Hanging by the post box red front door
Since 71
A long trench coat, shade of green
With flat cap on top, peak smudged
From fingers that had gripped
Pulled it from a head,
Both, an umbra of post war world gloom
To the boy, now the man who looks at it
Memories contained within its pockets and creases
Of boiled sweets handed to his bairns
Of neatly folded plastic bags,
For the necessary emergencies
He was so convinced he’d meet
Of hands that belonged to the coat,
Strong, firm that tousled this man’s hair,
Yet gentle and playful, full of fun
Of the head that wore the cap, the grin,
The mischievous glint, when his Peg wasn’t looking
As he slipped some coins into this boy’s tiny hand
Stories told, of times before the war,
Of stopping trams, driving pigs through N’castle
As a butcher’s Boy, on slaughter day
Of the day he met his Meg, down by the coast
Of showing off, and coming a cropper
And oh, how his Meg laughed
A coat holding so much of the past,
Of shipbuilding by the dark, ***** Tyne,
Boats that loomed over the houses
Taking this boy to see them launch
Dreaming of exotic, oriental places
He would never visit
Of betting slips, crumpled in pockets
From long gone nags, who caught his eye
Torn envelopes with Megs writing,
Bread - brown, tin of carnation milk (small)
Rich tea, sultanas, flour – plain
A use for his plastic bags,

Christmas comes again this year,
Except we do not have you here,
Sitting at our table ,
Filling us with cheer ,
Singing Christmas songs with us and raising up your beer ,
To happiness & health within the new year.
Today we will remember ,
The joy you used to bring
And each moment of the day your presence with us will ring ,
You're still our father, grandad& friend  & today to you our Christmas love we will send.
Your love and memories are still here and we will miss you it's very clear

my grandfather Edward
left home when he was a boy
and changed his last name
in his teens he was arrested for stealing a cow

then he joined the Air Force and became a photographer
smoked ***** with fishermen
photographed bombs being dropped

then he married my grandmother Evelyn
and they had 3 girls
one of them died as an infant
and one was my mom

i remember him as a quiet man
i was very little
he smoked a pipe and carried a pocket knife
he twiddled his thumbs which had no thumbnails

and in 1994 when i was 7
he shot my grandmother in her sleep
then himself

and i will never forget him.

I think about the odds against me
And i know why i hate math so much
I dream of God's touch
Assuring me i'm the man my grandfather wanted me to be
He's no longer here for me to know
And now this bridge isn't as golden
And my pockets aren't holding
All this change
I wish i could properly rearrange
Without going through an uphill battle
But some people are as carefree as cattle
And hold life in a very small window
But i hate being a spider with two legs
So i decided to hold my podium higher while i speak my words
I think to not get anything accomplished is absurd
But i'm looking for a better word
Cause that's not good enough
For me
I want to be the best man i can to be the world
But i have a few losses on the road
I wonder if i'm still making playoffs
I guess i'm just crossing my fingers
As time lingers
I'm holding onto something that might or might not happen
I'm tired of cornering myself into living this life
So i'm going to solve this puzzle
While you bring more for me to solve
I got more problems fixed but many more coming up
Don't worry, i'm used to this
I'm now a professional
That's the only response you should have
To this roller coaster with no wheels or rails
You see all the details it entails?
It's loud out here but the self esteem is soft
And that's a terrible crime
I'm finding ways to rhyme
And all this garbage is happening in the world
I want to be be able to stare into a kid who has nothing in the eye and give them the world
It isn't about me
I'd brag about my fat stacks going to other people not for myself
These fat stacks have meaning now
Isn't that odd?
I like giving things meaning
It's what keeps me going
Have you ever seen a person bloom so much that you can smell the nectar nearby?

Today you left memories in our minds and love in our hearts,
in fact, looking around the room that's only the start.
You left behind grandkids, sons, close friends, and a wife,
who is probably the reason you made it this long in life.

Today you left behind houses that families call home,
and plenty of pictures reminding us how you never needed a comb.
You left tearful prayers on Christmas Day, hearty chuckles and grins,
You, the trunk of the tree where all these branches begin

Today you left and that's ok, we know you had to go,
to fulfill God's plan that we can only wish to know.
I may know the burglar, but it still feels like theft.
I guess you were a guest in this world, and today you left.

Thank you for teaching these hands of mine to try,
and fix, and care, and build, and now wave goodbye.
Of all the lessons you taught me, this one hurts to know  
Sometimes your favorite people at a party still have to go.

I sit to the left of a lonely man.
He is smiling wider then the ocean can stretch.
He is french.
Wrinkled.
Glowing.
We have come to the topsham fair.
Strange creatures pass and we gaze at them,
Talking about how funny or pretty or different they are.

We eat french fries.
He looks down.
"Your grandmother never ate skins on potatoes. She was old fashioned."
"You must of ate a ton of em then, huh?"
"Oh yeah, all kinds."

Two girls around 20 skip on by
Short denim dresses,
Bright red lipstick,
Candy apple shoes.

"Back in my day i'd be chasing those little girls all over the place. Now half the time they're chasing you!" I laugh
"Yeah, I have fun papa, not as much as you had though"
"I thought i'd find some old geezers like me but they aren't here."
"Well I'm sure they're around. let's go find some."

We get off the bench
walk a ways.
His cane clicking on the old tar.
We stopped to watch a young boy laugh on the pirate ship.
It swings him up high
He screams and giggles.
We smile up at him.
Watch his mother put hands to her mouth and heart attack.

We come across a bench with two grey haired men and an empty seat.
"Can I sit here?"
"Oh come on down!"

Papa, well,
He starts talking about the good old days.
"My wife passed away four months ago."
He talks to the grey haired men.

As they make conversation,
I realize, there's a reason us lonely men stick together.

We get it, Sometimes.
You just need to talk about the pain
like it's just something that happened.
If you keep saying it.
You can remember it.
You can be there for awhile.
Instead of here.
Instead of lonely.

Lonely men love stories.
We love hearing stories.
We love telling our stories.

If a lonely man tells you his story.
Listen.

I dont remember the first time we spoke,
or the last but I remember all the times in between,
I remember my birthday in Pre K when you came to visit me for lunch because my mother couldnt,
I remember when you first taught me the "hambone song" and every easter egg hunt, every ripped open christmas gift, I remember every picture on the walls and the smell of your cologne,
I remember the first time I heard you had cancer,
I didnt know what it meant,
but I cried,
I cried because I also remembered my moms best friend being the first death I wtinessed because of whatever cancer was,
I remembered her skinny body getting thinner and thinner as the cancer weathered her away and I remember my mom crying at the funeral but I was too confused and scared to cry,
now hearing that this disease was inside the only respectable male figure in my life at the time was terrifying,
then I remember learning it was only in your finger and they simply removed it and that was that, I wasnt sure why it didnt work that way with Darlene.
I remember all the jokes you used to make and how everyone had a nickname,
I remember how you made the best breakfast anywhere ever,
I remember your cataract surgery, I remember every hopsital visit I was present for and i remember the pain you went through when your wife of 55 years died of a heart attack, the wife you fed cleaned and clothed because her mental capacity had been severly hindered by annurisms and strokes past, and who you loved till the very end.
I remember that funeral making more sense and the whole death thing being alot easier to grasp,
I cried at that one.
I remember the second time I heard you had cancer,
in the same finger,
and they removed it the same way.
I remember you driving an hour from new orleans just to bring us satsumas and make my mom laugh,
I remember the third time they said you had cancer and it was something worse,
in your lungs,
and it was some monster with a name I was familiar with from tv,
mesothelioma, I remember them saying you had no more than 6 months to live and I was only a freshman then with no respect for authority and no understanding of the importance of appreciating your time with people,
I remember the law suits,
I remember you paying off our house,
and our land note,
and I remember you being so sick at one point you couldnt leave your bed,
there was liquid pooling in your lungs and weighing them down on your spina nd I can only imagine that feels like having glass shoved throgh your back from the inside out,
you layed and bore it for days with the pain medication,
you took so much you couldnt really function, just to avoid the pain, and it want really working..
I remember my aunt walking in on you trying to load your revolver and having to wrestle it from your hands,
my aunt told me in tears that you asked her to let you **** yourself,
I remember you getting better when they put some talc in your lungs to absorb the liquid,
and you got better.
well for a couple months,
and things seemed to be looking up,
but then it came back in full force,
and I guess at this point you deserved the rest,
i remember looking at your body in the casket and thinking
"this is the last time ill see you?  thats not fair"
I remember looking around the room at family and friends I had never met and thinking of all the people you were leaving behind and sobbing because it was not ******* fair,
I remember your mother having to bury you in her 99th year on earth,
I remember your casket being closed and the poems my cousins read but I was too shy to write,
I remember riding in the limo on the way to bury you and how we all joked to keep our mind off it,
and I remember wanting to ***** as my stomach twisted watching your coffin be placed into your grave next to the wife you married as a ahandsome young man with your whole life ahead of you,
I thought in that moment if you knew all the lives youd effect or create,
I just wanted to say thankyou because I never did and now I couldnt ever.
like I said I dont remember the first time or last time we spoke but I remember everything in between and not even death can take those memories from me I will drag them to the bottom of hell with me if I have to.

She sits at your side-
hands laced into one.
unknown if we will lose 0 or 2,

the night is unwelcome,
    a beast that never sleeps.
       Slowly it may grasp you,
       fading opposite the rising sun
           -i hope.

you said you feel warm.
you said you like the big blanket
    maybe these will be the last of your words,
        no I loves you,
        no goodbyes,
            that's not you're style,
            that is not you.


I hope his grip is strong.
It may be the final one you hold.
I hope the last kiss-
    frail.
    passionate.
    a goodbye.
is nothing like the first-
    strong.
    loving.
    a hello.

of course I am no teller of fates,
but-
tonight I feel was a goodbye,
    a goodbye truly you
        simple.
            I will never get over how simple-
        curt.
            fewer words have hardly been spoken-
        last.

You said you feel warm.
You said you like the big blanket.
You said the facilities were nice.
     All I heard was,
It would be okay to die here.
It would be okay to say goodbye here.
     All I heard was goodbye.

He fiddled with the flick of the newspapers

as one flicks with the fiddles of monotony

Back and forth, back and forth

Like a fake apology.

The thing he does with the newspaper,

Rolls the rampant fabric of reality,

To put betwixt to anythings.

Limping table, limping stove, and

limping heart.