Deena 3d

i have my own weird story about Princess Diana. when she passed in August twenty years ago, i was living in western Nebraska. i loved my little job with a little family-owned motel near the base of the Scottsbluff National Monument. i remember thinking the day she died,
i've got to remember this. for whatever reason, i gazed at the heavens during a break in a little nook Clyde and Mary made for smokers. the sky
was baby blue, the clouds were clustered puffs of white, the sun was high noon, as perfect golden as any child could draw in primary colors all. i thought of Princess Di
dead. it truly was sad, how she went, the circumstantial evidence of a royalty marred by passive-aggressiveness by her in-laws. so many people die every day. some are famous, most are not.
her death affected me i just figured it was mostly because she was female, like me, and because she was such a shining light,
a true beauty in presentation of how great human beings can be when we follow our hearts, even if we are mocked or disparaged. she was an example, maybe, of someone who did rise
above it all. i took those moments that day to think about her briefly and then went back to work. then at night,
the dreams began coming about a month after she died in France. in one of them, she and i
talked at length in a treehouse together, with a flashlight between us, fireflies and stars our partners, truly a storybook kind of scene and in another, she was bloody, quiet
and i was the one mostly talking, telling her things would be all right as i tried to wipe the scarlet from her face. in still another dream, she was acting as though she was a lifelong friend and not a princess at all.
it was a mash of dreams from the heart of a woman only 31 years old, me, and she was running around in my psyche. i remember telling a few people about my dreams of Princess Diana.  
well later, in October,
i found out i was pregnant and the date of conception mirrored the day she died, right around that time, within one week, no more. the baby daddy found it wild. we both recalled late August well, for our own life events and for the funeral of a princess in England, the motherland of so many. at odd moments over the years, i
have recalled the closeness of her untimely death and then the heavensent and sweet birth of my little blond girl, the latter a long time dream come true.
i'm not suggesting anything mystical. it's one of those weird things in life that has discernible thought-worthy components. my daughter, like Diana, is beautiful.

Julia, one of many, many babies conceived in late August, 1997.

Another light went dark
so I am even more alone at night
they ended their suffering
will I end mine?

The body is a sickness
life is a disease
how long I have to suffer?
When will I be released?

Heart heavy like a stone
I wanna heal
I wanna feel
like I’m somewhere I belong

RIP Chester Charles Bennington

Listening to the rain
Thinking back
To how it made you
I remember your face

Gloomy days
Spent laughing
Talking about galaxies
Parallel dimensions
Insane gods
Our favorite books
How there can be
So many of each
And how they all rule
Our lives
In the strangest of ways
Ways we may never

In the evening
You'd dance around
While cooking supper
Drinking dark beer
Smoking herb
And those fucking menthols
While eating zoomers
And singing
At the top of your lungs
Without a care in the world

If I'd only knew
You were sick
What you were thinking
How scared you were
Knowing something
Wasn't right
Ignoring it
Just trying to
Live happy
Much like I do now

My only wish
Is that we had more time
Because the pain
It doesn't fade
It only gets a little
Easier to handle
I know
That's selfish
But I'd still wish it
Just to see your face
A few more times
And say the things
I didn't get to

I think about what I would say
What I would do different
If it would even matter
Because we all die anyway
Even the best of us
Which you were
Teaching me things
Like how to live free
And die with dignity
With all flaws included
Owning them
Like golden medals

©James Dennis Casey IV

Talking with the dead.
The living stumble ahead.
Night of the dread
Watch in black, white and red.

Dawn breaks for light
Good bye to the night
He created for giving
Dead pleasing the living.

Days of darkness
A torn sodden dress
A beautiful mess
The perfect distress.

A Shot to the head to kill
Oh what a terrifying thrill
On blood and guts we gorge
All from a man named George.

George A Romero, Rest in Peace
Josh Jul 13

The bells ring out, their sonorous toll
To speed, upon its way, your soul
Your life, too short, yet full of plenty
Dear are you, in our memory
Always working, striving for more
With a humour, we did adore
You, do not, deserve this strife
And yet, look back upon your life
Much laughter, now, too, tears
I, and others, for your life, smile
Now, for your death, we cry
And yet, I fancy you would not
Wish tears, so I'll smile
And fondly, as the years pass
Think on our shared while
My great uncle, your mischievous smile
Your youthful abandon
I will miss you dearly
Now that you are gone
Here, for you, a requiem
To soothe your startled soul
Lift you up, to higher things
Not a six by twelve foot hole
Alas, it is goodbye now
In peace, great uncle, test
The once light eyes, are glassy now
The heart, still, in your breast
And now I can form no more words
Go, be at peace, out of this world
Rest in peace, and not mischief
To you, great uncle, farewell.

A piece for my great uncle. Who died yesterday. Rest in peace. You will be missed.
Alex Jul 13

As sudden as an ocean wave, the valve in his heart gave up.
Standing at the cemetery gates I finally understood.
He is gone. He is missed.
But he is not coming back.

In the blink of an eye, he was under the truck.
Standing at the cemetery gates I finally found peace.
Peace with the truck driver and peace with myself.
Most importantly peace with God.

As bullet hit the gun dropped from his head to the floor.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was angry.
Angry as his parents, angry at the school.
Angry with myself. But mostly angry at him.

Her car veered off the road, down the ledge into the water but it wasn't an accident.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was lost.
I couldn't understand why this happened.
I couldn't fathom why she did this to herself.

Thanksgiving morning, metal on metal, laughter dies.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was broken.
My soul so tired, holding those around me.
One life was gone and another hung in the balance.

His father saw him drop the gun as his body fell, wanted to run and save his son.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was numb.
Numb with shock and fear and cold
During that frigid and depressing December.

You can't beat the train. He knew but didn't listen.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was empty.
So many pieces of my heart were taken during the year
I wasn't sure there was anything left.

Standing at the cemetery gates I look around at all the friends I have buried. I thought high school was supposed to be the simple time in life, but if that's the case, why did they all have to go?

RIP Mitch, RIP Ryan, RIP Christian, RIP Jenna, RIP Kyle, RIP Jack, RIP Dallas
Josh Jul 13

And so friend farewell to you
You will be missed, dear friend adieu
In the earth your body shall lie
We commend your soul to the gods on high
And weep for the loss of a promising life
Oh how the earth and heaven shall cry
Oh friend, oh friend I do lament
All our time unwisely spent
All our woes and all our folly
Though some of our time was surely jolly
You whom I loved
Beloved friend, my hearts kin
You are gone now and free from sin
And so with angels rest your soul
Never to fear growing old
Oh I weep I weep
I cry and cry
Men must be strong, that is a lie
How can I friend, I beg you tell
When you, my support, toppling, fell
And I have fallen lowly now
Mourning one who is gone down
Unto the earth
Oh she is blessed, to have you, in her bosom, rest
Whether friend, foe, brother or lover
All at times, and none at others
Surely none could ever so well
Be as you were, your perfect self

Another one from my book "ivory and gold" available on Amazon.
Words by T Jul 3

I remember brown eyes
And I remember white fur
I remember the times
That I used to hold her  
Lovingly in my arms
Or petting her till she rolled over on the floor  
Hoping for more pets on her belly
So I rub her stomach and play with her arms
Expecting her to play along
She almost always did
Until she got sick
There was no more playfulness    
At times she would only lick as a sign of affection                                    
Oh, how I miss her happiness
That's why on that day you left
I understood that it was for the best
Even though it made me a mess
I had nothing less                              
Than unconditional love
For my darling, Jessie
Baby, I'll be there right with you, just wait
I'll meet you at Heaven's gate
And once again, we can play
Like we used to until that tragic day

Jazzed Jun 28

that was a hard goodbye...
you grabbed my hand so tight
exactly like the first time
i cried about your cancer

cancer is a bad word
revolving around a cynical industry
& plagued with fear and loss
.. i hate that word

you made that word beautiful somehow
you made that word whimper
with the light from your
nicotine stained smile
you made cancer your bitch

you told me not be dismal because
"I"ll be here tomorrow"
you told me not to cry because
"We have things to get done"

i still have things to get done
and so do you
i loathe that you aren't here to do them

for my momma, a beautiful soul.

The story of Marilyn Monroe is like a fairytale of sorts
She was a simple and shy sweetheart who one day let her beauty for the world to show
Everyone knew her name, her glamour and fame, the glitter and lights in her name
But no one knew the real Marilyn, her private inner life
Plagued with tragedy, demons, and strife
A mentally broken mother, distant and sometimes unfaithful lovers, and personal demons that plagued her in the dark
Marilyn Monroe herself was just a mask; an alterego to shelter and protect the sensitive and quiet little Norma Jean
From a shy sweet girl to a vivacious and sultry sex goddess
Marilyn Monroe is a lot like you and me
She was a starlet beauty who was realistic and relatable
Tragically, she died and left the world; her name and life still a mystery to this day
Here's a story of a little girl who dreamed to conquer the world

Norma Jean aka Marilyn Monroe

A tribute to Norma Jean aka Marilyn Monroe
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