"deader" poems
I wake as your friend You wake as my lover
I speak as your lover You speak as my friend
I act as your possession You are my possesion
I rebel as your cover A means to an end
I hurt for your compassion You live for my acceptance
I injure for your respect Though it's never been withheld
I confide for your emotion You crave my direction
I give and you collect Never will you rebel
This is madness This is Sparta
This is insanity This is the price of exellence
I can't be everything for you I am your everything
You can't be everything for me I am magnificence
You treat everyone the same I am fair and righteous
As a friend, yet as a lover And yet you seek more
And it's a cruel, cruel game Dare you grow capricious
From your twisted love, no one recovers You'll become one I abhor
I am done You are confused
(I am never done) And I will not calm you
I am sick *As I am amused*
(But I'm not tired) As I drop little clues
I will run You'll never leave me
(I won't run) But I'll abandon you
Because I love you You'll always need me
(A better word is 'desire') And I'll never need you
Let me go! My grip is vice-like
(But you're not holding me) I'm not ready to let you go
Bring me back! If I lose you, 'my dear'
(But I never left) I must find yet another 'beau'
Love me only! And I've not the time to put effort
(But you love equally) In little minions like you
Push me away! I've not a care to give for
(Or bridge this rift) You insects I never knew
Please, disappear I am your torture
One day you'll understand But I am your salvation
That the twisted way you love I am your executioner
Could coax death from any human And I am your redemption
Please, disappear! You'll wish me dead forever
Though I'll weep when you're gone You'll wish me dead I know
I know sanity will return And you'll wish yourself deader
And I'll eventually move on. When away I finally go.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
it should be noted that girls don't always come from venus, that some boys might be a little deader than they were before they claimed you took their breath away.
some girls have barbed wire around their hearts, and others have white flags. some boys have touched more cigarettes than thighs, more blades in the bathroom sink than the ones in her shoulders. the city might whisper the name of one boy and tremble at the thought of another; a girl might have a hit list with only one name on it — her own. some boys will **** just to say they lost their virginity and some boys will spend the rest of their lives making love as though they could gain it back; some girls have lost their tears and sweat in the upholstery of the same car that might belong to one of these boys — and some of those same boys are sweaty handprints on the backseat windows while others are fingerprints on your throat, but no matter how you look at it, he will always leave his mark, won't he?
it should be noted that some girls will miss you like hiroshima playgrounds miss the laughter of young children, but others will miss you like an 11:30 flight at 11:31, and i bet you never knew that some boys will never tell you that they miss their father just as much as some girls calling everyone else 'daddy' except for the one they truly need; you'd never believe me if i said that some girls look at the night sky where they used to see their reelection in the stars, but now only see another broken mirror.
it should be noted, that not all boys are from mars.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
Through tears she screams her story
In love we find her hate
With shivers, she finds her warmth
She's skinny, but only sees weight
She's a fire that craves water
A sunbeam wanting rain
She doesn't like to be hurt
But enjoys all the pain
When quiet, she is her loudest
Alive, but feels so dead
In a crowd, she gets so lonely
Thinking words unsaid
Someone wake her up
She's been asleep too long
When will people notice
That there's clearly something wrong?
Her heart beats more slowly
As they still fail to see
That the more alive she is
The deader she wants to be
She lies her head down tonight
Closing her eyes so sore
Stop the restless nights
And sleep forever more
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
It should be noted that girls don't always come from Venus, that some boys might be a little deader than they were before they claimed you took their breath away. Some girls have barbed wire around their hearts, and others have white flags. Some boys have touched more cigarettes than thighs, more blades in the bathroom sink than the ones in her shoulders. The city might whisper the name of one boy and tremble at the thought of another; a girl have a hit list with only one name on it — her own. Some boys will **** just to say they lost their virginity and some boys will spend the rest of their lives making love as though they could gain it back; some girls have lost their tears and sweat in the upholstery of the same car that might belong to one of these boys — and some of those same boys are sweaty handprints on the backseat windows while others are fingerprints on your throat (no matter how you look at it, he will always leave his mark, won't he?)
