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krm Aug 2021
He broke his neck thirty years ago
I break mine more with each
promise of keeping you in my life
but Ian Curtis is on my mind a lot,
grieving for souls I will never know.

Some of his songs are so sad,
like hearing the premature
snap of his bones

Cannot help but resent
how clever society is
to glamorize the unglamorous,
even I am aware
the flowers upon graves are not just for
aesthetics, but we are still always trying
to cover terrible tragedies
with beautiful things.

Am I just as guilty?

I cheat on you with him.
His spirit through my headphones,
hoped if I listen intently
the narrative changes.

purple marks on your neck
just that weekend you
taught me what a hickey was
and how they felt good

yours’ declare ownership,
not declarations of love.

You walk into art class,
purple painted across your throat.

If love could save Ian,
had I lived in the mid-seventies
he may very well have lived forever
and his throat painted by love,
rather than the bruises of a noose.

The letters I wrote you were in vain,
my mistake quoting those Smiths’
songs:
Morrissey is an *******
and so are you.

I still
am too scared to
wonder how far I am willing
to go
to reap the benefits of sorrow.

"New Dawn Fades"
tears into my heartstrings
feeling responsible in
the prevention of another
suicide

I grapple onto
what a savior complex was,
your dead father
the tracks on your arms made me cry
but I thought it was stupid.
It made me hate myself more
why could I not learn to undo
my drive to save anyone,
but myself

The phone call
where I broke up with
you and you
pretend to
overdose on the speaker

One of us had to grow up,
had to make it out alive
And I love you again,
every time Ian's ghost
sings Isolation.

And I leave you there,
sure, to end the album
after the final song.
At sixteen an obsession with Unknown Pleasures and ******-addicted boys.
Rose Everest Jan 2019
Meeting you was like falling in love for the first time,
I was attracted to your charms yet I'm scared of the outcome.

your sharp witted thoughts,
endearing smile,
and your sharp mouth.

you were like the big blue ocean,
so harsh yet calming.

and yet,
I still love you and hate you for everything that
happened between the both of us.
'lansasa' is his initials
he is my senior.
Alonely Ghost Nov 2018
I had a dream of a dead friend once.
Words cannot describe how it made me feel.
He's been dead since May 2017,
but I feel him alive everywhere around me.
I see him,
In Garrett's curly hair.
I see him,
In the fiery red locks that Bridget has.
I see him,
In the blue eyes of my best friend.
I see him in the freckles on Julayne's face.
A long time ago,
I would have said that I hated him.
Maybe a part of me still does.
But a part of me also wishes that I could have said my peace
before the inevitable death came to be.
Part one of 2 parts.
Savannah Aug 2018
"tip-tap, tip-tap"

I keep my head down as walk through the halls
My shoes are ***** I need to clean them, just don't make eye contact

"tip-tap, tip-tap"

I look up quickly before I bump into a blue shirted young girl
I mumble an apology I know she won't hear because I can't manage to actually say it

"tip-tap, tip-tap"

I stumble into the room, bright and inviting, not intimidating
I see the only two faces that'll smile at having seen me today

Probably the only ones who'll notice me

"tip-tap, tip-tap"

I find my seat in the corner next to the fish with the funny name and finally exhale
I can say the first thing I'll say out loud all day

"Hi."

I'm okay. I know I'll be okay.
Thanks for reading
12/12/17

I have something within me that I cannot
Bear the burden of of its insinuation.
In the sport-ability of chit-chat I have
Often tried to conquer these thoughts
And with infinite pain I have hazarded
A thousand things hidden within myself.

“Excuse me,’’ I said upon seeing his face
Coming toward me while walking in Central Park.
“Are you who I think you are?’’ I asked.
“I suppose that depends on who you think I am,” he replied.
Not wanting to be made out a fool I asked
“OK, are you best known as JFK?”
“Well not exactly, he was my father,” he said with a smile.

I stuck out my hand like an idiot – but -
He offered his hand and shook mine like a man.
“I can’t believe it,” I said, “You really can
Bump into anyone in the big apple.”
He said that he had to be going, had to finish
His walk and get back to the office.

I asked him if I could tag along, just walk with him.
He said, “Sure.”
He kept a brisk pace, it was a cool day but comfortable.
The leaves were turned, mostly all fallen and
Then I realized that it was November 22nd.
“I’m real sorry about your dad,” I said,

“It broke my heart when I was a child.”
He nodded his head and sort of slowed his pace.
“How old were you?” he asked.
“I was 9”.
“I was 3”, he said looking at the ground.
“Yeah I know,” I said, “Everybody knew.”

He stopped and turned toward me,
Tilted his head to the left and point blank said,
“You know the story about my dad’s assassination
Is all BS don’t you?”
He caught me completely off guard but before I
Could say anything he turned back around and starting

Walking away from me like I had the plague.
I stood in my tracks but after he had gotten about 10 paces
He stopped and turned, “Well, do you want to walk or not?”
I half jogged to catch up with him and when I did
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Look I don’t know you and you don’t know me, “ he said
In a rough almost angry voice.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
Still half jogging to keep up with him I answered,
“Sounds like you need someone to talk to.”

He slowed a bit, “I just got confirmation on who killed my dad.”
OK, about this time I’m like you saying a few choice curse words
In my mind – like holy sh…. You know..
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Hell I don’t know,” he said, “It’s all circumstantial.”
Coming to a complete stop, “There’s got to be a way that I
Can tell people, let the whole world know that I know who did it.”

He turned to me, “What would you do if you knew who took your dad
Away from you when you were just a baby but if you told anyone about these
Murdering, slime ***** they would most likely **** you too?” he asked.
“I don’t know sir,” I said shrugging my shoulders.
“If I had your money I’d figure out a way though,” I continued.
With a questioning look he asked, “OK, if you had my money what would you do?”

“I don’t know, man,” I said - “Maybe name a building after them or a street
Or something that everyone knew you named.
You know, like a hint or a clue or something.”
His eyes got big, “That’s it,” he said, “By God that’s it.”
He shook my hand again and asked me my name.
And a few short years later he was gone too.

But the name – the name he named his business – there’s your clue

They say that time heals all wounds.  That isn’t always true. Sometimes what is needed to heal some wounds is justice. I hope that someday this particular American wound gets its fully deserved justice. One thing for sure, there can never be any justice,in this instance or any other, without Truth. What is it about JFK Jr. that whispers to me that he is not really gone?
The Trumpoet Jul 2017
Don Junior had a meeting with
Natalia Veselnitskaya
and he did not disclose this fact
or say what did transpire.

Paul and Jared were there too
but "nothing was discussed".
Don said the meeting ended
and turned out to be a bust.

The New York Times found out
and asked why Don did not report.
"But nothing happened" Junior claimed
when making his retort.

Then under pressure from the press
some emails he set free,
confirming Russian interest in
a Trump presidency.

His daddy claimed, "He's a good boy"
"He's new, green and naive".
But Manafort - He should have known
(one would like to believe).

But Junior's new transparency
turned out to be untrue...
It seems that a fifth person was
there in the meeting too!

A former Soviet officer
named Rinat Akhmetshin
was also at the meeting...
so why was he brought in?

And then we soon learned of a sixth...
a seventh... and then eight!
Tied to the oligarchs and
Russian governmental state.

What was the meeting all about?
Perhaps there's nothing to surmise.
The secrecy though, would suggest
it might be otherwise.

Don Junior had a meeting
that nobody disclosed.
Let's hope this helps fulfill the dream...
to see his dad deposed!
You can also see this and my other Trump poems at: www.trumpoet.com
Link to video of this poem: https://youtu.be/ywHuZYOXBCg
Written: July 21, 2017
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