You know when you are growing up

The stages you go through

Make you the way you are

They help to make you...YOU

The people who you deal with

Whether family or your friends

Are very influential

And they're with you 'till the end

But little things they tell you

Might  get on your last nerve

You know you sometimes hate them

And it's not something they deserve

I miss my Grandad fiercely

Now, more than before

I wish I'd listened closely

And I wish I'd listened more

You know the tales that old folks tell

The one's we love to hate

Like "you've not got it hard boy"

"You've got it ****** great"

We all know about the walk to school

The uphill walk both ways

About how they only had an orange

And it had to last four days

You know they meant the best for you

But, that's not how it came off

You'd love to go and visit

But, you also loved to scoff

Times were always harder then

You never knew what you had

At least that was the feeling

That I got from my Grandad

They all got married younger

They were stronger in their minds

We were lazy, non-commital

To hard work, we were blind

So, every time a visit

Came around, I'd ask to stay

I'd rather be at home alone

Than with Grandad for the day

But, one day changed my feelings

I learned what Grandad was about

When I went there for a visit

And my Grandad took me out

We went out for a road trip

That my parents did allow

And that road trip still stays with me

My eyes were opened....wow!

He knew I would have rather

Stayed at home and not been there

But, I went out for my parents

And he knew I didn't care

First he took me to a building

"I'm just here to quaff a brew

And while I'm sitting with my cronies

There's something you must do."

I didn't know it was a legion

And he handed me a book

He said this was a memoriam

And that I should have a look

Each face I saw stare back at me

Had died before their time

They went to fight for freedom

Not just theirs, but yours and mine

Mere children when you think back now

And how they went to war

They would forever be this young

And would not age forever more

Grandad said, "We're going"

"We have another stop"

And it was at this destination

That the other penny dropped

He took me to a statue

In the park, so resilute

It was stone and bronze and copper

And my Grandad did salute

The cenotaph he called it

I'd not heard that name before

He said it was a monument

To those who'd gone before

The names and the young faces

That I'd seen that afternoon

Were honored by this edifice

That stood like a Roman Ruin

"Each town" he said gave their young men

To make sure  Freedom reigned

"And each Legion has a book like ours

So we don't forget their names"

I stepped back from the statue

that honored our towns dead

He said, "do not salute"

"you can stand and bow your head"

That day, My Grandad reached out

And he made me understand

All those things he'd told me

And what it takes to be a man

Now, years have passed and he is gone

I miss him every day

"We walked up hill both ways to school"

I'd love to hear him say

Forty years have come and gone

Now, I'm a Grandad too

I've two grandkids I'd love to see

And, I hope they'd love to see me too

But, just like me when I was young

They want to live their life

They'd rather spend time with their friends

Than with their Grandad and his wife.

My son dropped by the other day

And the kids came to say hi

I'd love to see them more than this

And that's the reason why

I loaded up the car with them

"I' won't be long my dear"

"We're just off for a short road trip "

"Just to go and have a beer"

She smiled, she knew the reason

And I know that she is glad

For I want them to be proud of me

Like I was, my Old Grandad.

Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation

If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation

An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation

Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes

The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent  mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes

Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time

Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.

Those eyes of green
An old man's rheumy eyes
Awash with memories and salty tears.
And sharp eyes of green
That scan the distant skies
To capture shades from down the distant years.
Hardened eyes of green
Which cut with crystal sharp
The foolish prattle of that errant boy.
Weeping eyes of green
That witnessed cadenced harp
Consort with tone and brilliant colour's joy
Aging eyes of green
Now wilt with evening light
To not regret the fade of dying time.
Eyes of green recall
Her beauty's luscious sight
To life's commital of her hand in thine.
Proud eyes of green
Recall his baby's cry
The swaddled infant holding up her hand.
Tired eyes of green
Now closed his lids to die
To wander to his chosen plot of land.

Marshalg
For Grandpa
24 March 2013

To the hearts that I broke,
you don't know how lucky you were.

It hurt,
oh it hurt when I said I didn't love you. When I 
threw you on the ground like a thousand 
China plates.

You thought you'd never heal but she picked you up 
and glued you together 
with gold. 

She filled your cracks and now even though they know
you've been broken, 
you're better now.

And I would have filled your cracks with candy,
so you could have shown the world your colors while you
wasted away 
in 
a 
waterfall of my saliva,
alive with non commital kisses.

You just don't know how lucky you were.

50%  of marriage is made out of silence.
Sometimes it's too quiet to notice, though.
And we become so used to it
That any sign of my spouses voice almost offends me.
And I love you too much to let you know what I'm thinking.
You ask me countless times,
Like clockwork, "What are you thinking?"
And just as consistantly I answer without giving you a hint.
"I was thinking that I love you."
Begging you to continue the silence.
I forget the reason why it became so **** quiet...
All I know is that it's better this way.
And when we're infront of our friends and family
We silently agree to act as if we were still best friends...
As if we knew every secret and more.
Then we return home and close the door
And turn each other on mute.
Like phatoms chained to a ball of non commital noise.
Sometimes I think my ,"I do" was the last honest thing I said to you.

My mind feels sick
Filled to the brim with self sabatoge
And a non-commital attitude.

Tears right on the edge
Of running down my cheek
And I say "running"
Because even they want to get away from me.

Then there's that exhaustion again
A sour feeling on my temples
And sore eyes from looking in the mirror.

Asking the big questions
I get nowhere
Will I ever find the answer
To why I can't let myself be happy?

she sits, across from me
******* the loose threads
of her genes

they are attatched to the fraying of her mind
this, it girl
who is
falling apart, before us all
an honours student,
stumbling quickly down from grace....

silence, is her cloak...
these day....
and in this desperate,
wanting,
of invisablity.
her distress cries loud enough
for all ....to watch...

tears,
fall and track,
silently down her face,
as we quest for the canker...

reponses,
monosyllabic
and non commital...
issue forth....
defiance...
her weapon of choice....

we can,
but, reiterate,
our duty of care...
and hope....
that when she falls....
it is within earshot
of one who gives a ****....

she leaves....
no more intact...
than when she entered.... and hitches,
her ragged psyche
and theadbare jeans
up over
those slim, woman-girl hips.
...as she walks, out of
my office door.

I tried to not take us
so seriously because
in the wake of a long
stream of non-commital
commitments, I've
begun to understand
how intense I become
when someone matters
to me on a personal level,
that's why I left you alone
when I found out about Marla
and Darla and Carla and all
of the Lala's that you ******
and then you decided to be
different for a day (let's be honest.
more like five minutes tops)
and you found yourself
with the proud and loud
feminist, Mandie with an
i-e in your bed and I keep
telling myself, it's not the
feminists fault that she likes
men. This man. My man.
And so I decided un-invite you
to the party I'll be throwing
for you in honor of you
being accepted into so and so
acting program in the city.
I'll drink everything they
bring for you, **** everyone
that only loves you. I'll
leave your car beneath
some distant bridge,
**** your boss and
and take me a little more.
It's not your fault I didn't
take us seriously.
It's not your fault
the feminist liked
you more than me.

I used to call Tim Ben
until I heard his
ex call him as such
with a light trill in her
voice, he never told me
it was serious. He said
that it was this thing
and I figured that it was
just like this thing
that we're having now.
This whole, non-commital  
I'll call you when I call
you if I call you thing.
But then I heard her
voice singing his
real real very real
name and I'm
looking at him and wishing
that I could rip out his
lip ring and call him Ben.