#casket
I'm afraid to start writing again. I buried my soul in a casket expecting the demons to leave me alone but they never did, so I’ll write regardless of calming the storm behind my eyes. I’ll unearth the casket and fight this battle once again.
Feb 16, 2023
Feb 16, 2023 at 4:28 PM UTC
when he was stolen from us,
the angels fell from heaven
their pure wings were ripped from their shoulders
the halos torn from atop their heads
thrown to the ash
shooting stars plunged
doomed for earth
one by one
then all together
she wept through the day
long into the night
suffocated by the thought
of remaining without him
with anger and sorrow
she blamed the angels
who were supposed to
defend him
life without him
would be a cold fire in the bitter winter
present
but with no warmth
we bid our farewell to the closed casket,
the barrier between us
as it lowered
into the dust
Apr 28, 2021
Apr 28, 2021 at 12:12 AM UTC
A dense mist hangs over the ground
Spreading tendrils over flora and fauna.
Clouds begin their quiet weeping.
Soft, gentle drops fall on the pavement.
A young girl hops along, splashing in puddles.
She trips and scrapes her knee...
Red liquid oozes through freshly ripped jeans.
Soft, gentle drops fall on the pavement.
After some time, the girl is all grown up.
A casket is lowered under the soil.
The girl, Tiffany Clear, walks home sobbing.
Soft, gentle drops fall on the pavement.
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 2:34 PM UTC
Tonight
Bury who I was
Down beneath the dirt
Laying rest to lost innocence I will never get back
Begin the funeral procession
Pay respects to another naive heart
Poet who felt too much
One dreamer who still believed true love existed
Close the casket
Lower me in
Girl I used to be is gone
Below six feet of mistrust and betrayal
She died the moment you left
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 2:21 AM UTC
Oh slower!!
Slower!!!
My dear blood
Dont rush i dont wanna do this fast.
I wanna feel it,
Every ounce,
Every droplet of red rushing out of my body screaming her name,
Within a closed Casket lies my head weary and dread where i rest all my thoughts and finally free myself from the torments of my haunted long lost love,
For i know my love wasnt fickle,
But for her It was just my love not hers.
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 3:42 PM UTC
Death came in the night,
slinking in the shadows, weaving in and out of darkness
and being stealthy
and he rested on the man's chest.
Death took cover in the blank black of night and breathed out an invisible net and caught,
lives
and took and stole
Death came disguised as sleep and in the vulnerability he snatched away life
and left the part he didn't need in the bed
as a gift, a token
He surrounded existence by his inevitable arms and strangled it, ****** it out.
Death,
he came quietly and like silent destruction,
and scattered the lines of connection,
for the dead, and for the living.
Except but he didn't come just at night.
He came dancing through summer, enveloped in joy and white lilies,
Tap dancing through the mess he created.
Turning souls into memories.
Death followed them to the beach, and spread his cloak in the warm sand, and ran in to the water
after the boy
and pulled him into his arms under the gentle waves
then allowed him to float, lifelessly
like a bouy
He was erratic and unstoppable
Transforming summer days at the beach into unspoken family grief,
celebrated yearly
the day that he swam with the boy.
Death sipped a cool drink and waited, for what to take next.
He sat patiently at the pool, with open arms and a ticket with a name on it.
He was impulsive and careless.
Death sang a song and they danced to it,
each step deadlier than the next
until
they stood at his feet dressed in white covered in permanence.
He followed around with his cart
waiting to pluck the next one
from their line
and to leave behind
distorted and collective grief
set in a bed of white silk
in a casket
Death never slept, but decided which costume to wear.
he had many,
for every occasion.
But on her day,
He dressed as an errand run
disguised as a daily task to the store
he invited his friends;
accident and collision
and told them to wait at the traffic light
and when they saw him,
they ran to meet him in the middle.
And embraced each other,
leaving a mangled ball of assorted metals behind.
with crimson splashes, strewn clothes and full stops
and they laughed
and he carried his 5 tokens
and left behind his signature,
locked the box of their future
then swallowed the key.
And he didn't look back
as he danced beautifully
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 4:00 PM UTC
what they don’t tell you about funerals is that nothing ever feels real in that too-cold room. not the flowers. not the food. not the rooms in the back your uncles stayed in to keep watch. not the ill-fitting white t-shirt your father made you purchase yesterday. not the sad smile on your grandmother’s face instead of her usual bright ones. and certainly not the dead body of your grandfather in the epicenter, still as the corpse he is and none like the grandparent you grew up with.
there was no such thing as an open casket in your family, which was good, you suppose. it’d be too much to see his face without his usual frown. the smell was off. like tea and incense and flower petals—the ones you used to bathe the buddhist statues at the vihara every new year.
the catered pork ribs taste like sandpaper. you keep waiting for the buttery taste of your grandfather’s recipe to hit your tongue but you are met with msg. it was one of the many disappointments you encountered in those three days, three absences from school. none of your friends checked up on you further than to offer their “deepest condolences”. your crush has not texted you back. you drink bottled mineral water as your mother fights with your father, whose father had just died, again.
by the time the ceremony comes you are confronted with the gold of the casket up close. you wonder if it was real gold. a few hours ago your little cousins, yet to understand the concept of death, tugged at your sleeves and asked when grandpa would be home. you sealed your lips shut and let your younger cousin handle them like she always does. because you’re not ready to admit that you don’t understand death either; not in second grade when the dragonfly your classmates cruelly stomped on no longer flew, not even less than a month later, when your other grandfather passes.
you whisper words of prayer in the mother tongue you no longer remember. your cousin sheds a tear in front of you and you wonder if it’d be appropriate to console her now. you think about how much your kneecaps hurt from kneeling for a long time. your aunt’s cries perfectly masked the buzzing phone you sneaked into your pocket. later that night, your third uncle told everyone that he saw his father-in-law welcomed by guan yin herself; you wonder if it was true, or merely another lie adults tell kids and themselves to feel better about the nonsensical nature of mortality.
what they don’t tell you about funerals is how much like a fever dream they are. when the proceedings are over you drive straight home. home smells like home and your maid made your bed like usual. the stuffed bear on your pillow has not moved since the morning. it is 11 pm, and your mother yells at you to sleep soon because your grandfather may be a jar of ashes stored in vihara but you have school tomorrow. it is time to go to bed.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 3:21 PM UTC
The dimly black craggy door
That hides bottomless secrets
Opens and closes with hollow cruelty
And is silent as the moon
So difficult it is to knock and let myself in
Pushing is useless, like pulling the trigger with the safety on
I have dreams of passing the threshold
And scream “Echo” in that empty room
Hearing nothing in return
This is where I awaken, a dream in a dream
All the lies I’ve seen and wear as my skin
A fabulous mask without eyes or a mouth
My house is painted a rainbow of monochrome
One door, Two windows, A chimney and a garden gnome.
It is where you will find me
Hidden away under the floorboards
Looking through the cracks of gleaming pine
Shaped like man
White satin sheets to comfort me
And a new suit
Mar 19, 2020
Mar 19, 2020 at 3:33 PM UTC
Matches
Ashes
Acid on my casket
Buried with the hatchet
Of my fight with this life
I knew I could never hack it
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 12:26 AM UTC
You built me a casket that was too small and expected I would accept it quietly.
-t.s.
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 12:18 AM UTC
Atop a catafalque, the morbid pedestal lies placed up ahead
Beautiful casket of pale birch laced with marbled ornament
With a flower orangerie settled upon final resting bed
Grand expensive suit fitted perfectly the dead man, toes to head
Funeral home better than his living home; lived cheap, died rich instead
All costs money he never had
Oh the luxury of being dead
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
Where were you,
when I fell apart,
Where were you,
when the beating in my chest ached to end,
Where were you,
when life crashed in and stole my tears away in pill bottles,
Where were you,
when I decided enough was enough.
Where are you?
I don't see you by me casket.
It's okay,
It's not the first time I've been abandoned
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 8:03 PM UTC
Not a coffin,
A little more elegant.
A little more stylish.
But it still holds a body all the same.
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 12:39 PM UTC
#
Been drinkin’ The Devil
but ****** run dry
I’ve drunk to his memory
and thirst after his family
I attended the funeral
pretended to cry
approached the open bar
and began to pry my luck
Bartender was most generous
Said he once was the Devils’ mascot
he poured me something unfamiliar
I awoke
scratching the inside of the casket
- i think I’m gonna be sick
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 2:11 AM UTC
Casket of regrets of
A man with a bad past whose
life has gone to death
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
Somewhere in a casket,
Random in my ransacked room,never opened.
I have your silhouettes stored,
Those which I presume a man would never behold.
I imagine your shoulders broad,
Splendid as a bridge across my glee,over which my eyes could be driven.
While I could be soaked in your chest,
For you be so taller.
Your skin being tight and thick,
Such as it already feels to be bugging in.
Your kurta being loose weighed down,
Revealing the sweated collar bones,and much of the rest.
Your complexion could melt upon me,
Wallowing under the sheets.
Your caustics could potentially outshine mine,
Up to the brink, your douchebaggery could shine.
You may sing anything, Ghazals or even hums,
Your baritone could lull me to sleep,with the heft and flatness of it,with some added tunes.
Our towns could be kilometers apart,or the residents even for light years,
Might be the same for our creeds.
Your breath could be a bower,
To the desert of mine.
Your eyes being shrunk crescent moon,
With the lashes too dense,but sight like an arrow piercing.
Your poetry could define,
And for being poet from you I wouldn't envy.
Your resilience could be better than mine,
And your adamant nature,suffice to repeat an act a million times,to achieve the desired.
Unlike me an ergophile,
You could draw a better parallel line.
You were allowed to smoke,
For it, I have an affinity untold.
Your profession be any,
Your passion be vehement,I promise then, to find you in graphite and mullar and heard in Mozart's.
Your hands masculine,with the veins bulged,
And circlets and totem wrapped,red and orange around.
Skies be your preferred roof
Under the rainy sky,the sharing of petrichor shall feel sanctified.
Your gales be a crescendo
Of delight.
Your age could be more to mine,
But things could be divine.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 1:02 PM UTC
Death must fear me too much
To take me away
So instead he takes those I love
If only death knew
I am not afraid of him
I welcome him with open arms
I stand next to her casket screaming
TAKE ME INSTEAD
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 5:07 PM UTC
I picture daisies on my grave
Yellow daisies swaying in the tall grass
Above the wooden casket holding my bones
Frozen in a state of perpetual summer
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 8:52 AM UTC
Collaborate on a spotify playlist that will play on shuffle in my casket after I go.
I want you to add songs you want me to feel the radio signals of.
We know we feel music with a fifth sense,
A full body ASMR tingle
Whispers of russian woman fixing our robot parts.
Well I can't hear you, speak, move or eat
But bones vibrate to soundwaves just the same.
Give my casket the best **** bass you can find.
Bass that will wake the dead.
Rattle me like an instrument the way you plucked strigs while we were alive
You have control over what i hear after I go
So you may play me music beautiful as we played in the space between our fingertips
Play spotify in my casket
Only you and those i trust have access to adding songs.
But don't add garbage music.
Because I swear, I will haunt you.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
Green was his favorite color.
He hated spinach.
It was funny, the face he made when he had to eat it if he wanted ice cream after dinner.
He loved Clifford the Big Red Dog.
He wanted a dog just like him.
He was a very sweet boy, one that everyone loved.
I loved him the most.
He was my son.
I stood over his casket and my tears dropped on his face.
I almost thought he would wipe them away for me, "Don't cry, mommy. I love you."
It wasn't his time.
He was 4.
You took him away from me.
I want him back.
Give him back to me.
Please?
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
Its unsettling silence
like an open casket closing for its last time.
(C.C)
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
(B)
Cacophony vocal cords turned inside out
Folding back upon themselves in cruel creases
Vibrations resonating in strained harmonies
Against the dire fabric of my delirious oblivion
(J)
I stomp your echoes as they travel through light
Unleashing my fangs to sting your roaring mess
Frequencies lowered from baseline to internal signal
To form a wave at the quilted patch you weaved
(B)
Disregard all visualized fear firmly penetrating realms
Of thickening white-hot spirit a roiling boiling crucible
Inflamed fiery fleshly folds of terminated temptations
Drawing your musky draught drinking your toxic brew
(J)
Your sight announces epiphanies of me sinking deeper
A manhood you portray is my repatriation, prepare the shovel
Ruin me I plead! Packet and send me down to my casket
You can't stitch me, I am twitching, itching, iced in sorrows
(B)
Clawing at the world, hissing, spitting my deep disdain
My every defense mumbling, crumbling into its derelict dust
Welcoming my inevitable defeat, my tattered, blood spattered
White flag flies, surrendering all to hail the conquering pain.
(J)
The flag waves in bloodied winds, you wing wading wounds
Trying to reach snowy mountainous top, the ascending sledge
We fall inverted bumping, exposing our cranium, posing in disgust
Hold this hawk talon scratch the earth, its the only hope you hold
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC