"gurney" poems
I've dreamed of Irreplaceable
when the light is strong,
hoping when the blackout turns
I'd sleep on something else.
I need to escape my senses
and experience different sensations,
instead of water running through my fingertips
but acid in my veins;
Not soft dancing grass and flowers
or trees that cool me down,
but rocks and boulders who sharpen
and strip me of my flesh.
Seems like I'm on ADD
can't help but move around so much,
strap me down to the gurney
and tear open my painful chest.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
If the perfect
last end of
the wrong thing
before and after
the last could be
molded faster
than a fastener
then why not
return to the gurney
and be wheeled about
on a short-term journey
through the keyhole?
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then
I try to think harder though, where have those memories been?
More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass
I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last.
Not in a sad time, not stuck in a place of hurt.
I just feel like I can't remember the good times to weigh the worth.
These new times, are something hollow, empty and void of feeling
No sleepless nights, but I find my self always staring towards the ceiling
So revealing, makes me notice my true emotions deep inside
Always telling jokes and laughing but right now we rewind.
I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then
I try to think harder though, where have those memories been?
More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass
I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last.
People say memories fade, others say memories last
I'd like to think that I could leave memories in the past
I don't want to cling to them like that's the only thing I have
But is it really bad? I guess you can say I'm home sick
Not missing my residence but missing where I've been
Reminiscing about the things that I have left on my journey
But they're not on their deathbeds, they're just on a gurney
Now do I save them, make sure that they are never forgotten?
If they start to fade for new memories should I stop them?
I feel like I need to answer quick, like I'm running out of time
I could keep stressing but right now, we rewind.
I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then
I try to think harder though, where have those memories been?
More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass
I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last.
I miss the days where I didn't have to miss my days
Where I could express myself in different ways
But this is today. Prattling words to my self
Not sharing my feelings, not sharing the wealth
I vent in stealth, not letting all the friends of me hear it
As if I'm ashamed, like I think my enemy is my spirit
You're hearing me in these lyrics, I'm embodied in the words you see
This is me in these lyrics, feelings and words, you see?
So if you're feeling my words, that means you're feeling me
So if you think that I'm a clown, this is the realest me
So this is real you see, no false words from the mind
I could keep on going but right now, we rewind.
I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then
I try to think harder though, where have those memories been?
More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass
I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last.
Where does the time go? I feel it slipping by me
I feel like my biggest problem now is I keep rewinding
So you may find me, reminiscing about the time before
Or catch me on a good day and I'll be rhyming more
Keeping myself in good spirits, while I find the path
Watching my life just add up, because well, life is math
Memories fade, because we subtract those things from the past
But it only happens to us, because we have something to add
So nothing is bad. Memory? I'll live all the good times with it in me
How much space do I have for the good times? Infinity.
No more time to rewind, I guess I have nothing left to say.
I guess the only thing left to do now is. Press Play.
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 11:07 AM UTC
They've been working on this for years
Inside the government
To try a replace the brain of man
With that of a purple eggplant
This idea to me sounds genius
If you know what it is that I mean
People round here might start making sense
Pass the veggies if you please
They called all the top notched scientists
And vegetarians throughout the land
To see what would be the best variety
In this eggplant transplant experiment
They settled on the aubergine
Great Brittan's joy and pride
When it comes to the perfect eggplant
Those Limey's will not be denied
They were afraid if they went to the private sector
That person would surely be missed
So they grabbed someone unsuspecting
Inside of the government
They told the low level employee
A bit of truth mixed with a little white lie
They needed him for his vast understanding and knowledge
Plus they'd be serving cookies on the side
They added a little something to the cookie dough
That knocked the governmental genius to his knees
Plopped him down on the gurney
...Let the experiment proceed if you please
They cracked his skull wide open
Where upon they couldn't believe their eyes
Right there inside of his cranium
Already an eggplant did reside
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
The weather plots his journey
Town to town in dead of night
Fields dead and on a gurney
He comes in to make it right
A rainmaker, people call him
A psuedo-scammer others say
He sells himself as godlike
He comes quick and does not stay
He tells people what they wish for
He beats the storm in to their town
He seeds their minds with his tall stories
He promises more green than brown
Like an evangelistic angel
He beats the weather to the ground
He's a salesman like no other
He picks their pockets with no sound
A rainmaker, just a scammer
He works the towns where nothing lives
He is an alchemist non-gratta
He always takes and never gives
He sells snake oil and concoctions
He is a shaman in disguise
He promises rain where none has fallen
There is more moisture in the farmers eyes
He takes credit for a rainfall
He promises gold where once was straw
He's a rumplestiltskin with their feelings
He sells them only what they wish they saw
He may believe in what he tells them
He always puts his name out on a stake
But, can he truly make the skies open
That is a choice the desperate make
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
The staff was shocked. I being the
Only patient to ever do yoga stretches
Afterward on the gurney,
My recovery time was cut in half.
