My father died
from a gun shot wound
to the head

self-inflicted

Don't get all weird about it.

Fathers die
and their passing
though certain
is rarely easy.

So what can I say of this man
so many years
after his emphatic end?

I can say what Whitman said
of Lincoln:
"O Captain, my Captain.
Rise up and hear the bells."

But he will not.

He was ever-present
wise and alert
a boxer in life
a fighter in every way.

And I grew up with the gloves on
quick
elusive
and thanks to him
successful in every ring.  

He died
******* on a lit tobacco stick

Emphysema was gonna
take him down
so he pulled his own trigger
saved his family that way
though that's a longer tale

Therefore
and whereas
this is a belated requiem
for a man I loved.
My Captain.
Dear and departed
these many years
may he rest in peace
as he never rested
in life.

Try
swimming against the tide today
And if you drown
It's better than drifting forever

She only writes in black ink;
her thoughts are much too dark
for the blue.

Setting up a studio
vaulted ceilings with
scented linguistics
Glued to a group
Glass Stains on grained wood
tell me to ground my soul,
let go and propel waves
in the mountains
Glue the wind to trees
by any means necessary.

Anything is cool if it
interrupts the mind
of so called intellects
reacting with concrete questions
It's just as easy to
tug heart strings
with well crafted narrative
as it is to spread hate
with carefully constructed conspiracy
Word is bond
only broken by
water over blown bridges.

Keep strings tied to wounded rocks
Don't skip
Rippled vision
round squares and indecision
A sight to see
Don't quit
when there's always now
Find how
and walk the plank.

I cut myself again tonight
And my skin parted like the Red Sea
I am Moses.
I cut open my inside thigh
Hiding my disease, so no one could see,
Looks can be deceiving.

I covered my wounds with plasters;
Envying the way plasters hid pain,
Much Better than I did.
I took care of my wounds
Incase of infection, so I would never have to explain
Why my thighs cracked like volcanoes.

I drew thick safety lines
Thick enough to block out feelings
This is apathy.
I became reborn every morning
After baptising in my holy tears
God will receive me.

I had no faith to walk over the waters
Terrified that the waters would drown me
I am Peter.
I keep self sacrificing, hanging myself on the cross
For my sins that I can't stop committing
I am Jesus,
Or is this blasphemy?