i tried to write you a letter
     once
but was unsure of the address for the heavens where you shine
     not "Heaven"
          per say
but the stars that gained your carbon as you selflessly gave it away

          turns out celestial bodies aren't listed in the yellowpages

i tried sending you smoke signals
     twice
but the message was so **** long
  and it read more like a song
    and you never much liked my lyrics anyway

i moved on to morse code
     spent night after night lying on my back with a flashlight
dripping ceasless patterns of dots and dashes into that murky blue puddle of midnight sky
     as if maybe you'd reply
with a simple "hush"
and a shyly sigh

          it finally dawned on me that you probably couldn't decode it
          that your parents probably never made you learn
               i cursed them for not teaching you how best to reach me

now
     i'm getting older
and colder
and alot less wide-eyed and hopeful

now
     i just hope you can hear me speak

the click in the back of my throat that comes with trying not to cry
the sincerity in my 'love you's
  and my 'miss you's
    and in my uncensored ungaurded love that i ash onto your headstone from the end of my pregnant joints

now
     i just hope you can taste the beers i bring to share with you
as i'm rambling along the rails of my de-railing train of thought
and ripping through that sixer i brought
          you and your cheap taste in beer

i hide the bottle caps in those little metal vases that your mom keeps filled with florist foam
     and different colored silk lillies
          they always look so nice

now
     i just hope you can read me
better than you ever could before

i hope you've decoded the lines in my palms
and the ***** of my feet
and the cracks in my nicotine teeth
     as i'm smiling wildly at the earth that keeps your ashes safe
          close to her breaking heart

i hope you can read the quotation atop your grave
     i'd have never imagined that the one permanent thing i could ever give you
          was the last line
          of the last text
          that i'd ever send your way

i meant it back then
but now
      it means so much more

"sleep sweetly, philly, you will never be forgotten"

The coca-cola truck was outside today.
I had some free time so I stole it.
I rolled through the streets of my ****** island,
causing some well deserved destruction.

I may have killed a ******
but it was probably for the best.
Who wants to live with one leg anyway?

I had swerved into a hydrant,
freezing water pounded a ferel cat into a storm drain.
But I had too!
Otherwise my neighbor Russ would have become a pancake.


When I finally learned how to control the truck
I stopped at the local liquor store.
I grabbed a sixer of Rolling Rock
and payed with 28 quarters.
I told big Pat to please keep the change,
I Knew she saw the damage I had done on the way.
But she's an old timer,
These things don't phase her.
She just smiled and asked if-
I wanted a brown paper bag or plastic?

Shadows are taller
run-ups are smaller
throws don't go any far

morale is lower
bat moves slower
no more can hit a sixer.

Muscles aren't sturdy
movement is tardy
lethargic feet hardly run

only lean patches
missed easy catches
nobody says well done.

Can't see it clear
from daze of fear
fumbles my unsteady bat

the opponents dance
they don't miss a chance
the field shouts how's that!

I have a feeling
this body ain't willing
to run on the green anymore

yet the ****** mind
still hopes to find
one last three figure score.

Today I was running to win the race,
and everybody were looking at my face!
Somehow I was trying to overtake all,
but everybody were at a speed of sixer ball!

Due to lack of fitness I lost the game,
and my heart was feeling a great shame!
Then I decided not to quit,
in future I will do everything to keep me fit.

I assure you, I will win the race next time,
till then let's have a juice of pine!

Here where pits line the roads,
loss, we are so inured to in life:
wild-haired hero, when did you
go from warrior to zen master?

Breathing into the night,
the tricolour high:
we rose as one with you;
at the crest, now a vacuum
too hard to fill;

Now no artist the same,
that toils by sultry nights
in our backyard;
Who are you to us?

Lifting our spirits soaring
helicopter goes the sixer -
bouncing our sorrows off the park,
winning from death, the joy!

You are a memory
of the silvery night of hope
the miracle of faith
the tidal wave of belief
that engulfs adversity.

Go but you will never be gone
and a hundred such be born
in this your name, that in the stands
will yet never ring the same;

When I die
Take a moment to smile
Laugh
Or even cry
Brighten my day with obligatory stories
About our glory days
When we’d crush our opponent on the field
Then after the game
Speed away
The only things we needed were a full tank
Great tunes
And a sixer between our legs
Some of you may remember how I used to brag
That I was so clever
Taking any numbers the presenter fed into my membrane center
Processing them like a human calculator  
Boggling and dazzling any onlookers present
Maybe you wonder if I hold any resentment
Since I didn’t take the path of least resistance
I tried to coexist within a twisted system
Make my way without viciously winning
But I just became another statistic
Beaten down by the sadistic traditions of Satan’s assistants 
Now at least I’m at peace resting in pieces
Deceased but no longer diseased
Relieved and pleased that I had my chance to breathe
Before I leave
And Take the final eternal leap
Please keep in mind
Death is always creeping behind
The Reaper with a signed lease
Yearning to drag you to infernal sleep