Now to deal with this pain!
Writing my Meditation . . .
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
An ad in the LA Times
Pictured a jewelry store in Beverly Hills
Somewhere off Wilshire
A golden band modeled after an Egyptian original
Mother wanted it and so we went
We sat on tuffets of crushed velvet and
She bought it
replacing her wedding band
Which I never did find.
It was pretty but
what other significance this meant
regarding her husband she did not tell
She was struck walking on an off-ramp
on the 10.
Heading east?
How did she get there?
I asked her in the hospital
On the gurney she shook her head
And said she didn’t know.
That’s Alzheimer’s for you.
The ring is gone.
Father took his off well before she passed
and left it on the top of his dresser.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
I painted you.
With trembling, amateur precision,
I suffered each line on your face.
Each fleck of sun,
Your candid smile,
Your immediate beauty in the foreground
Of an exceptional ocean.
Stumbling blindly through the days,
Fumbling for the switch
In a punch-drunk, love-sick afternoon.
Apart from you,
Stripped, exposed,
Laid prone on the gurney
With my skull in a vice
And a fist to my stomach.
I can barely stand because of you.
I painted you this afternoon
So I could toil in your gaze.
Pray I am an interesting splatter,
A noticeable blight;
A happy accident on your page.
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 4:33 AM UTC
“I’ll see you later.” My Father said as they wheeled him off on the gurney.
“Good Luck, Pops.” my heart in my throat, as he went on his last journey.
He left us in that hot July, when the heat waves’ course had run.
I wandered in shock and disbelief like a world without a Sun.
For a long time after Pops had passed I struggled with depression.
Life went on for others; at least that was my impression.
Yet even in my darkest night I had my memories.
Sometimes, in the deepest sleep, Pops would return to me.
In his deep rich Irish Brogue he’d speak from beyond the vale.
My Memories of unconditional Love can never fade or pale.
To have been loved as we two loved; there is but one Love greater.
As I woke and rejoined the work-day world I whispered “I’ll see You Later.”
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
In Your name, there is healing
Cities with an epidemic illnesses
Stands like the Mt. Horeb
Mighty in posture forever
As Your stretch stretch Your hands
Leprosy’s from every nation cast down
Desperate heart finds, its home
In the green pasture besides the still water
The night will be as it is
But the morning bring great deliverance
At some point of, there will be songs
Of thankfulness from the inside
Your love for us never fails and cease
Springs of water flows like fountain
From Your grace to my place
Im once frail and sick but im release
Far from the medicine and gurney
Your faithfulness in my life
Brings tremendous miracles in many ways
I just I just declare it in faith and love
I say to the world You are Healer
A great Physician of the Father
I experience it right now, the touch
Tomorrow will be a testimony like no other
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 7:37 PM UTC
At preschool last morning, when first class began
Our teacher Miss Fortune, has entered the den
And promptly asked us, the pure younglings
To write on the devil that make us do things
So teacher sat down, and we tykes got engaged
And committedly filled page after page
As we took up an oath, us the urchin, the youth
To speak the whole truth, and nothing but truth
So first rose the young boy Timothy Veet
And confessed all the text that he etched on the sheet
How last week he attended the birthday of Sheila
And got high on some hemp, and two shots of tequila
As he sat, quickly stood his companion wee Tom
And he told how he broke to the principal’s home
Where he gingerly snatched, like a cat burglar
A computer, some cash, and antique silverware
But who took the whole cake, was shy Rosaline
As she stood up and gestured to Billy, her kin
And with timid resolve, and an ear-to-ear grin
Said: “He is the devil that makes me do things…”
Miss Fortune, chalk white, and clearly distressed
Was rushed on a gurney, to the ER no less
Our innocence wither, like a flower well hidden
So why keep insisting on calling us children
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC
Arrival final destination,
Welcome to Huntsville you see,
Enter by the back door,
Then you go to eat,
Traditional fare, if you like,
Burger wrapped in blood,
The blood red of ketchup, matches the blood on your hands,
You are young, dressed in virtual innocence,
Do the crime, you do the time,
Is it worthy of eternity,
Since break of day you wait,
Waiting for impending death,
6 P.M
It is the evening of your darkest day,
For vile sin, with life you pay,
What thoughts traverse through your young head,
As tears trickle and pleas long gone,
For clemency calls rolled onto deaf ears,
You were the big man so they said,
A victim of cruel circumstance,
Collared by forensic drift,
Evidence grabbed,
Poor boy,
At a cost of $86.08,
more than you made on that fateful day,
Led to the gurney in shackles and chain,
Chains weighed heavier than conscience,
Conscience ****** your frightened brain,
Are you moved for your final confession,
Ideal for the papers for in a press release,
The last words he did say,
'Thank God for giving me life, see you soon,
Sir, For it's my final day,
Of course, I forgot you know that anyway',
I'm Sorry, so sorry, Father forgive me,
Waited almost a lifetime for this his final day,
The row of death so welcoming,
The great escape maybe,
Visage of executioner,
Looks deep into your soul,
While you stare vacantly into his eyes,
The ultimate sensation of pain as the needle quickly enters your vein,
As nerve endings and your body die,
Reflection of immaturity,
Bad life, sad life, consequence of situation,
No life had, no love lost!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 8:49 AM UTC
I Thought
I Lost A "Good Woman"
That trauma caused my pulse
to lay flat on a gurney
Ambulance Sirens of Dire Emergency
Rang loud in my eardrums
On my way to
The Heartbreak
Came to find out
It was a
FALSE ALARM
Hallelujah!!
I'm Alive
But will not ever allow
myself to be swindled again
It is hazardous to my health
Amen!
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 1:06 PM UTC
I’m sick of the lies
I’m sick of the guise
Be an ******* to my face you piece of ****
Cut me out like a man
Don’t ****** walk away like I did you wrong
I’ve given you nothing but love from the beginning
and you snap it back in my face
***** I can your disgrace
and this race of ungrateful haste should rethink their approach in the presence of a kind heart and unwavering loyalty
boy,
you pushed me to the edge
and so I pledge
to never trust a soul
cuz this tossing and turning in yearning cuts deep
and I don’t get enough sleep
so count your sheep and be gone without a peep you ******* creep
I’m too real to pretend
In a world of fake embellishments to conceal god’s embroidery
I really thought you’d mean more to me
but you blend n bend just like the rest and to me
you’re just a guest so save me
the best
As I attest to never rest my pen for a pimpled partridge laced to dance to the tune we all know is rehearsed
I’m different
I see your past
I see your essence
I know your actions before you make them and lemme tell you
I could sell you here and now but you wouldn’t be worth it.
Don’t name me n game me like your dame to-be cuz I hear your hesitation and bruises
look like ******* on wanna be bad boys
**** all that noise
I’ve done that ****
I’ve lived that life
And I can play ***** less flirty and more wordy than a whole gurney of gays with no praise for your plug’s percocet purse you’re tryna nurse cuz no curse will salvage a sick man’s mind
Next time, don’t even bother
hittin me up for a quick ****
cuz you blew that chance a long time ago and I’d have to be on twice the amount of **** I was on then to **** you now
Ha! Like you’d even know how!
I’ve seen your hickeys of conquests Do you think I’m blind?
And that shows you’ve still gotta brag
boy, I’ve ****** your whole family with out a scratch so catch a disease cuz you’ll never please between my knees
You were beneath me from the beginning
But I gave you the doubt
And still
you’d rather smash for the clout cuz your way out of this drought are delusions of grandeur
not credible candor
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
(Scene 2, Take 1)
Off their table and into his gurney
Wheeling you out I start you on your next journey.
With a push of a button he unlocked the latch
Slipping you now into the back and through the hatch
Metallic flakes embedded in the darkness
Sporting twenty two inch chrome rims
He earned it, it's his pleasure, and it’s his pride
You were the second to lie in the back and go in his new ride.
Thoughts of what you will look like run through my visions.
I only know your twenty years of age and if you look into my past
And turned back the clock you would see on the top of the page
Where my first son lost his mom only three years older
From the same cause sixteen years before.
Pulling behind to the parlors back door
We slide you out and your wheels landed on the garage floor
Pulling the chain now I lock us all in and with no escape
Through the windows no one can peek, not even through the drape
With a count of three we place you on your next table
Your remains are contained in a white disaster bag
That bears a zipper with your name on the tag.
Ever so slowly pulling it down with eyes closed till the end
I prayed hard with devotion and with pure respect
Once I saw what was inside my screams were muffled by a silent gasp
Eyes were opened to only see I now was just beginning to inspect
Cause I'm now looking hard for something familiar to detect.
Scanning for the cause he made me stop and with it a long pause
Tearing and scaring the ****** flesh of my mind I then felt
Upon the sights, the true power of the reapers claws.
On a new strange quest, I see now, I'm taking a test
Mentor with a grin on his face I can't contest
I don't complain for I watched him get his fill.
Knowing this is the greatest and now to date,
I now only hope when we get done tonight
I'll get an A in the end
On my test.
(To be continued.....)
P.S. Buckle up for Scene 3 Take 1 it's all about sewing him up an putting the pieces back together for casket viewing....
(CARSr. 2012)
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
I woke up on the gurney
with pain that robs my breath.
Broken ribs and a row of sutures
running down between my *******
Strange to still be breathing
when my heart is dead and gone
In my chest Abio-Cor
stubbornly pumps on.
Was it really just a week ago
sitting with my friends in class
when first I felt the stabbing pain.
when each breath came as a gasp?
My teacher called an ambulance
He saved my life, friends say.
A muscle killing virus
caused my pulse to fade away.
One hundred over forty
I was quickly losing ground.
I would need a donor transplant
but none compatible was found.
I’m a high school girl, just seventeen
-I should be college bound
Not fighting for each breath and
destined for a plot of ground.
The surgeon asked my parents
if he should try Abio-Cor
an artificial heart replacement
in which researchers placed great store.
My crying parents, grasped the straw
consenting he should try.
They would operate immediately-
delay would mean I’d die.
So now I’m in recovery
with my artificial heart.
My fiends call me the Tin Girl,
because of my replacement part.
It will be a long recovery-
seven weeks if fate is kind..
I share my feelings with a heart
still learning to be mine
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 7:25 PM UTC
Friday, 1211h
A man collapses at lunch
and his vitals spin away like
marbles: pulse, breath, pallor
rolling about on the floor
out of reach of the heroes who
shout his name, flash their pagers
like the batman symbol.
Someone get a doctor in here, now.
The old Vets shuffle out of the room
comment blearily on the poor guy
I guess after the War things do not phase you the same
but perhaps they didn't notice the hue of his lips.
And then he stabilizes, and I fall apart
aghast, aback, there is still tuna sandwich in my mouth
ground by my teeth into a diamond to monument the recovery.
The gurney rolls by, I know him.
My stomach falls to Ground Floor
in relief and despair.
That's the thing about long term care
these men are clever, they teach you so well how to live
that you forget they're supposed to die.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
A recipe
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was half-baked,
but what is edible will say:
something about instructions,
something about parts making a whole,
something about convection,
something about mixing in a bowl,
something about dough
and something about kneading
something about confections,
something about breathing.
An epitaph
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was rotten,
what wasn't will rise and say:
something about a journey,
something about fate,
something about love and
something about hate,
something about laying on a gurney
and something about decay,
something about destiny,
something about history,
then it might yawn
and lay back in its grave
A pamphlet
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some parts were mute,
others that weren't will speak and say:
something about tolerance,
something about abuse,
something about inhalants
and something about a noose.
A brochure
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was fake,
but what is real will last and say:
something about a lawyer,
something about curruption,
something about justice
and how it serves a function,
something about admittance,
something about plastic surgery
and breast reduction,
and a catholic priest mumbling
something about perjury.
A eulogy
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was dead,
but what was alive will stand and say:
something about a life
and something about living,
something about a wife
and something about a thing worth giving,
something about a family
and something about foes;
something about winning
and something about woes.
A book
I wrote one of those in my head today;
some of it was filth;
but what was clean will shine and say:
something about character,
something about freedom,
something about development
and something about respect
something about supplement,
something about unity,
something about revolution
and how I think the world should be.
A song
I wrote one of those in my head today;
but it was a bird and it flew away,
If all that's left is just one dying wing
it would flap around
on the ground
and try to sing:
something in near-pefect pitch
something bluesy and
about a *****
then probably something about flight
and finally something about a
bright white light.
A poem
I wrote one of those in my head today;
the lines were seeds
I planted before the cold;
some froze out, some took hold
but what remains grows bold and will say:
something about a heart,
and how you had it from the start;
something about sunlight,
and how you make it seem less bright;
something about the wet wet rain
something about willingness
and something about refrain.
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 7:12 AM UTC
Today I woke up angry
And by the time I feel better it'll be too late to save me
While the voice on the TV sang the
******** reasons why they think I did it.
I got my snap back turned back
Ready to make a head snap back
When I let my rifle crack
Everyone will know I did it.
They will say I am mentally ill
When they were the ones who gave me the **** pill
Wrote depression as the cause on the itemized bill
Then send my *** out for another refill.
They turned the neighborhood into a war zone
When the cops came to my home
I would have come freely had they phoned
Instead they had guns drawn, ready to unload.
Hook me up to a gurney
Stick me with a poison needle to send me on my final journey
While a group of people look upon me
Never once believing my story.
The truth is, the bullet was meant for my own head
But I got scared and pointed it at the window instead
I shot a three year old girl as she slept in her bed
When it was my own life I wanted to end.
Today I woke up angry
Today is the day they are going to hang me
The death knell sings all around me
Life's final reminder of the ******** reasons I gave not to live it.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
I,
have issues.
But probably not the kind you think.
Mine were created by my father and big sister.
By their relationship.
I have strived for a better relationship
to be better at everything than her.
But I've given up.
I no longer see the point
When you're sixteen years old
And you're more mature than your forty-three year old father.
Even so I'm terrified I'll end up like my sister.
Albeit she's doing well now
She's a teacher and is happy
and, she hates our fathers guts.
I don't blame her though
when you're father calls you a *****
And accuses you of sleeping around
because you go to school early to get help.
I can see why.
It doesn't help when he sides with his sister-in-law
And he tells you to "respect your elders"
even though she tried to burn you with a firework.
I do blame her however
for that dark cloud over my birthday.
See the night I turned ten
she took those pills.
She drank that strawberry Hill Boonesfarm.
She tried to **** herself.
But see I'm the only one who remembers the date
I remember every detail of that night.
Every image
Every feeling,
Everything.
I remember the red and blue flashing lights.
I remember the gurney
I remember the cold of the night,
until I went numb that is.
I have no respect for my father
when you do that to a child how could you.
But I am terrified of that.
Terrified I'll end up like her
that I'll break
that I'll be the one on the floor unconscious.
He was trying to do better
but I think he's given up too.
And while my greatest fear is that I'll be like my sister.
My second greatest
is that I'll end up with someone like my father.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
I can still see the lights flashing
off the walls of the Crossroads Cafe
the red and blue turrets spinning gyroscopically
as they loaded the old guy in the ambulance
sliding the gurney in
like a tray of bread into the oven
but that old guy ain’t getting cooked
and coming out smelling fresh
they worked on him ten minutes
on that ***** diner linoleum
while our food got cold
three of us, at least, punched in 911
on our cells, all being told by the dispatch
the paramedics were already on their way
like maybe someone had a crystal ball
and knew the ancient diner
was going to fall flat on the floor
when he got up to pay his check
(for $4.88 I think)
I could see three quarters on the Formica
his silver goodbye to the world
his gift to some faceless waitress
who would not sleep that night
without an extra couple of beers
because his face, contorted and staring
into the florescent haze above him,
would still be in her head
when she closed her eyes…
after the cops and the paramedics
disappeared into the night
I ate what was left of my cold eggs and hash
when I got up to pay, my chest felt tight,
only for a second, under that same buzzing light,
when I crossed the spot where the old guy had lain
a fat roach made its way across the floor
through the last somber slobber
the man would ever drip
I crushed him casually,
remembering
I had forgotten
the tip
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
You know as well as I do
that internet dating can have its ups
and downs
and thus, after so many futile meetings
and tragic misadventures
in a domestic UK situation,
I decided to spread my wings
and so I logged on to an Australian website
for lonely kangaroo lovers
yes it was www.blackstump-legover.com.au
where no holes were barred.
