Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lou left!

It was an unexpected cataclysm;
A rogue wave in my face;
A flapping jib in the lightning;
A broken string
As I began Yesterday.

Today, I read his life's history,
His likes and loves.
I will replace that string,
And finish the song.
Before I forget,
Before too long;
For I was his mate
In many a storm.
Lou Spizziri: 1951-2024
Jeremy Betts May 2022
I'm an open book with the tendency to get mistook and overlooked now more than ever cause the binding and the cover are extraordinarily ordinary
The frail, mousey lead character labeled fragilé and plagued with insecurity lacks any measurable or substantial substance, no originality, even the unremarkably troubled back story is unapologetically void of creativity
Absolutely zero structure to the flimsy plot lines leaving the majority unfinished and frustratingly empty, holes in the Swiss cheese history are aplenty, no matter the number it's always one too many, never held any water to begin with but regardless they surface constantly, scattered with no purpose throughout condemned property
The gaps in the sketchy timeline and the untimely flashbacks make it extremely difficult to follow, subsequently leaving the reader feeling uneasy, maybe even queasy
Couple that with the fact that the blood, sweat and tears that poor from me onto every page render every letter a blurry mystery
Ink rapidly bleeding beyond any point of legibility so I scurry into obscurity like the first bit of graffiti to hit the walls of a lost city
Or unlit cave dwelling residency that sheltered the beginnings of humanity, I don't say that metaphorically, this is all factually documented as actually happenin' to me
Completely being brushed over, over and over, leaves little to no room for closure, how could it be there is no retail value either even though I'm the soul owner of the one and only lonely copy
I must confess that honestly it's in rough shape visually, no secrecy, anyone and everyone can easily see, so it's insincerely looked over briefly with contempt and downgraded accordingly but unfairly
While momentarily left in dormancy to see if the monetary value to society rises any or will it be one to continually trend downwardly, accepting mortality
At this point breathing is just a formality, I know tomorrows not a guarantee so I scribble away feverishly, going at it tirelessly, throwing words around recklessly
Pointless? Quite possibly. Meaningless? Most definitely. Worthless? Well, how could it not be? I'd quickly place a bet on all three being casually mentioned in the book review, or what some of you might call my obituary
It could be and seems most likely to me to be revealed that it belongs in it's own category or at the very least a separate offshoot subcategory
OR, or, it could be disrespectfully decided to never even ever let it be represented digitally or physically in any online or city library across the entirety of this comically hypersensitive and ridiculously touchy country
They be watching over me shoulder every day as I dot every i perfectly and diligently cross every t, proofreading religiously so they take me seriously and can't use it against me
It's limited edition but surely nothin' special, hopefully still worthy of somethin', but here in reality it's realistically nothin' more than knockoff Gucci or black market Versace
Sounds fishy, I know, but what else could it possibly be when I have the answer key, it's literally my story, I not only wrote but lived every word you see and it still doesn't even hold any significance or importance to me
Every chapter awkwardly forced upon me, it'll clearly end horribly but I'm no visionary, not even close actually, would never catch me even trying or claiming to be
I just precisely record the facts on the spot as they happened to me no matter how bizarrely scary some happen to be, it's important to me that you see what I see
See, you'll see the cruelty in the issue that taunts me as it haunts me. The hot seat question then becomes can you possibly understand the conundrum that is me or even slightly comprehend my cursed duality?
A comedy turned tragedy then unfortunately forced to take the back seat immediately as people barbaricly laugh mockingly at said tragedy, the jokes on me apparently and I've never found it to be very funny
Notice that it both plagues my future and tarnished my history and I'm presently left with presumably only a falsely and improperly placed memory of happy
Remembered as nothing but the worst of me, my eulogy will most certainly read like a roast minus any dose of comedy
If you choose to take this journey and walk the path along side me you're more than likely to come to the same conclusion as me that the powers to be are stingy with the good karma while the bad energy is unnaturally loaded on all *****-nilly in spite of me with little concern for safety
OSHA be ****** apparently, all it takes is the thought of me being a presence in the vicinity of you and your family to make you question both your safety and my sanity at any given moment, occasionally I'll switch it up randomly to avoid the monotony
A painfully pitiful joke that seemingly seems to be getting worse optically, a ****** B movie parody of Steven Kings Misery, all pain, no joy, no money, I mean no interest, I mean no possibility of a remedy
A mocumentary if you will, but the pain is real still and it's going steady, a run on sentence dragged out endlessly through a raging sea of emotionally charged assault and self battery that continually thrash relentlessly all around me
The weight of my world has always been too heavy since all the way back in my infancy, flip to the first couple pages to jog your memory if need be, then take and make a mental note that today I'm pushing 40

******* that's a long time to knowingly be held in captivity,  I've already been through it and the recap still surprisingly hits me hard with a backing of PTSD

