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 Mar 2015 Christopher Lowe
Hilda
Fourteen years ago when I held you in my arms, it seemed surreal. So fragile you were and like a tiny doll. Only God knows how much I miss being able to pick you up and hug you tightly close to my heart whenever I feel depressed.
And yet I love you now all the more. You are so special to me and always shall be. Our family has shared so many joys and so much heartbreak through the swiftly passing years.
You are sunshine and daybreak and iridescent rainbow hues.
The baby has been replaced with a very special friend.


Happy Birthday Sweet Daughter!


Much Love,
From Your Mother
copyright  Hilda   3/20/15
You got me to rest after a week and a half.
I'm not really sure how,
You left my mind at ease
And I walked away from the pain.

It's 2 am and I'm awake again.
The sound of your voice is all I need.
It's 2 am and I'm falling back under.
Just thinking about you pleases me.

0230 rolls by, and then 0300,
I'm still hearing your voice.
I know I can rest easy with you.
Its 0500 now and you've set me free.
Let's stop putting the label Bad
On our delicate little planet.
Yes, she has ugly skin on parts of

Her continents. Some sour rain,
Some rash from her seven billion fleas.
But she deserves more.

Yes, so perhaps she's only one blue
Eye on the face of the solar system.
A shivering cyclops

Afraid to meet the gazes of duality,
Yet standing tall against
The Jupiters and Red Giants

Of the immediate Universe.
But there, in the black eclipse-dot
Of her iris,

A smoker quits
For the sake of his children,
And I see what it costs.

So I recline, eyes closed,  
In the warmth of a cigarette ****
Crushed under a heel

In its lastness; a little, empty
Crucifix -now a cross-
That reminds me that the sacrifice  

That any non-smoker (not an ex-
Smoker) would never understand,
Comes from the same place as

Those things that make us stop and
Wonder at the selflessness that
Makes Earth

Not a victim orb of crap, but a spaceship
Where angels hike on their time off
Just to experience

The factors of Humanity
That make us stop putting **** in
ourselves, and start loving.
There is a person
I've always known
Yet will never get to meet

Everyone
That I know
Has met her

All...
But me

I see her sometimes
Through others' eyes

I may catch a glimpse
Temporarily

We share the same dreams,
Fears and doubts

I know her
Very personally

Yet only through a looking glass
Am I allowed a peek
At the face I know so well

Yet will never get to see

My view is only
Of my reflection

So unfortunately

I'll never see
What others do
When they look at me
playground of feathers
upon heavens blue blanket
winds whisper to them
Try to imagine being dead,
With nothing running
Through your head,
But worms and water
And other things.
Your eyes are closed,
Your ears are stopped,
All your orifices corked up
So you don't smell
Or make a fuss
As the living outline
Your casket.
You lie in state,
But there's no wait,
The line-up starts with you.
Change how you see and what you see will change.
A word to the wise from the wiser.
It seems that I am indeed
Just another lost soul
Perhaps Floyd was right
Maybe the world is a fishbowl

But you see, the trouble
In all of this nonsense
Is that I still hope to see
You hop over my fence

Please tear down my wall
Oh, won't you come in?
I've been feeling comfortable
Yet numb, dismissing my sin

So what are we?
Essentially good, or not?
Do you find favor in Socrates?
Is Nietzche's idea the one you bought?

Let's question, let us wonder
Should my thoughts go assunder
Don't tip or toe, or go tumbling under
Nevermind the noise, it's just thunder

Get caught up in the spark
The rigid structure of light
Because you are alive
So live this gift of your life
How she sat there
with movement in her head.
A churning of learning
the ways to get ******
and slaughtered by
other people's
sons and daughters.

And how I sutured a gust
of her brain exhaust
into my chest, into my lungs--
I breathed her like I was
******* the end of a
tailpipe.

Her hands ran like busted tires
as she massaged my temples,
revving her voice,
my ears on her
suicide door lips.

There is no green light
in her red light country.
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