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SE Reimer Sep 2016
a tribute

~

memories...
in fading sepia we find,
the romance of
another time;
albums filled
with black and white,
of glossy faces
burnt in fading light;
boxes of our ko-dak-chro-ments,
gone-by treasures,
once-upon-a-moments;
wistful years once crystal clear,
mem’ries drowned in haze,
resurface now,
renewed in tears,
...as we remember well.

memories...
the yellow ribbons tied,
’round an ol’ oak tree;
anxious waiting to make an “us”,
the anticipation of a “he and me”;
until the news from distant shore,
yet another casualty of war,
and now remains but this,
a marble slab inscribed,
in accolades of former glory,
merely remnants ’midst the pines;
on forest lawn where promises,
tween two for’er became untwined,
...as she remembers well.

memories...
so many are the ways
the mem’ry onward lives
even this, a,
“do this in...” request
restores a covenant anew
a "remembrance of..."
the “we” here left behind,
be it in the bread we break,
this forever to remind,
a sacrosanct entreaty made,
promise sealed as blood in wine,
reserving not for deities alone,
but given us immortal souls,
to us a gift at birth,
of staggering import,
responsibility of heavy worth;
of after-ashes keeping still,
an ever-after captured with
the shutter, brush and quill,
...so we remember well.

memories...
its keeping cherished lovingly
though its loss,
its diminishment bereaved;
as lovers silent grieve,
those lost to us yet breathe,
in memories ’midst the breeze.
forgetful of the slightest
until one day in finality
their mortal soul is set free
into immortality.
...to for’er remember.

memories...
to us, a call, a charge,
a “ne’er forget”
a duty large
a “do this in
remembrance of”
this our promise
to e’er remember,
always keep;
forgetting never,
to carry the flame,
while we yet live
in sunshine’s grip;
an oath is sworn,
that forever we,
shall always ready be,
for in remembering best,
the tears flow easily,
and so it isn't pity,
of a loss i seek,
no,
for ’tis in finding memory
that i shall always weep,
...as i remember well.

~

post script.

of love lost in the haze of war; of lives changing motion, a baby is born, as a grandmother moves into memory care... a cycle of life, brought full circle best in remembrance.  and this makes remembering perhaps the most important facet that defines, sets us apart as humans, best captured in this thought, "in forgetting the past we cease to be and bring hope forward for the future. and so we remember... for we must never forget!” and so we line our shelves, our walls with them, visiting inscribed stones behind fences.  

dedicated today to our memories each of loved ones, lovers lost; but on this dark eve, especially those who lost those souls, three thousand strong, a darkest day of remembrance, this September the eleventh, who never got to say goodbye... so we remember well!
Ken Pepiton Apr 2019
Sons of Belial and sons of

whatever is riding the wave of re
ality crosswise carrying
other kinds of whats
so ever
in an umph-epiphanny-trypac,
while balanced on the very
edge
of eternity, sharper than any twoedged everthought,

twixt soul and spirit,
is never
more confusing than now.

whe-
never was, a long, long, doppletop,
oweroath, a cutcoven (blood'n'all)

mental, mental, nothing is real, it's
a project

some kinds of ideas are working in re
ality,
like sci-fi, back in Hubbard's day,

crazy is owned by Patsy, in my mind
and I was not sixteen,

not like you thought. K'oughtcha.
I was fifteen

Historical ideas come in sub
kinds. That's new. Wow works here as a word
denoting proper awe,

that's good, after wattwe done t' awesome 'n' awful.

======
Time kinds of ideas differ in classes and speeds.

======
Balancing and Valencing equivalency ideas,
at the core are gravitational
deter
meaning ful syn chro no ifity ness, aside.
did that make sense?
it might.

might not.

sensibility evaluation, aha. It's here in this set
of kinds of
ideas we all thought possible.
Boo Yah'll 'n'all that..

=====
That peace past standing up under knowing
good and evil and allaboth atthat,
that
peace past real under standing, that

True rest, trust me. Winning right is worth

the effort to play the game. But I learned too late.

======
loser ideas, innumb-mersable fixet functions, not
ideas at at all, states inwaiting attributable

to the whole one feels not part of, a wheel in
the blind
watchamacallit maker's shoppe o'kurios 'n' kachinas

wheels in wheels in belts and straps and beams and nails
and stones
and chisels...

this could be the grave, we can see
it's empty.
Where's my body gone? Aha. Y'know, y'know it's about

time is all. No lie lives forever. Yet
any word once yoost to lying
may be deemed phor
worthy of all we agree to let be in it.

--- flash--- we had eight in a 55 vw, to sneak into the drive
in, drunk on somebodies seventeenth birthedays---

We interupt this broadcasting process from time to time

to stock new seedy ideas, re
deemed worth repeating,
doubletap oath idea from old sicilian proverb untwisted.

Score. Sorry, I thought. You were reading. If you got this far,
you call the winner. But the score remains
a hist oracle idea of a very old kind.

The metagame was won in time.
What eversprings t'mind and I remember promising never to forget....
longest time in a ste of draft since I first appeared here, upon a time
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2018
i hope that i can speak
with the sort anonymity that
will stress the fact that:
the past 20+ of being awake
will not undermine
using alcohol,
  naproxen 500mg and
25mg amitriptyline
...
            funny:
to have studied chemistry
and to subsequently "study"
a sociology science...
              on the basis
of experiment...
          or rather:
  to have crafted one's own
cocktail...
               because
the guy who conjured up
a cosmopolitan really
gave a ****?
                   hey...
it was nice listening
to the theory,
but chronic insomnia is
one thing,
and treating it is another,
the side-effects do not really
matter if you actually
manage to nook for ~13 hours
and stay awake for the next
20+...
       i have to re-iterate:
                  chro-nic: insomnia:
the kind where you don't
actually care about dreaming,
the type where you
actually care for a pristine
interlude of sleep;
believe me when i say to you
that there's no
Freudian geometry inolved,
hyper-induced *******
sleep....
          just the blackness of
a void:
a disembodiment
worth a voice: but no body.

— The End —