Your cross is just a fashion accessory, my cross drags in the dirt behind me and wasn't set properly, shoulders barely able support it and I couldn't transfer the load any
So I grab a penny for each eye, yet another money based payment ritual for the ferry man to finish the last chapter the best he can with mixed in commentary from the peanut gallery that'll ultimately reveal my true identity and destiny hidden in the smoke screen of my twisted personality
The one predicted by the aforementioned conflicting and confusing history, though obviously if you've been following closely at all you've seen the rate of my fall and calculated it's trajectory down to the nth degree
It has always been and will continue to be aimed directly at the fiery lake for all eternity, not much different than where I reside currently so really I'm in no hurry if its more or less going to be the same scenery
I guess if you want to be a **** about it you could probably make the argument that my life played out accordingly, regardless, I'm getting what's owed to me cause I bucked conformity and normality, spit in the face of misplaced authority
Whoa is me? Yeah no, whoa is you buddy, you should worry because the last page doesn't mean end of story necessarily, I'll live on in your thoughts as something far more scary
See, I wouldn't be able hurt you or even touch you physically but I'll guarantee to use my literacy platform to completely destroy your psyche like what was so savagely and aggressively done to me, looking back that's all I see
I've sighted every atrocity three pages from the back glossary if you ever have the need to fact check me, again, feel free but know that my story board is messy, I'm not use to entertaining company
The facts get a little bit more hazy every day and where slapped together haphazardly with no rhyme or reason to what I have too say, not a thread of continuity, and you can go on and forget about decency, that word isn't even in my dictionary
I want to take this opportunity to openly welcome anybody that can hear me to read my diary, I've made it easy and removed the lock and key, humor me and start with my autobiography
Get to know your enemy, you'll find what to use against me personally but also what I'll do to wipe you from my minds eye permanently before you grace the pages of my memory
Take this as a priority mail special delivery type promise inside a threat spread widely through a reputable distribution company
And now, since having the rare opportunity to slowly but fully get to know me just a wee better, you must know then that to doubt me is stupid risky, just facts here, no theory of relativity
May I suggest you completely drop expectations and turn each page carefully, it's not for the faint of heart obviously, don't approach this carelessly or it could consume you entirely, but that's not my responsibility
Erie from the start, so it'd be smart to get ready, it's about to get heavy, prepare yourself mentally, this is the type of gory, all guts no glory underdog revenge ****** mystery story that wouldn't even make late night cable tv
Though it'd truly be funny to slap a PG rating on the first copy just to watch them fully lose their **** and collectively scramble to get said copy pulled indefinitely
Anyway, no movie adaptation in the works, no straight to DVD release party and that's all fine by me, I ain't even angry about it really, okay, maybe I am a little grumpy but that comes with the contemporary territory
Read it, don't read it, buy it legitimately or steal a copy, it's all the same to me, everything you need to know, and some **** you wish you didn't, is right here in the typography
From living righteously to becoming a bully to getting lost in my own hypocrisy, it's all laid out lazily for every single truth seeker and neigh sayer to see
There's nothing left to say anyway so pretty please, once free from the pages, can you finally, quietly but quickly, leave and just let me be me? I'd appreciate it emencly

Alrighty, let's begin shall we.

-Chapter one-

      Our story both begins and ends in the same fashion in that neither needed to happen and the fact that they both did changed nothin', a breath of life wasted on a nobody with nothin' left to offer but what's left of the shattered dignity and pride, otherwise emptiness resides and we'll be taking a look back through pain filled eyes, recounting the rise and fall, the crippling journey and what ultimately triggered this poor man's untimely demise...

KHY Oct 2023
I wake with stone eyes that
plaster tears through my crevices;
petrifying my momentum.

I'm stuck here perpetually,
praying only to those who can't hear.
I'm a stone wall; a mountain that
passes no breeze.

I solidify in this coffin waiting
bitterly for a lovers kiss
that will never come.
for my worth isn't written on my lips;
its plastered on my obituary.
GaryFairy Sep 2021
an obituary page
used aluminum foil
whiskey bottle
glimpse of a shadow
shadow of a man

