Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.
In churned up soil the poppy rose
On top of death, still steadily grows
And in our minds we see the crosses
That lie in rows and count our losses
Blood that drips from tiniest bloom
Beloved children, lost from the womb
Their essence blown upon the earth
For infinity, will show their worth
And so they marched by decree
A war they fought, so we could be free
The poppy, how we remember them now
So in silence we do reverently bow
One single day, just once every year
To remember all the horror and fear
To give thanks and praise, to those in need
Who saved us through unselfish deed
For so young when they said goodbye
With no idea that so many would die
In Flanders Fields where poppies grow
Innocence, now lays buried in each row
For those that did return safely home
Their spirit lost and so had flown
To fly away among the peaceful skies
With friends and larks with carefree eyes
In the thunder hear the roar of guns
Calling to all our native sons
Arise, arise, from sleep once more
For once again, there will be war
In Flanders Fields, the poppies grow
They cover our loved ones, buried below
Like a blanket, they protect all within
From a world that is ravished by sin
More souls will join them as the years go by
More wars will be fought, as the lark does cry
More fields will be filled, with our dead
And poppies will mark their graves in red
"Lest we forget and more shall die"
"In Flanders Fields our loved ones lie"
We talked at length
The hours we passed
The life you lived
Oh the horrors
So many men's live snuffed
Oh Arizona, a dedication
Whose souls be at rest
Amidst oily scum
And so many others
Sightless eyes watch
The world in disintegration.
Yes, you’ve seen
Many unimaginable horrors
Those only Man can inflict
You’ve grasped my heart
I watched you whither away
A hero by all accounts
God rest your soul
Oh gentle man.
God rest ye gentle man.
My heart aches
With your passing
Now I have your cherished one
She that you know
Rested in my heart
For years and years and years
The one that tended you
All that time
Oh yes, that woman of women
She is in my arms
Forever… my very first love
The thought of whose love
Brings tears to my eyes
Just so you know…
Semper Fidelis... you are my hero Donald Canan,USMC, WWII veteran Western
Pacific... he told death to get bent. May God Rest your soul.
Light splashes on windowpane…
Leaving nothing behind
No pattern or trace…
If only those tears
Anguishly wept for you…
Upon your deathbed
Had washed away…
Cleansing the pain
That even now abrades my spirit…
Alone in loneliness
Amid forever nights
And these four walls
In faint, whisper soft your name
I beg out loud to the nothingness that remains
"Please not another nightmare, no more storms"
But, answers are merely glimpses of light
Filtering through the pane
Cast empty shadows on the wall
Of places where you used to be
Eyes wide open
Now asleep, afraid I am to fall
Trapped within this never ending dream
I cling to all the memories that I have
Spinning me closer to where you were, in parallel on the edge
The thoughts, like imaginary rubble, comes tumbling passed
A fire for you still burning inside
Why can’t I let go of the tragedies last
And silence your unrescued suicidal screams
Or is it only the rain falling faster as it taps harder, and harder upon the glass
Or is it of your wandering spirit
Haunting with its vindications
Of "why’s" I can never seem to grasp
All this amidst lost stares into black windows
Where gutters overrunning, burdened by the strains
And I swear I see your reflection
Among the flashes, tracing out illuminations about your face
And for the first time
You are noticeably absent of all the worldly pains
And your lips releasing out a comfort that for so long I've been seeking
As I hear the words echo within my stormy heart "That where you are everything is okay"
You think you’re alone out on the range
Sittin’ silent under starry sky,
Just a marvelin’ at the universe
And wonderin’ ‘bout that ol’ question: why?
You shake your head at worlds of worry,
Knowin’ it ain’t often that you’ll find,
All the answers to your queries
Beneath the clear black sky and pine.
You wonder if we rose up from mud
And walked straight and tall upon this earth—
Or was it all created in a moment—
A conception that gave us true birth.
Are we all no more than those monkeys
Evolvin’ slowly down life’s long line?
Or is there more to earth and heaven
Touched by something truly sublime?
We keep on punchin’ clocks and cattle
And tryin’ to get through each new morn—
But is there more to life than dyin’
And will we somehow be reborn?
All the cattle know my hard proddin’
As I lead them along time’s sad way—
We live for but a flashin’ moment,
As we watch life go by in one short day.
