived with the ambulance, they took the other letter for evidence. After she was removed from the room, the officer asked her brother and I questions then left us alone in her room.
      I stayed with him that night. He called their mom and she was on the first flight back. The entire night he and I just sat on the couch silent. We both felt numb. My best friend, his sister is dead.  After his mom got back home, she set up a funeral for her daughter. She avoided the news and paper by having a small gathering for family only. I was never given the chance to say goodbye to my friend. Instead I just sat in my room with her letter gripped tightly in my hands.
      Fast forward a few years and I’m in my bed writing this very story. I still keep the letter, but it still remains sealed. Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to open it and read her last thoughts for me but for now, it stays hidden safe in my drawer. I still stay in touch with her brother, and we both continue to heal over time. The memories will always stay with us though. It’s something we’ll just have to deal with. Now I know that she did what she had to do in order to finally have peace. She felt there was no other way. I just wished she held out for  a little bit longer to see that life may be hard but it does get better and its worth fighting for. If I learned anything from that experience, it’s that. She taught me the value of life. She taught me to always be strong and not to cave into the pressures and struggles life brings. Because of her, I am the person I am today, and she will always remain in my heart.
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
lay on the  
rise up and rekindle all the memorys that  
listen to the  
for all those who  

the red cresent moon rising  
the limp, dead body's cast a warning  
one shattered soul takes in the
her blood stained hands still  

the only thing more dead is the hole  
to be her you must know what it is when a soul's dead

to out live all the blood  
to                    home
a black cloak and veil cover the  
she's a being that  
always wearing an unseen mask

what tragedy had been  

no one could ever have guessed how long her  
a past the world never gave her a chance

as if the world feels her  

bearing the cruel curse she  
in a way she is  
like a poisin dart embedded in the  
slowly eating away till the

can't count all the blood lined roads  

the deaths fall down onto an unmarked score

to her life is  
her chance was taken away
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Even a World So Ugly As This        
                  Is Full of Beautiful Things.  
It was one of those evenings  
when men feel that truth, goodness and beauty  
are one.  
Waste no day with too-much sleep,  
The wilderness beckons.  
Let us rustle the trees.  
Remember to laugh, Remember to sing.  
Fill again my head with constellations.  
Fill again my head with consolations of sound.  
For i am inseparable from you, and you from me as well.  
Remember to dance, Remember to dream.  
Remember to listen, Remember to see.  
For even a world as ugly as this  
      Is full of beautiful things.  
All other questions of the mortal coil  
More or less become clear  
In the unwinding.  
Hushed and heedless,  
The sunflower, chico, and the fountain  
Twi-lit with honey.  
Forests grand with oaks, and the lunar zig-zag which paints the mountain.  
The slow dripping noise beside you,  
The cool *** of night become icicle morning.  
A thousand thousand impish clamors call out!  
The elfin quietude.  The flighty bird. The brotherhood.    
The mirror changes with moods.  
The brother, the sister.  The merry-go-round of laughing children.  
The daughter with a bouquet of curls beaming gold, red, brown sincerity.  
The freckled enchantment of lovers perennially in Idumaean night.  
The artistry of female radiance on which all things are born and balanced.  
Beauty such as to drive a mind to madness.  O  
And the splendid metaphysics of the male,      
The shimmering brandy of honed muscle and action.  
I am recalling, the ebony of her form,  
Perfect in inexhaustible allurement!  
I am recalling, the pale fragility of another,    
Perfect in exquisite pulchritude!  
The friendly mutt whose voice exalts sonnets of pure love.    
The great haunches of colts at full run.  
Tendrils of primordial music bloom on the wind!  
Under the water the world drowns and continues on.  
Yet the measure of mocking men produces only sand  
Fit to fill a broken hourglass.  
Let not gladness be empty banter amongst us  
Ye city of perplexed imaginings!  
City of labyrinths, curves, catwalks, and spires.  
An elegant evening strolling with you produces charming memories.  
In abandoned churches the ***** blessed us heathens with greater timbre and romances  
Than a thousand caterwauling religions.  
With Juliet's rose between my teeth  
My jaunty daydream burst out laughing !  
In the snug lamplight of home again  
Vines and evergreen ropes of oleander twined up to the roof and quite through!  
& Together we climbed it to find the proof.  
Refine your strength, refine your shame.  
By all means, breath deep, lustily!  
Even the body which drags weary feet.  
Even the nervewrack'd hours dark and steep .  
Midnight strikes quickly and time melts away, completely.  
Apprehend again the heart  
Before it washes away in the storm.  
This and all things that we cannot untie  
Should not bind us to an early grave.  
Here i grow too old for fearing frivolous shadows.  
The eyes fill with sleep - and then reopen.  
The eyes fill with sleep - and then they do not.  
The conversation carries on .  
At times perhaps we hear the ocean  
      grinding grinding  
Those orphaned spirits of old Edens,  
What soon again we are to become.  
But what is a home unwanted?  
                       it is nothing!  
And what is a life unlived in?  
                  it is nothing!  
The surgeon with steady and learned hands.  
The mechanic with hard and learned hands.  
The soldier. The mother.  The strength of one in solitude.  
The strength of those whom lean upon each-other.  
Bubbling bedfellows of rivers rambling  
in a forest of Birch and wildflower.  
The Odyssey in the park with you, under a pagan serenade of moons.  
The red blood of pomegranates passed between.  
The throb and churn of engines is lovely in its way.  
The darkness is lovely in its way.  
The present, the past, the future - all the sunsets,  
Sonorous in their way.  
Weep and weep into the dusk.  
But what do you imagine bitterness shall win you?  
The natural harmony and dis-harmony.  
Towers of strained hardening.  
The mud and the water.  The fire which governs.  
Grapes upon the vine, and diamonds in the mine.  
I provoke myself onward.  
And say let us speak hastily, neighbor,  
For what time is there to waste  
On expectant verses, and platitudes to over-made faces?  
I for one do not care much for dawdling beneath false skies.  
The realist parts of me know too well of life's harsh cruelties, and yet,  
                  realize also that reality is the theater of artifice.  
                  - and you are ever free to see it as you wish.  
The mirror changes with moods.  
I for one prefer the perfume of the moment.  
Nothing simplified, and perhaps, yes everything!  
The human smells and earthy musks.  The animal abruptness.  
The persisting imagination, the infinite onward.  
I for one prefer to hear the music outpouring  
loud and rockus,  
            Rather than the bells that morn us.
And so...
...From the Benevolent Ashes, We Rise!
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
What's that inner drive?
What makes me run?
  What is that one thing that makes me want to keep going?


  That is the one thing that makes me want to keep going.
That is what makes me run.
That is that inner drive.

That one thing has kept me alive.
That one thing has changed my life.
That one thing is the pure embodiment of passion.
That one thing is life, mind, body and soul.

That one thing is everything.
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
All these strange feelings
Tearing  me  apart
Pulling   me   farther   from   myself
Don't    know    how    to    fix    it
Take     me     to     the     place     where     I     belong
P l e a s e.
P   l   e   a   s   e
S     a     v     e           m     *e
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Am I a lie?
Am I just another pawn in Gods game?
Is this just a sick joke?


...this is not a game
...this is not a joke
...I am not a lie

I am strong
I am honest

So behold, reality and beware.
for I am back
...I am powerful
and I am here to conquer
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