forever stuck there
orange and yellow leaves
crumpled breath

aching heart
aching feet
wandering nowhere

tuesday songlist
maledimiele Dec 2020
When someone leaves, what remains?
An “in memory of” on Facebook, a black-and-white profile picture, a last post with 360 likes, a music video
8 unread WhatsApp messages, 1 grey tick instead of 2 in a group chat
Nocturnal analysing of your social media accounts, finding truth in between your Instagram captions
Your last statement to the world, a peace emoji just above said music video
The question if this is what peace looked like for you
The question if it really was peaceful
The question what crossed your mind, 1 millisecond before the world before your eyes turned into a black void forever
The question when you thought about becoming a memory for the first time
The question when you thought about becoming a memory for the last time
The question where souls, if they exist, go when someone dies
The question what state of aggregation souls have
The question if you’re now air, soil or both
A cold shiver when I find the ad for your room, published 4 weeks ago. You were always looking ahead.
Your books and files meticulously arranged in one of the pictures, neat as a pin
The question how it must have had looked inside of you. Was it the chaos or were you tired of cleaning up? Did you have windows, could you see outside? When someone knocked, did you open? When did you realize the light switch? When did you decide to turn the lights off?
When someone leaves, what remains?
An empty room
Unread messages
People reacting with that crying emoji on all your posts
Things you’ve left undone
Anger, sympathy, maybe someday absolution
Anguish, fright
Thoughts about your family
Good reasons, bad reasons
An obituary in the local newspaper
An iPhone with no battery
A voicemail leading directly into nothingness
An as good as new e-piano, only 5 weeks old
A rancid peace of butter in the back of your fridge
Administrative workload
An incomplete mission
Questions without answers.
Dante Rocío Jul 2020
Bury all my entrails.

Y otros deshielos,
Sin ningún cubrimiento
Literal o no,
Sin tumba de piedra
Ni flores ya matados
Para mi indulgencia.

En un bosque.

Tenero e silenzioso,
Ma della grandezza
Dell’Allah creato,

Al lado de un árbol
Que me elegirá
Por debajo de la tierra.

No coffin,
Nor money.

Planter pépins
Et autres
Futures vies
Dans ma tombe pour que
Mon corps puisse alimenter
Ces pousses du sol.

Pour que les racines
Me donnent bienvenue
Chez ma Maison enfin
Et qu’elles

Spread into the world
All the tears & blades
Of my guilts & glories,
Publish one way or another
My mission/
Work to them
With due dedication

Don’t recall my intelligence
Or talent,
Rather all beauties I was
& gave life to,
My Passion in my
Chosen things,
My love,
Striving for beating the measlyness
Of this world out of
Or in me,
My wisdom.

How I placed my eyes,
Poems and efforts upon you
And on this state of things’ world,
How Language, Literature,
Words, Dreams,
Tears and Art celebrated my
Days alongside me as true
People indeed.

How I fought shame and death,
Longed to make you feel
My gaze’s intensity on
(Or not) you,
How I kept facing lies
Of useless withering
Despite ingenuity of mine.

I shall finally embrace
Eywa/Allah/God/The Moon
And see if I was worth it all
In the end.
I will probably finally meet
My Lover dearest
To see if they were there after all
And kiss them with the greatest
Fervor I can muster.
I will become all those things
Lingering in the air
And coming to your gut
When you sense
And as much suddenly
Can’t explain.

No more will I have to eat,
Be clothed (in muzzle)
Or wear shoes.
No more will anyone make me
Care about how my vessel
Looks like.

Join my departure,
All you
To whom I’ve ever mattered
More than casual,
Join my freedom.
Live, strive,
Breath at last,
Think, love, wonder/wander,
Feel, read, touch,
And literally kiss the
Trees, sky
And all sacralities you are in/on.

And if I hadn’t completed
My mission yet,
I’ll do what I can
To be back
And linger

Thank you.
The rest shall come in full-packed richness at this life’s true end.
A long yet just an entry to what I wish to leave as an obituary. Just a beginning and certainly with an end further in the distance than it could be.
Of funeral thoughts N*3
Jonathan Moya Mar 2020
Many say the last thing the dying see
is the flap of dove wings
or Jesus caressing their hair.
Her hallucinations were full of Him
smiling at her, speaking words
she could not understand.
And when I draped the
blanket over her cold feet,
crowned with the blue bruise
of all her past complications,
she was convinced I was Him.  

I played the game.  
“Hush, little one.  
I am here for you.  
Do not be afraid.”
I left for a moment.
I wept.
She had fallen asleep.

Before I could
return the next day,
she had passed.

Her eyes were closed.
Her mouth was a half smile,
as if she had heard a bell,
had tasted the sweetest thing.

I wondered what was that last
great thing she had heard or seen,
but she had taken her memory with her.
Sofia Ageyeva Jan 2020
3 years ago my teacher
asked me to write my own obituary,
as an exercise in self-study...

I wrote that I was a good mother...
    Was I?
    Am I?
I’m not perfect!
        Like every other mother...
Please don’t judge me!
Please don’t judge anyone!
Even your mother...

Was she ever perfect?
    Were you?
The moment you were born....
You were a perfect baby,
Your mom was a perfect mother...
Life happens... and happens... and happens...
Love happens too...
So much love...
    So much milk...
        So much sweat...
            So much tears....

How can I write my own obituary?
neth jones Sep 2019
i gratefully mourn your tragedy
and thank you
for providing charity toward my meaning

i’ve followed your information for a long time
though i longed for a more extensive feed
the manner of your exit drama...

..the piece was both satisfying and complete

myself ?
i’ll leave a dim reading behind

when my individual concept ceases
few shall take a personal interest

this is fine also

                               - an onlooker
Next page