We're brothers
we met and bonded
in the holes dug
by our own shovels.

Creating parallel lines to our enemies
but as we sat across
two sides divided--
I could not help
but chuckle at the thought
of us being parallel.

Meaning we had
to have at least one thing in common;
explicit we  built tunnels
exactly the same way,

but inside
I knew these were people
heading in the same direction
that we were never able to meet.

they were no better than I
they are my true brothers
and having to ****
my brothers
was a tragedy.

Growing up country...A day in the life ©
I lay on my bed awake staring at the ceiling
No need for an alarm cause I have two
One is brooster the rooster and the is
A holler I call “father”

And then there it is the shout from below
“Get up you slugs we have things to do and places to go”
I leap out of bed toss on some clothes no need to be picky
For we ain’t likely to see nobody this way today

The race down the stairs is on, only three brothers to beat
Getting to the kitchen table to get a seat and grub to eat
The smell of bacon permeates the air
And mom is at the bottom stair to give a hug right there

As we chow down we all look around at each other
Knowing full well the list and which one we druthers
There’s tillin the garden with a ***, muckin the pens with its stench,
Fence mendin with barb wire or ridein that metal steed named Deere

And on this day through luck of the draw or Dad’s decision
I create furrow after furrow with precision and after awhile
And many circles complete the mind tends to wander into a haze
As you slide from side to side on that hard seat amidst a glaze

What will this fall harvest bring after the chores are complete
A trip to the fair and rodeo to compete and there I will be the winner
In that girl’s blue eyes as I lift up that grand prize
She’ll notice me then, that pretty little thing and proudly wear my ring

The old John Deere will transform from a metal steed to a pickup I will need
For those kids who will be taught to heed, respect their elders and lay seed
We’ll live on a farm just like this one built on strong backs from generation
To generation hoping to build a better nation

Andreas Simic©

i wonder how many sons
and how many daughters
passed on
before the phrase,
“Only the good die young”
became cliché.

how many had to grieve
before the phrase
lost its sting?
surely, i still feel
the potent scream
of its veracity.

“only the good die young.”
like all axioms,
we could unpackage and dissect,
trim away the fat
and try to understand,
but at the end of the day
it seems to me that we’d only be
helplessly clutching at straws
in vain attempts to try and make sense
of a reality that our human brains—
try as they might—could never fathom.

i cannot say
if the aphorism is true,
if only the good die young,
but i know that Jakin Murray Foster,
beyond a shadow of a doubt,
was one of the good ones.

to try and select
a single story
as exemplary
of Jakin’s life
would be akin
to plucking a star
from a constellation.

surely, that story
would shine like a sun
unto itself.
people would rotate
about that story,
anchored like planets
by the gravitational force
of Jakin’s compassion.
but to do so,
to focus on solely one story,
would be a great disservice
to the cosmos of Jakin’s existence,
all the lives he’s touched
and changed over the years.

instead, i will try to tell you
about the man, my best friend,
my brother: Jakin Murray Foster.
i will try to capture a portrait,
one that will, admittedly,
be woefully incomplete.
i will leave you to fill in the blanks,
the empty spaces
between the disparate stars
of his constellation.
the gaps in my description
can be filled by the memories
of his cheer, his integrity,
his profound humanity,
solid as steel beams
buttressing and bracing
in these moments of grief.

so, let’s reminisce:

Jakin was stubborn as an ox.
this quality stands out to me
in perfect clarity
because he was one of the only people
who had the strength of personality
required to challenge me
to become a better human being.

to check me when i grew cruel or aggressive or inconsiderate.
to encourage me when i became callous and cynical and unkind.
to love me when my heart was hateful
and wanted nothing more than to spread my own misery like a poison
before putting a permanent end to everything.

Jakin was silly.
take a gander at any number of the photos collected in his memory.
they paint a clearer picture than i ever could
of a man who laughed loud and laughed often,
but never at the expense of others.
who could lift your spirits
like a steaming cup of coffee
in even the most frigid winters.