It should be noted that some girls will miss you like Hiroshima playgrounds miss the laughter of young children, but others will miss you like an 11:30 flight at 11:31, and I bet you never knew that some boys will never tell you that they miss their father just as much as some girls calling everyone else Daddy except for the one they truly need; you'd never believe me if I said that some girls look at the night sky where they used to see their reelection in the stars, but now only see another broken mirror.
It should be noted, that not all boys are from Mars.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
i fall and ascend in a sea vantablack
spiral light
fire ghosts and ice
that cut the soul to pieces
like scissors
that split rabbits
industry of a hissing creation
polluted altar of sleeping lakes
and scythe
bludgeon and howitzer
prods of push and pull
in a grindhouse
necropolis of craters
scattering satanic eggs and tumors
i am here born to you thin of bone
mother of catastrophes
on a colossal ball of scab and callous
that moves sonorous dazzling shapes
careening through
ephemera workhorse torches
of doom
you fill me with knots of terror
and desperate dreams of stairway wings
veils and glimmers
resolutions dissolving
petaled apertures of desire
and night whispers
in a spider web of sonic bulls
before undertows gravity
i was vibrant
but then i died into the rock ash of earth
they called it my birthday
my parents with party hats and balloons
blinked fetters
against nights of granite and stone
i got deader still
until i was nothing
but an imagineless gob of mud and breath
an eye looking out
behind red nerve forest fires
and tears shook tambourines
down heavy lashes
cascaded fluttering tassels
i am born to you mother of senile seas
citadel of shattered glass
in a slate cube of cyclones
mute and screaming
my fate deep shock
encased in mausoleums led nautilus
blatting hells jaundiced shriek
Pluto conjunct Saturn
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
whatever. i'm so clever. yeah. whatever. i can break the lame guys in when they give last rites. the deader the better the girls sigh. open up to new norms. electric rules the old worms. fortune anorexic wonder. blonder, longer, simpler, subtler. partial to the flower you think and forever after ....
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
Stack the bodies higher
Stack them for the empire
People want more cash
So they sell harmful weapons
They don't mind the ash
Made of victims of aggression
Like collateral children in Yemen
Who are needlessly sent to heaven
Or the schoolchildren in Florida
Who had to go face the coroner
These children only know what we teach them
So how come the only things that can reach them
Are our weapons
And deadly directions?
Because of lobbyists like the NRA
Using logic from the seventh grade
To create a coalition of those who believe what they're told
And those unwilling to change because they're too old
And adults who desperately want their toys
Even if it means the death of little boys
So the bodies continue to stack to the sky
For people who dream of killing black guys
Black in the sense that they don't know who they are
They just want to feel hard
Stuck in a childish fantasy of protecting their home
Or a petulant fear of the unknown
Their economic gain
Causes ballistic pain
Inside their bullet rain
Innocence circles the drain
But we must make decisions together
Even with the emotionally severed
In order to make our society better
Until then our children get deader
They use uncertainty to buy time
And convince the masses
That the real problem is crime
To create rhetoric molasses
Because they make a living
From us dying
They don't mind bullet giving
Until we're lying
Six feet under
The guns sound like thunder
Warning of an approaching lightning storm
Where the rain drops stab us to our core
Then mix with the blood on the floor
Until civilization is no more
I hear loud guns
Then I hear church bells
I walk in the sun
But the foul dirt smells
Of the corpses of countless kids
Representing high contract bids
And the tears of their mothers
That are swept under the covers
By those with no empathy
That cause only entropy
Then they expect to live near us
A gun will make them hear us
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
there's a color in my heart that cannot be created
using pastels or pencils
it could never be painted
darker than black
more angry than red
much brighter than white could aspire to have been
more alive than green
but deader than grey
like purple but harder to wash it away
blue with more hurting
brown but more *****
orange with much stronger emotions there burning
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:06 PM UTC
There is no more straddling state lines for you.
You are no longer teetering on the edge of
life and death
because you are now deader than my father’s
dead bell heart. You are laying in a morgue and
I am sitting on a train, miles and miles from you. An
early bloomer, a preemie baby boy, you are
one day too soon.
I am watching the trees of Arkansas of Missouri of Illinois
pass me by, but you are being
whisked
and
twirled
and
whirled
through the stars.
(I am trying to imagine what it must feel like to
explode into a supernova, to
implode into a constellation.
I am trying to contemplate what it means to
reach
i n f i n i t y
and
n i h i l i t y
at the same time.)
Careening headfirst towards the midwest, I
am heading towards a home I no longer wish to go. I have
spent my night in a daze between
asleep and awake,
listening to a man snore and a baby cry, and nothing is stopping
me from thinking about the steps in post-mortem care. I have
seen dead bodies before. I have touched dead bodies before.
I do not want to come in contact with yours.
My problem is not that you finally finished your
transition from boy to skeleton,
my problem is that you did so without
asking your mother’s permission. I read the
Book of James the night before your surgery two years ago
and forgot it the very next day. There is nothing I want more
than to swim laps and crochet scarves and write bad poems and
become void of all the information that I currently hold.
I want to forget that I knew you.
I want to forget that I thought I loved you.
I want to forget my attachment to you so it won’t
hurt as bad now that you’re
( d e a d ) .
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
I was always told to stay away from the street
Keep myself protected, redirecting my feet
The traffic rushing past would **** me deader than dead,
that's what the old folks said
But little did I know that by avoiding the cars
I wandered in the path of something badder by far
Keeping to the fences and the gardens to play
That made me easy prey
*For the houses, on the prowl
The houses, on the prowl
The windows, are a hungry scowl
And the doors are jaws to swallow you down*
Ever seen a picture of a venus-trapped fly?
Happy as a clam as if it's ready to die
Sucker for the honey never knowing it's bait
Until it's far too late
Well comfort and protection are what houses pretend
A welcome sanctuary and a fabulous friend
We lavish love upon them like they're part of ourselves
Until there's nothing else
*But the houses, on the prowl
The houses, on the prowl
The windows, are a hungry scowl
And the doors are jaws to swallow you down*
People at the window, haunted and confused
Something's got them prisoner, and it'll never let them loose
I know that you will think it's just a travellers' tale
Like Jonah or Gepetto in the guts of a whale
But they were brought salvation from the soul of the sea
And that's never come to me
Helplessly protesting at the ribs of the room
Quietly digesting in a wallpaper tomb
It's hard and getting harder to get out of the door
And the world don't care no more.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 2:48 PM UTC
I believe her to be insane
because she's listing her requirements
and I've managed to meet most of them,
but I'm still her Windex-ed glass window
I believe her to be insane
because she claimed she was jocking me
though she'd only met my voice
and lived near my Cali family
I believe her to be insane
because she liked me when she annoyed me
and was quick to end the years
after I said she was skinny
I believe her to be insane
because she could be straight up with everyone,
but whenever it came around to us
her mouth remained completely shut
I believe her to be insane
because I was more natural than her ex
Then suddenly she became work-obsessed,
but found time to marry the ex
I believe her to be insane
because she ******* up her life to get my attention
She was always beautiful, but deader inside
Another stereotypical trailer park girl
I believe her to be insane
because she searched the mall parking lot
to leave a bocay of daises
on the windshield of my car
I believe her to be insane
because she sang "Before You Walk Out of My Life"
more beautifully than Monica herself
exclusively to me late at night
I believe her to be insane
because she walked miles to see me at work
with bruised, sore, raw feet
to be somewhere safe away from him
I believe her to be insane
because she let me go in a heartbeat,
then she pleaded for my forgiveness,
then she let me go in another heartbeat
I believe her to be insane
because our poetry complimented perfectly,
but I wasn't the one she pictured
because of not being the desired ethnicity
I believe her to be insane
because she cherished me so much,
poetically revealed me to be the catch,
but she's the one that lost touch
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
Now days, they were better, I slept even deader
I woke up when everyone left
Didn’t feel a touch, not for over a year
From anyone outside of my own head
Please let me know if this is even a life
Is it something else?
