Elegys are the lies
we tell dead people,
When we know
they won't hear us
From up above,
Or from down below,
Or just in the ground,
in the dirt.
Wherever you want to believe,
Just believe they can't hear you.
When you say that
He or she was this or that
Now and then
When you were nine or ten,
When they came back from
The shop with a sugar laced treat
That was never quite as sweet
As them.

Lies,
all of it.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Just knowing that
you would be there
at the station to see me off,
a quick sweet kiss,
and then that look,
as I would shout out
a goodbye,
just knowing that,
made it not an impossibly to leave.

You still make my heart beat twofold,
and the boiling blood rush in my vains.

Do I make that heart pump a little faster?
That pulse,that throb, throb, throb.
If you were at the station,

Then I must.

-Jamie F. Nugent

The cold of early morning,
The cold that hits my sleepy dusty eyes,
And gets inside my drowsy head,
So much so that,
My thoughts become transfixed, frozen;
There is nothing but that chill,
That chill that whispers, winter is melting away,
That chill that sings, summer won't be long now,
That chill that screams, the chill won't stay.

-Jamie F. Nugent

The Christmas tree was dragged down,
Slayed like a beast, she was
Skinned of her decoration hide,
She looked a lot less pretty naked,
But God, she looked wild and free,
She was not ready to wither away,
She was not going to lay down and die,
Not just yet,
Not just now.

-Jamie F. Nugent

I stood there,
5'11 in secondhand shoes,
by the gate, house of god,
in the sun-drenched midday;
She drove up and parked,
as the bells rang out,
in her stainless sliver car,
newer then her leopard print hat
covering her white hair,
she approached me like a shadow,
twisted and hunting,
I stood there
by my red bucket full of change;
I did not wish her a 'good' morning,
instead just morn',
she walked up without saying a word,
but then,
when she was as close as she could get,
she said in the falsest of tone and substance,
'Good morning' and walked on,
the bucket, no fuller then before,
she walked in,
I doubt she could even spell cerebral palsy.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Only tongues could tell,
Just what happened in this room,
From behind the sun.

-Jamie F. Nugent.

You could speak sentences
Through your cracked lips,
That would make my heart
Miss a beat,or skip a beat,
I can not even tell.

--Jamie F. Nugent