Jakin was a geek,
a home-school kid,
a Jesus freak.
his personality was refined
by the teachings of a radical rabbi
executed by the state
for standing in love and solidarity
with the weak,
a man who’d change the course of history.

in brief, Jakin gave a ****.
until the end, he stood up for what he believed in,
convinced by the clarity of his conscience
and the fire that burned like a burgeoning nebulae in his heart.
i can think of no better way to honor his memory
than to hate what is evil
and love what is good,
to fight for a world that is in such desperate need
of the grace, charity, and fraternity
Jakin exhibited every day.

Memento mori.
be mindful of death.
i think of the end of all things daily.
for many, the end of a life is the beginning of something new.
to me, death makes life invaluable.
death is choiceless.
death is a cruelty, an injustice no one should ever suffer.
like a mirror, death shows us our own fragility,
it gives truth to the reality that our time here is fleeting.
death makes life more precious than any commodity ever wrought by humanity.
death reminds us that we are owed nothing,
that all we can do is seize every moment of love and joy afforded us
and build a new world in the shell of the old.

i do not know if only the good die young.
i know that my best friend, my brother, is gone.
i know with certainty that I will never see him again.
we will never laugh together,
bicker over philosophy,
or drive around listening to music ever again.
that reality fills me with so much misery
i can hardly stand or breathe or even think.
but i will do all i can to be a good man
so that when i too meet Death like an old friend,
i can say, “i lived like Jakin.”

Jake sits on the rocks,
perched above the watering hole,
silently observing Dad and I
hopping from stone to stone.

He doesn't want to get wet,
doesn't mind being alone,
I'm unconcerned, aware
of Jake's distaste for unnecessary dampness,
though Dad complains
that Jake never joins in the fun,
wanting close proximity to his son.

Tell me, little brother of mine
How can I repay you?
All the things I stole
I can’t give it back at all


How can I make you forgive?
All the sins I made
Didn’t just cause you grief
But also wasted your breath


How could I make amend?
When everything's will never fall into place
What costed was your dear life
No matter what I couldn't return back


Tell me, what should I do?
Mother’s death cursed us two
And in vain I also drag you
I'm sorry your brother is a fool


Oh dearest mother so sweet
When you're gone we'd been incomplete
Back to the years we are one
Now we're divided and nothing can be done


Don't cry my big brother
Neither you nor I were innocent
Shed in blood our past is
Both of us are to be blamed


Clinging to that desire
Both of us took that crooked path
And fell to the hell we made
Since that day we are dead


That sin of yours is a sin of mine
We can't erase the things we did
But the future, we can still change
Isn't it right brother?


Oh dearest mother so sweet
When you're gone we'd been incomplete
Back to the years we are one
Now we're divided and nothing can be done


To where will we go?
When there's no place we belong to
Walking to the thorny path
Our shoulders feels so heavy


Blinded by that old dream
What was lost is forever gone
Can we ever go back to those times?
Mother we're sorry


We may not be whole
But two is always better than one
So let's start to forget and forgive
Even the past couldn't be fixed
All we had to do is to live

wrapped up on green fields
and blue skies, cotton couldn't
keep us warm through the
wintertime, laughter kept us
active, barefoot on hard tracks,
our lives were consumed by
three-minute-rhymes,
our hearts all melted for
the same person, her name
was carolyn, on the brink of
adulthood, we laugh until we
are drowning in tears just
thinking about those times,
blonde days, puppy love,
wintertime sunshine,
the closest of friends,
the lack of similar
bloodstreams and
the difference in
our skin tones
will not change the
      brotherhood
   that will last
for the rest
of our
lives


- t.m

Fatherless men, of fortitude
gaining the respect of others.
Brothers of arms, where one
falls, all would fall for another.

Never do they go singularly forth,
a unit of the numerous.
A back is never left alone, one covers
another, two are exclusive as another.

Closer than family are those who
would take one for the other.
Never knowing if the one decision will
bury them with a flag, as others salute them.

Wishing to be a grad
Now though a lad,
Can be sweet as Chad.
Many get to write a pad
Exams and become sad;
Results make them monad
Make loose courage had –
Isn’t this too bad?
So be a brave lad.
There will some tad;
World differ like dad,
You always try to add
Vigour to your try; be mad.