Dying just a little let’s meet in the future
Or maybe you won’t, I’m boring you don’t
I’m sad you’re magical, he think’s your beautiful
I think you’re beautiful too
Get up, get out, be social
I really had to force myself to go
Come on, get up, because it’ll be alright
My veins pump with adrenaline
When I talk to the ones I admire
It might be someone older
Someone about to leave
Now would you stay, right here?
Your velocity is too high and I can’t keep up
I don’t know you too well, and we don’t have much time
I want to hang around, I make an awful sound, some eyeliner lines on the shade
I don’t care for your mistakes, or the capsules you ate
We all have a problem, that’s why we’re here
We all want to smite the negative parasites and ignite the frozen hearts
You’re not perfect, and neither am I
So I’d like to get to know you, before I have to say goodbye
This school is no longer black and white
Why? Because you’re all colorful
Way more colorful than the kids who has a drunk problem purely because it looks cool
You’re singing it for the deaf, dancing for the blind
And even though they can’t interpret it they can feel it
You act for the depressed, you play for the addict
You make them forget what problems that have
Now in a month, you’ll leave us, like a phantom in the summer
But before you go, I’d like to meet you
It’s weird to say this, but I’d really like to
I’m weird, you should know that by now
We are the kids from yesterday
I know you can’t stay, so I have one thing left to say
I’d really like to meet you, and even though you can’t stay
Right here, right now, in this bonus stage
I respect you, I desire you, I’d like to meet you. Why? Because every snowflake is different, just like you.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC
Panic attacks are like deathless suicides
****
You're deader than a dead man because unnatural fasts
unnatural- fasts
solipsist dizz-
solipsist sip, mizz?
burn the boardwalk and walk the beach *** all of a sudden
life is too short to fuckit, later.
everything has to slither out like Satanic snakes offering the half-bitten apple
to Adam *** he got the other bit stuck in his Adams Apple and suddenly lost his voice,
** ** take that, prophecies of God!
Too tired to be the metaphysical rebel licking the slug slime off your toes as if you deserve the luxury,
smile again and I'll call you the prettiest pervert to ever strip down to your socks.
this is what a broad mind is,
I write this assuming weirder thoughts have flickered in your ******* lightbulb.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
As trite and gray as words
become with time, my heart
becomes an ashen leaf
in fall; or kitschy art;
or something even deader,
as old coals, so far abstract
from life that words should give
them meaning; In fact,
that I might be troubled
to convey this worthless stuff,
I find the lackingness of language
barely dead enough.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 5:21 PM UTC
Fill your lungs with air, they say
These black fireworks are getting closer
Crawl around, it's fun, they say
The slower I move, the deader the knot gets
You're dizzy, shadowed, they say
Apple after apple, only glowing poison
You'll see, you'll see
You'll want to someday
But all I want is out.
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 5:40 PM UTC
el sol va tocar la lluna i amb els ulls brillants que compartien una
paradoxa amor, es va convertir en el seu conjunt
es va torçar en una essència sota els llençols de les tenebres al
nostre espai infinit
the world whispered the simple phrase into my ample
body, frigid in the sense mentally and physically
I cant get enough of this new comer
I feel the verses in my poetry have became
more real when words are enveloped in
a character of no moral restraints
I am more real now, I feel full
yet my emptiness is there on the side
I need that, and its understood - every human does
wholesome
grateful
the living dead are fully
alive now, and I have let
the deader parts of me fade away
with the turning of time
I have a new sheet of skin upon my body
I have new eyes peering at the world
with the stare of a pale ****** who has
yet to be touched by the sun
just coming out of my mothers womb
you see
I am born again
I breathe for the first time
and I love genuinely
I throw my arms in the sky
and I bathe myself in the wind
of this foreigner whom soon
I will give my body to
and you will grow along me
the clouds move above me like a
euphoric dream of melodies
and I feel the rush of the universe
come down on me like a huge raindrop
and I am cleansed
and I am free
and I am love
the smell of wet wood in the park
suffocates me with its natural joy
and I lay on the grass and peer
into the lakes of life and
the mysteries they hold, I cannot
wait to find out the riddles
and listen to the new rhymes to come
welcome new year
Jan 3, 2011
Jan 3, 2011 at 11:16 AM UTC
It’s not like it matters,
No one will think twice.
These disposable efforts mean so much to us,
And, at times, we cherish them too.
Though the higher you climb,
The worse off most are,
For the toll, is indeed, a high one.
It’s not that you’ll fall,
(Though soon, you may welcome that),
But near what’s rumored to be the top,
You’ll find, you’re often alone.
So finding an average,
A cool medium,
Has become all but uncommon,
But even so, what’s to come,
Of those few who actually challenge the gods?
For what sort of blessings do lay still?
Far is it from Dubiety,
Though equally close,
We expect too much, and leave room for displeasure.
We bring it upon ourselves.
Then I had a thought, why the way of humans?
But why not the way of all life permitting?
How not someone revered could leave life unnoticed,
Yet someone exalted should be saved,
Truly leaves long trenches in the pit of my stomach,
Due to lacking a notion of why;
Why it is we strive so hard; And if for immortality,
Then for what sake and by who are we granted this perquisite?
What Blessings were laid on the lives of those,
Whose memory would outlast the Earth,
Really made worth of a mortal’s own time,
More so then any such swings of the hands?
For what even is our own worth?
As when his eyes fail to save him,
Upon what would that broken man fall?
Naught but more than his own disparity,
Wedged between black reality and his own thoughts.
Forlorn, despairing, and void of all sense,
He collapses, deader than dead.
I shudder to dismiss this, (or any) conflict,
Away as I would a cobweb;
But he who detects the flaws of himself
Before do his enemies,
Will end up much stronger than those opposed,
As he already severed his soul.
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 8:01 AM UTC
Late nights seep into me like the silence that screams from the sky.
Drenched in questions, I wish to be dried in the answers,
But there’s never enough shelter from the rain.
The deader the heart, the louder the beating.
The ringing in my ears, the sounds of what it was to be alive,
Resonates through the chaos in my wake.
Wings spread, black feathers reaching one hundred feet high,
The ground echoes my name and feeds upon its nightmares.
I see the rage in the grey face of my past.
The demon looks at me with hollowed black eyes.
His focus is on me, the razors mounted, the venom poised.
The start of the end is here.
The wall that surrounds me is now a broken dam.
The blood and blackness stick to me like molten glass.
The screams from my truth is heard worlds away, the pain now past words.
The fire raining from the demon’s mouth scalds away my skin,
Bleaches my bones and buries my soul.
There’s nothing left.
The demon now sits aloft over his dynasty.
Alone and smiling.
Victory is his – he has won.
I am no more
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
I'm constantly checking Snapchat and Instagram, and instantly decoding your posts like a cryptogram. In a millisecond my brain goes from using a gig of ram, to oozing out ten petabytes, like God ****
It won't slow down and I'm trying to stay chill, so I gotta down another bottle of pills. This also helps with the hunger that I'm trying to fill, going from starved, to full, to just feeling ill.
Nauseating dizzying feeling and I'm flustered, populating my stomach with crackers dipped in mustard, I don't like food, but I've started to wonder why my ribs hurt, might be the undying hunger.
I can't pull my eyes away from it as I slit upon my thighs and think of a beautiful ***** I'll never get, so I get lost in distractions to forget her. I've come to accept that this is the truth as I accept the cold and give her my sweater. Attempted controlled suicide at a park plus the letter. If she goes in for anything then I guess I will let her. But every time she touches me it lights a fuse that only activates when she's not around, only clutches me closely when there's nobody else in the vicinity inbound making me feel deader.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC
I want you to understand
every strand of hair on my body is in pain
my blood is a knife
flowing through me
secretly whispering your name to my skin
and my skin burns and falls like ash
my sheets are stained with the deader parts of me
my body lays on the bed
and in the dark hallway
I am peering into the room
watching the love rot away
and decay
the moon burries itself into the sun
and I bury myself into everything I cant reach
and I sink so
so
deep
will you create those little things
when you look back and think of all the memories
like a picture
old snap shot
tattered edges
wearing all white I hold my breathe
next to the massive body of water
Im made out of salt
and I melt on the lips of the winds
the humidity is staining my fingertips
and Im closing my eyes immersing in the
dysphoria of all of this
finally
posture comes to my bended bones
when I realize I am a waterfall
stuck in the drawer of an old mahogany vinaty set
laying somewhere in a abandoned house years
and ages away
miles and miles far remote from this place
I stare in haste
I collaborate with the atoms around me
the molecules that form my wasted id
Im a child, my hands are still small
but they are rough
Im at the park, its the closest I can get to my seed
the dirt that I am made out of
cause nothing here is natural anymore
take me away please
somewhere where I can walk on history
not in a land were the worst genocide took place
an annihlation that was dressed in a costume
oh no it was a cleansing
I rather walk on gravel
broken roads
then on fresh paved streets
I rather live in the forest
than in this so called democracy
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC
So pleasant was the weather
a summer spent together
she's booby-trapped with pleasure
sensations in great measure
To you, she was a treasure
but today there's nothing deader
than the tingles in your head or
the fantasy to wed her.
Tell me of her touch
like earthquakes in foreign lands
that you can feel between
your legs
like ocean water churning, churning
falling upon you when you're burning
from a sky so vast, it seems
that your dreams are pauper's dreams
She's like that same sky in the night
so dark... so bright
your eyes are alight
with infinity in sight
and you take a bite
of her honey cream thighs
you feel alone
and then she sighs
and you are responsible
it's like some living math
you plus her
in a bubbling bath
equals roiling memories
that cage as much as free,
freeze as much as warm.
What choice do we have?
Life is a choice of slave masters...
Be enslaved by love,
or dominated by hate:
either way, there's pain.
Either way, there's a rain so fierce
all the world is swept away,
but you and she, she and you,
you can never be erased,
for you are not earth and tree;
you are not river and rock;
you are spirit:
a thing proved unconquerable by death.
So, after life, when there is time to linger,
think upon the touch that tingles.
Heaven waits for all men,
each woman a
piece of
it.
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
And to me you were a flower that I wanted to press between the pages of my heart
So that I could keep you forever and so your memory would not be too far away
Yet each time I opened up to find you, you became more delicate and deader than the moment I plucked you
It horrified me to know I was that sort of person to ruin something so alive
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
I read with passing interest
The death of the
Field Marshal’s son--
Manfred Rommel--
Gone at 84.
His father—The Field Marshal,
Had been given a choice:
Commit suicide or
Face a rigged trial
Charged with conspiring to ****
******
If he chose the trial, they said,
They could not promise
That his family would be
SAFE.
The father,
Der Feldmarschall,
Bit into a cyanide pill
And died quickly.
It was Oct. 14, 1944.
Thanks to the sacrifice,
Manfred got to grow up to be
A three-term mayor of Stuttgart,
Where Daimler-Benz makes cars.
Manfred Rommel:
A postwar liberal Deutschland voice,
Supporting immigrants and Jews.
At 84,
Deader than
A dreadnaught.
Makes you wonder?
A fate worst--wurst--
Something worse than
Death?
Really the moment of truth
For any honorable man,
Self-defined by nature,
Molded by nurture.
Family:
The fountain & source
The tribe you belong to.
Family: everything you are
When you get right down to
Where one’s loyalties
Supposedly lie.
Of course, you opt for suicide.
Wouldn’t anyone?
We are born into a net.
We must bravely defend the network.
Facing insurmountable odds,
Our duty is to hold on
Without hope, without rescue,
Like that Roman centurion
Whose bones,
Later excavated at that front door in Pompeii,
Steadfast & true,
That Roman soldier--
Vesuvius exploding,
A hard rain falling down upon him--
Died at his post because
They forgot to relieve him.
That is duty.
That is greatness.
That is thoroughbred pedigree.
An honorable end:
The one thing that
Cannot be taken from a man.
Unless, of course,
The times they are Orwellian,
And once again,
This time with feeling:
*“Do it to Julia.
Do it to Julia!”*
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC