Grandfather

You had a lot to say,

A lot locked behind all the walls of your losses,

Heavy half-truths, unexhumed feelings, and prejudices.

A doomsday prophet, razor-focused on the end.

So absorbed with abstract death, present miseries eluded you,

That was, until they burdened you, and wore you down.

The last eight years of your life were some of the strangest of mine.

We needed each other, but I couldn’t always depend on you.

You were the last person I would trust with anything personal,

And in my lowest moments, I hate to say, your words only hurt.

I couldn’t be your grandson, though I pretended to the end,

Hiding everything about myself as I tended to your needs.

And when you were afraid to die, I stayed beside you,

Comforting you with the same love you had for me,

The unconditional, but seperated from real empathy.

The truth is that we could never accept each other

For who I am and what you believed.

For all the years we spent together, just ourselves,

Every day was a little painful, with all the tension I concealed.

It was all for you, and now you’re finally burned and buried.

It hit me hard, knowing our interactions are done.

Your voice is embedded in my mind, your words and persona.

I miss you, and it’s bitter, even though I’m glad you’re gone.

Goodbye Grandfather, I’ll remember all you taught me.

I’ll remember because I’m unable to forget.

You taught so much and still learned so little.

The end of the world is surely coming, even though you missed it.

Goodbye.

Waiting For A Funeral

This place is more quiet than I can remember.

I knew it would come to this, but the experience is still new.

I feel like taking some of your old clothes,

The ones you asked me to take but that I never wanted.

I’m trying to remember the good times we had,

But it’s hard to think of anything we enjoyed together.

Mostly, I just feel the absence of you from my life.

You weren’t always great, but without you there’s still that feeling,

That missing piece your presence embedded in me

Freed up and empty, an unfamiliar abscess that aches.

The funeral is in two days.

I’m anxious to finally say goodbye.

Moon Songs

A ghost behind the moon
Dulcetly laments the passage of time,
Every stroke of luck or doom,
Fate and death imbued in lullaby.
Sometimes it’s all I want to listen to
A song sadder and more beautiful than you
As beautiful as you are in dysfunctional splendor
Something even worse feels so much better.
Versus of cruelty and tragedy
Burning softly beneath unsettled feelings.
Distant narratives of epic abstraction
Quieting the immediate vacuity of complacency.

Eyes After Everything Ends

The houses rotted,

The roads cracked and slowly eroded,

Power lines toppled,

And trees retook the place of grass.

Lives had finished,

Completed, but never replaced,

Leaving everything behind

For the mildew and quiet to claim.

Everyone had gone,

And they left a fragmented remembrance,

The ruins of excess

And poverty adapted into shadow palaces.

 

When everyone goes

I only hope there will be ghosts,

So someone could see

The beautiful remains of our failures.

 

The arguments died,

All sides are eventually silenced.

Grief lost her way

Without any survivors to guide her.

Indecisions without resolve,

Like half-empty beds and unfinished poems

Revert back to objects

Removed from anxiety and desire.

Landscapes of thought

Retaining echos without sound.

 

When everything falls

I hope to see what happens then.

To see how unknowable

Our intentions and dreams become.

 

 

 

 

Life Like Words

Maybe the world is a game.

If it is, then death is just the goalpost.

The timer. The only real rule.

If it is, then dying is our final score.

Working may be desperate.

Wealth or happiness may make a difference.

We all subsist strategically,

Gaining or lacking in different amounts.

Totality pressures us

To decide which pursuits prove worthy

Of conscious individuality

While it’s ours to compare and contrast.

It’s just a poem.

Writing, but we know it’s a burden.

Words are ours to choose

Until space confines us to a stop.

 

I Found Myself Buried

I was naked, around twilight,

Covered in dirt and leaves

Having been buried alive,

By life buried.

A crawling mass of moist earth

Composed of dismembered deaths,

Colonies of feeding decomposers,

And my own fragile ego.

I must have sunk

From grace down to dirt

And been planted face-down,

Neglected and self-misused.

I suppose I slept

Because I dreamed vividly

In colors more vibrant and varying

Than I ever felt before.

I’d visited myself,

Seen the spectrum of my being

Like so many blends of fantasy and memory

Shifting perpetually within.

Only after waking

I recognize the implication

Of finding myself alive,

Head-first buried in a hole.

 

 

Divinely Strange Comfort

These clouds, this wind,

My habits and mood swings,

Cigarettes and coffee,

Half-finished conversations,

Guarded hearts, tender connections,

Horror movies, memories,

Kissing in your parent’s basement.

October, yes another,

Let’s do nothing in October

But stay warm and witness death.

Nature wants to sleep.

I’m cold, but you’re warm.

Nevermind the ghosts,

They make the air more profound.

Encroaching sleep,

A pleasant sensation,

No better way to fall

In this moment.

Cold is coming

To swallow us up again.

This quiet anticipation

Makes a comfort, divinely strange.

Lay Awake

Stillness and restraint,

A body bound in ruffled sheets.

Living, but sedate,

Concerned only with its dreams.

Needful little wishes,

Faintly nibbling at perfection

For unresolved conflicts

Shrouding comfort in their impression.

Disassociate the brain,

In separation from the ache

Of toil’s jagged teeth

Dragging steadily while awake.

Restore and repair

The imbalances in the night.

Feeling and fantasy

Flowing inward, mind alight.

Purest completion,

Sheltered from the pangs of life.

Inverted creation,

Eyeless sockets stealing sight.

 

 

 

 

On The Ledge Again

Surrender myself to chasms deep,

At odds with mortal terror.

Survival instincts contradict

Material or internal needs.

Last year’s leaves encircling,

Burying me in a peaceful sleep

Until my head starts swirling

And I fly for ledges to leap.

River valleys with shallow water

And jagged rocks like teeth,

Attractive like the sudden spurt

Of shivering flesh in sweet relief.

Spread my placid, brittle wings

Against the pummeling of my heart.

The whispered words within my brain

Inhibiting my space to breathe.

Falling, laughing, painful happy tears,

Giving scars a chance to bleed.

Awoken from the fallen leaves

Asleep, again, perchance to dream.