Death of Happiness…by Jessie


As I walk down the moon lit trail to the bone yard of emotions,
Searching for Happiness…
I find the head stone I’ve been looking for.
Tucked away in an obscure corner of the yard, underneath the tree of forgetfulness and solitude; giving way to the ages and crumbling beneath the daily pressures of life.
There sits a stone, cold and gray and ravaged by the wind.
In it… carved for eternity … “Happiness”.
No dates for who knows when it perished?
There I stand, head hung down, never got to say good bye; never got to shed a tear.
Ripped away in early days; if I could only remember the year.
Resurrection doubtful and prayers never seem to help.
I’ll lay a pebble upon the stone as a marker that I have been here.
Write the date within my book, to remind me…
Retune same time next year.

[My beloved Mum died 2 years ago today.]



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXXVI)


This wan light draws up shadows for pretense,
Their fragile shapes like ghosts in sheer betrayl
Upon dry lanes bleached ere for safety, pale
Blue skies with half an eye, winds piercing thence
Nor but too bitter as they scour from hence
The frore and stubbled fields none wander; frail
And icy clouds with grey battalions hail
Is't who'd observe in passing?, like's good sense.
I cherish naked trees' black forms in tour,
Now clustered by the graveyard, tombstones to
Effect 'non dotting hallowed ground is't? poor
As our fond notions, dim hours' greyer cue
Sae perfect as Death owns that space as twere,
While leering at souls through these minutes too.

12Jan18a

desperately trying to remember how to piece words together
****** smoking in a graveyard under smoke and stars
Trying to remember the feeling

feeling like a young boy crying in a forest
atreyu's journey thwarted by biology
high heeled and femme and feeling so far away
‎ caked in makeup, we hide our tears in costume like others before us
‎ sons and daughters and countless others, we are but the lost children
‎
‎ effortlessly drifting under darkened skies
‎ held alight by stars and aura from a fire in the back of the graveyard
‎ tipsy melting mind turning all topsy turvy with my mouth full of cotton
‎ existential loneliness shivering on mausoleum benches
‎ ******* in smoke
‎ or chemical mist
‎loneliness
‎ there are some things worse than death

On Thursday evening
I pray near a Grave in Kashmir
Incense sticks
And candles
Lit in bundles
Aroma makes me feel
As I kneel

This is land of my forefathers
Where they rest
I too look for a place nearest
I belong to these graves
Here my soul craves
To sleep till eternity
In the Eden of divinity
What else I Should ask
That has more dignity
~
Mirza Sharafat

The reek of bourbon vanilla lingering through the sappy tones
Of creased leaves and crooked horns, enveloping the royal grave
Embedded with stone, the coronated statue of vines and thorns
Twirling around the remaining cores

Rotten cells and dark floral gourd, an unstable mass crawling
Amongst the bare, rotten shores
The empty shells howl its name - the king
Of naught
Brought to death on the brink - in a whim

Clasping roots and grasping vines,
Luscious soot and dull amethyst,
The graveyard of which the warriors of Gaia
Patrolled in everlasting melancholy - the betrayal of the monarchy
In which they found pleasure in the guilt of misery
They atone for the death of the reign,
Raining in droplets of sulphur and rosebuds,
Meek of the pink of the roses, embroidering the newfound majesty

Alas, the journey of futility,
The thorns grasp its throat
The emperor has been coronated to cease once more.

You're here.
I feel you
You're underground.
I feel you in the nature surrounding your grave

You're ashes now.
It's as if you never existed
only in memory now.

What color are your clothes now?
Are they still blue?
What do you look like?

You exist in the air around me
as I sit beside your stone
I'm the only one in the cemetery

Do you know these other people?
What's it like in that other dimension?
Are you still writing poetry?
Do you know you're dead?
Is it better?
Do you miss it?

I've written to you
I read you my letters
Talking to air that you occupy

I lean against your stones,
Feeling cradled by you
even though it's been years
since you disappeared.

You will always exist
I walk around the corner
to visit another friend.

How have you been?
I'm sorry I haven't thought about you in awhile
I cry
I don't want your memory to disappear

I slowly walk out of the graveyard
Feeling empty and whole
at the same time.

I'm not leaving you here
I'm breaking you out of this "beautiful" place
You're coming with me