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vera Mar 2018
Imagine a single breath,
left alone in a hollow chest.

Grey seeping into white
Color bleeding out like a pen,

Violating the marrow of my bones.
The blue-black of my veins,
Lost against my feathery skin.

The union of so many memories,
Real and imagined.

Black blazers shrouding me,
with prayers and tears.

Convinced in the everlasting,
As much as I was for awakenings,
I close my eyes (and dream).
Emily Mar 2018
She's the only woman I know
Who could wear a sheer net shirt,
Bra and ******* exposed,
To a small town funeral
She's the only woman I know
Who flicks cigarette ash
Off of a no smoking sign
Embedded on a wire table at a wake
Name changed to protect the identity of the person this about
Vivian Zems Feb 2018
“stay low, go fast,

**** first, die last,

one shot, one ****,

no luck, all skill”

(Unofficial Navy Seal Slogan)

I stand at the graveside watching
as each person steps forward
to throw dirt on the coffin

I study each face closely
and marvel at all humanity
What is it about funerals
that causes all to attend?

And yet in a life well spent
not a visit, not even a scent
I laid down my life, as you see
laid it so they could be free

It must be a sense of duty
now they come to visit me
Oh- the hypocrisy of humanity!
And now another journey awaits me

I soar to meet passing clouds
caught in the upstream of wind
a final glance, and just by chance
I catch your eyes following me

©Vivian Zems
Emily Feb 2018
The last time I was here
It had been free drinks on the house
It had been a celebration
A taunt
This was how far we’ve come
This is how far we have yet to go

You can’t catch us
For we’re having too much fun
Flirting, talking, chatting
Ideas and hopes
For this year
And the year it had been

It’s different now
Solemn without solace
The haphazard roof
Over haphazard concrete
Where music blasts
And is not played
Where thoughts are delayed

For thoughts bring tears
And tears bring pity
I can’t stand it
The twilight air
Suffocates me
As people stop
And stare

I want to stay
I want to go
I want to live another day
And I want to know
What is beyond the boundary

Let’s have a party
In a building turned funerary
Barbed wire fences
And railroad tracks
Life is seen between cracks
I’ve come so far
And yet I haven’t progressed at all

A waxing crescent moon,
Canescent, anxious light
Illuminates the eerie sky
Free from shadow, free from stars
But not free from sin
This is the realm of illusory serenity
Under celestial blessing
I walk the path I’ve always known

A single road
A lonely road
Gravel cuts the underside
Of my aching feet
As I march under moonlight
So that I may
Taste the sweet and sour
The good and the bad
The grief
And the peace
For my cousin, may she rest in peace.
Jessy Dec 2017
Today, my friends were sitting at our lunch table
My four friends sitting around me
We were talking about death and funerals
My one friend said,
“I’m dying first.
I’m dying before all of you.
So that I don’t have to go to any of your funerals.”

And I thought to myself
Isn’t that funny?
How she stated, as a-matter-of-factly
That she is going to die first

It’s funny because I almost died before her
When I tried to **** myself
Lucky for her, I guess, I failed
melanie Nov 2017
hollow & cold,
I find the vapid touch
of a longtime lover
to be my only friend

death has come knocking
twice today
& I've tried to answer both times

you will be forever missed
Loss is always difficult. Maybe talking about it will help someone.
ln Jul 2017
you say tomorrow will be better
you say the world will start over
you say the sun will shine again
my empty, sacrificed soul is lying on this godforsaken land
breathless
drowning
in a sea of opiods i am a bubbled addict
a bubble that ceases to exist
a bubble that is overlooked
a bubble so blank you'd almost consider it dust
dreams are for the hopeful
but where is hope when every inch of your skin feels like a graveyard
where is hope when blood feels like it is draining out of your body at the speed of sound
where is hope when the lump on your throat blocks your airway and you feel your body shutting down
where is hope when you question everything that you are, am i even a thing
where is hope when the answer never seems to stay
where is hope when this temple feels like it was built only to shatter
where is hope when the ground I walk on turns into a sinkhole and the water I drink turns into a sea monster
where is hope when the sunshine i bathe in turns into a third degree burn, my skin sCREAMING RIP IT ALL OFF
where is hope when my parasitic mind is looking to swallow me whole
where is hope when i sit on this empty highway and wonder if
tomorrow will actually
be worth fighting for
where is hope in this funeral
don't ask me where's the body
i am the body
your forced eulogies and apologies, don't ask me
don't ask me where's the body
i am the body
this is the funeral, i am the funeral
Francie Lynch Jun 2017
The death of a somebody
Is life affirming.
My favorites attend
In the ante-room,
Eyeshot from the shell.
They appeared to be telling
Off-colored jokes,
Childish giggles, anxious glances.
Others talked nervously on their health,
Their swing and trips, car salesmen, and politics.
Violet remarked on the wedding, the bride's redolent dress,
Brocade and settings.
The vows were personal and promising.
Funeral Home is an ironic euphamism;
But the coffee is strong and bitter,
I burned my tongue.
I didn't see much black, mostly pastels.
It's a multi-media presentation of family,
Old and getting precariously older,
Cavorting at the cottage,
Sitting under Christmas trees,
Holding up scarves and mittens.
Everyone smoked then. Everything's hidden.
Someone's grandson touched his hand,
Then recoiled into the nearest waist.
Except for the flowers and box,
There was vibrancy and planning
Where to meet following the graveside,
For a drink and toast to why we're here,
To why any of us are here at all.
Notes
Eric Gordon Jun 2017
A buzzing. A whooshing pressure.

My body is here but where am I?

Deep inside my head

The empty seat in front of me comes back into focus

I dreamt a lacquered coffin

Now I see one

People I should know milling about

Exiled from the family, I keep a respectful distance

This poses a semantic problem for people:

“I’m sorry for… your loss?” Their loss? The loss?

I can’t process this strange mix of emotions

So I stay deep inside my head

And wait for my body to walk away
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