And I soon struck up a promising friendship
with someone who sounded like
a real goer, a total slapper,
with no morals whatsover
judging from the photo she posted
taken with a mobile phone
up her skirt
which showed her **muffin *****
as well as what she had eaten
for breakfast yesterday,
poking its head out.
We finally agreed to meet
behind the old dunny
in the park where the abos go
to exchange their social security vouchers
for crack *******
or a bottle of Castlemain XXXX
or a quick one up each others' bots
in spite of the pong
on a sunny arvo.
You can imagine how effing disappointed
I was when she arrived
on a trailer attached to her grandson's ute
strapped to a battered gurney
(and almost insensate)
but still ready for a bit of backdoor action
but not from me, no sirree,
thank you very much mate:
I might be desperate, but
I would have had to have
clipped my nose shut with a clothes peg
to get anywhere near her
and my gag reflex simply couldn't cope.
So I bravely dragged the gurney
over to the convenient gap
in the fence overlooking the mighty ravine
and with a gentle shove
I sent her to that sweet place
where peace can be found
and I can still hear her scream
as she bounced off the rocks
accusing me of being illegitimate
before silence reigned
and I smiled in joy.
It only goes to show, O my friends,
that there are female dogs
of the most hideous kind
on every sodding continent
on this dear planet of ours;
and I may as well stick to
a handful of Nivea cream
and a Kleenex, at least the odour
is wholesome.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
It having been decided, herein is pronounced.
Let them know the number of days; let them count the number of days
and the count shall be 180.
Day 1 let him strike his head with his fists and call it "stupid".
Day 5 let the vomiting begin without surcease.
Let him dress for work as if he can.
Let him park and never drive beyond Day 10.
Let him pass out at the toilet.
Let him shed 100 pounds and all his hair.
He shall suffer such indignities as appertain
until he is brought to tears before his eldest son
of whom he shall ask, "Do you believe in miracles?"
Let there be no reprieve, neither for the holidays.
Let him wander out into the snow without a coat
and utter, "So beautiful. So beautiful."
All this in due course to precede the final 3.
The son and he shall smoke a last cigarette on the porch.
He shall proceed to the gurney and not see home again.
Let them gather at the hospice room.
Let him suffer terminal rage
thus shall he be manhandled by the sons.
On that day he shall be bedridden by narcotic.
Let him fall into persistent incoherence.
They shall play the New World by Dvorak.
He shall not hear.
They shall gather for the Rosary over him.
He shall not hear.
The eldest son shall vow to stay at his side
nor shall he sleep for 72 hours.
The son shall not permit the end to come.
The son shall take his hand and say
"Only God takes it away."
And when the room is empty but for them he shall sing softly
"Today While the Blossoms Still Cling to the Vine"
He shall not hear.
Let them all tell him it is okay to die.
Let the eldest son protest, "It is not okay to die."
In the final hours he shall struggle again
thus to be manhandled by the sons.
Then amid his incoherence he shall look the eldest in the eyes
and solemnly say
"I love you."
These shall be his last words.
Let them check his toes for signs of life.
Let the breathing come infrequently.
Let the breathing cease.
Let the son remain until they pull away the sheet
and display him in his nakedness at last.
All this to be accomplished January 15
in the year of Our Lord.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
Laying naked
Just beside, intertwined
Panting, smiling, lieing
another accomplishment of mine
To have it, take it, ruin
Something so precious as a body
Another meat machine with needs
Deseases, urges, weakness
Wanting only the fleshy salts and juices
I ****** you, now you are...
Unless,...
So now if i grab your hair
I, confess these dark lustful urges
Beg, coherse, guilt work
Saddness then there is anger
Hurt, and insecurity
Childish fear is that as is darwin's
To ejaculate, filling the vessel
To do as promised, programmed, built
So that when i am caught,
My life over and the gurney beneath
Shall an invisible piece remain.
But honestly, right now...
I am arroused and you can feel it
Open your mouth, i too gladly taste your fluids
I promise, our secret, just one time...
Penetrated and found it lacking
Spine, self control, or courage not to trade morals
right then, right there
I had you.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC