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I want to be remembered
not for my love
or for my nature
not for my criticism
or for my grievances

I want to be remembered
when I am but a memory
not as a headstone  
or ashes settled in an urn
not as a relic in the mind
of someone who loved me
or loves me still

I want to be remembered
for my poetry
even though it is not the best
nothing else seems noteworthy
unless I am to be remembered
as a friend, son and brother
everything else lacks significance
Oh, won't you just pick me up?
I have fallen only just out of reach
you can help me at a stretch
not much further you're nearly there
****,
a gust of sadness has rolled me over

Oh, won't you just pick me up?
I have slumped over my table
intoxicated unable to find the strength
too busy laughing at my stupidity
but you can still help me at a stretch

Oh, would I just shut up?
we've all just about heard enough
of my sorry, lazy and weak poetry
funny that,
I bet it could help me at a stretch
Jealousy,
I beseech you!
Tamper with my heart no more.
The temperament of love is sinuous
and the strings of my heart frayed.
Forgive me mother, for I have binged
My head has all but come unhinged
And since my head's too f*ed for quarrels,
My heart and liver wage war on morals
Old friend,

a part of me still loves you
and cherishes the memories
that we made in youth
and then turned to cinder
I don't know how
two people so well connected
can grow so far apart
I still hear your laugh
I still feel your hugs
the fist bumps and play fights
years of friendship fading
like the smoke filled rooms
we spent so much time in
my memory is getting hazy
I hope your little boy is well
perhaps you'll tell him stories
when he's grown
of an old friend called Finley
I want you to know
I will surely cry when you die
though I doubt
that I'll be at your funeral

Mucho amor

*Finley
I was
once potent, now soft
then twisted suddenly
like a baby thrown aloft
"Pull!"
and then shot
bad habits, tendencies
thinking about money
when I haven't got a lot
I used to think I was
pretty good looking
but
my self esteem took a knock
life is about finding your rock

I am
scarred, dangerous
and outright harmless
when I'm stressed out
my love turns me to calmness
overrated like chrome
a blade lacking in sharpness
turning away from peace
and reverting to the darkness
never liked change
always afraid of taking chances
thought I needed help
but I guess that I'm past it
looking for a home because
I was told it's where the heart is
My father told me
"poetry is timeless,
a poem written today
will have as much meaning
as it it does right now
in a hundred years time"
I think he's right
I will look back on my poems
in years to come
and feel everything I did
all over again
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