Stick me in the ground
Cover my body with dirt
My soul won't be saved

How many times
Can one heart break?

How many years
Will pass to make
The pain go away?

Where there is love
There is loss
Even if the love
Is not the cause

My heart breaks

It breaks

For you

My very soul

Aches

For you

But somewhere, I know
I will never see you again
So why am I still
Waiting for you to come in?

Death is hard
For all who are near
It's like a blast
That sends ripples through the earth
Striking shock into the hearts
Of all that it hurt

So we lie upon the ash
With tears in our eyes
As our hearts yearn
To see you one more time

We will never stand
We will never rise from the ashes
We will resurrect
And carry the lashes
Like an open wound
Will some day fade
A hidden scar
Will fall in its place

Death strikes a wound
So deep
It touches both the heart an soul

It can never truly heal
But we eventually learn to cope

Good bye for now
But just know
I'll see you smile again
Some day
I'll see you once again
My friend

they'll ignore your pain while you're alive.
but come to your grave with bouquets of flowers when you're dead.

In death we praise and feel sorrowful for the dearly departed.
tears flow freely and you can't stop once you've started

If only we had been nicer or done a little more.
if only i saw you that day before.

if only i knew what the cards were saying
perhaps i could have saved you and stopped all this praying

maybe this was destiny come to pass
all i know is that wave we shared was our last.

i will never forget you
you were a good mate

i just wish i had told you
but then i realised, this is a poem too late.

When I was a child, I was told the story of my Grandfathers mother she was a refugee from mother Russia.
He told me that we were no longer considered white that is a luxury.
And we have become subhuman in most places.
We were either locked behind iron walls to be kept in or out.

He told me how they sacked and burned our villages.
Then they proceeded to chase us on horseback, with swords pointed too the distant future.

She was led to the nearest boat, headed towards The Land Of Opportunity.

At the island she was locked away for Tuberculose and possibly Lice
When leaving she refused to put an X for her name for obvious reasons.
So she signed ****.

Years later I found out, she had opened a pawn shop down south.
In what now is the forth most segregated area in the states.
She sat outside with a shotgun in a rocking chair and windows barred.
when there King died.

Sadly, the last thing remembered by my Papa's mother including my family is a fist fight.
In Santa Barbra.
I saw the look of panic and pain on her despondent face.
At this point that look was a common occurrence in my day to day life.
Hence, the reason I wasn't allowed at the funeral.
I was locked away at another rehabilitation center.
For crimes I had of course never committed

Since then I have not laid any tulips or morning prayers.

I hope you ******* die soon
I won't even show up to the funeral
To spit on your grave
It's not near a shame
Because of your name

Sometimes, I would drive by your house
And my hopes would rise
Because I wanted to see you so bad
But then I realized...
You're dead
You're not home, in fact, you're very far
I will never get to be exactly where you are

I laughed in the bitterness of reality
Through tears, I realized just how cruel it can be
Every fiber in my being yearns for you
Wants to hear your voice
And seek your advice

If that's not enough to **** me inside, this one fact has killed me twice
You will never see my wedding or my kids
I wanted you to be apart of everything
After all you did...

I want to see your smile again
I want to feel your embrace
Although you're gone, somehow
I can feel you Deep within
Comforting me when I cry

Guiding me through my life

The Brick Church Road leads to Friedens
where yesterday as today
wooden carts and steel wagons,
ferry their most solemn cargo.

After the preacher’s comfort tonings
of walks through the shadowy valley
and eyes lifted to the hills,
After fresh sod flourishes
over the sealed earth,
the carved stones whisper,

“Remember our bearings and sirings,
the banners we carried,
our triumphs and stumblings.
Sound the words and tunes of our jubilant songs!
Never forget that we are you.”

*April,  2007