So make the best of trails you ride, cowboy—
Each tomorrow is both yours and mine—
And gaze long at stars in that vast sky
Placed there by intelligent design.
No longer at desk the typewriter has been given
it's final rest.
As he cant recall the day or year.
The once strong mind is closed the body
but a museum or tribute to what once was.
he his home but locked within himself.
Vist's from thoose who once knew the man
are like people viewing a body at a wake.
he calls from within the shell for for release.
Yet his lips will not move his voice never sounds.
Inside he burns for the chance to run as the river
chases the sea.
To be the man they never knew and the one he
could admire and both despise.
The page sits in typewriter like a willing
eager lover in bed.
Waitting in stockings that cling to delicate thigh.
the tears escapes it's minds prison.
He thirsts for it like a drunk for that morning drink
of whiskey waitting hands held togather trying
to keep from shaking.
He sits as a painter without hand.
watching the most beautiful sunset fade without
a chance of ever capturing this moment.
The ink is drying he feels it everyday.
Soon he hopes like the dust that does gather
he will be swept away.
When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...
I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky
The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn
I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe
The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul
Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through
Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost
I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art
As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow
Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place
The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost
Day was Life,Night is Death
And the latter has given counsel on my final steps
I do not know?
While walking through a hospital one day, a veteran I did see
He was in a wheelchair with both legs missing, and he did it for you and me.
I turned around a corner and down another hall
Only for my eyes to behold a family who has lost it all
A five year old cried out,"Why did daddy have to die?"
The mother held her son closer while she greived and began to cry
The mother of that young Marine, who had fought over in Iraqu
Wandered why her son so brave, didn't survive the enemie's attack
The father of that soldier, hung his head to cry
He was a retired soldier himself, why couldn't he have been the one to die?
His heart broken sister, sits in shock and tries to deny
The death of her older brother, he was killed and don't know why
A few days later, a family, everybody all dressed in black
Went to the funeral of a twenty-five year old who too our bullet in Iraq
The Bible says "thou shalt not kill." and "Love your neighbor" too
Maybe our soldiers aren't doing what's right, but they still take your bullet for you
They sleep in foxholes, and eat in trenches, and do all that they know to do
They rest in the sand with no comforts of home and they take your bullet for you
The restless nights turn into days, you wouldn't believe all they go through
THe rest of us sit at home and gripe, and still they take your bullet for you
The next time you hear a 21 gun salute, don't condemn as others do
The next time the taps are being played, remember, they took that bullet for you.
Thanks, Veterans for your sacrifice.
Stumbling Through a Bewildering Maze,
Of Thoughts and Dreams, He Finds Emptiness.
The Over-exhuming Haze of a Comfortable
Life Exhausts Him, And He Sinks into Himself.
Words From His Brief Interactions Are Destroyed
By Him, Not Absorbed. It's Killing Him.
Water From His Dusty Satchel, Glints as
He Spills it onto His Lap.
-You're Losing it -
He Feels The Stares From Countless Eyes,
And Shrugs it off with Solitude as his Shield.
You've Become The Guy Your Parents Used
To Tell You To Avoid in The Street.
- You Wanna Hurt People -
He watches the Cliques of People Enjoy his
Insecurity. No-one Takes him Seriously.
He Picks The biggest Guy, His Shank, more
Powerful Than His Fist, He walks towards Him.
- It's About To Go Sour -
His Feet Crunches Aeons Beneath Him, And
Stamps Out His Future Genetics.
The Shank, Concealed in his Sleeve. Here it
Comes, This Was his final mark of Respect.
- His Veins Pump Hard -
The Adrenaline Sends Tears to his Eyes,
And Weakens His Legs, he'll Fight or Cry.
The Shank Slides Like Threading Silk Into
His Victims Stomach, Eyes Locked.
- Control it, Stay Calm -
There Was To be No Assistance, Retaliation
Was To be Swift, and Effortless.
He Smiled as They Withdrew Their Weapons
From His Chest.
- Fall To Your Knees -
Choking on Muffled Screams, behind The
Blood and Mucus Filling his Mouth.
- Close your Eyes -
The Light Seemed To Bend in and out of The
Dark patches, It hit his eyes, and blinded him.
- This Makes Sense -
His Face hits Sand...