Best One Foot In The Grave Poems
My life spirals ever downward...
The grave taunts me with its laugh.
Death's bony fingers are affixed my throat
As the jester of my unmerited epitaph.
My angst at my ever-flounder appears
Well-earned and justly placed
Where the rabid minions of an avenging God
Will no doubt make bold of my disgrace.
Have I lived too long a life so plain
Where my soul was too confined
And any realistic hope of eternal bliss
Seems mere folly at this time?
To live too long is an old Man's curse
And bound to evoke some industry
Where best intentions are set adrift...
To partake sweet ecstasy.
These stains that commemorate my Earthly Sins
Are laid denuded for all to see.
I drag them unceremoniously into an afterlife
That may not wish to bolster me.
But who among us hasn't stumbled
With Death's foot ajar the door
With temptations strewn like pearled oysters
On life's repugnant shores?
The righteous path is straight and narrow
And a vehicle for all those bold and brave
But only appeared crucial and strategic as
I stand with one foot in the grave.
How happier were those days gone by
When I was young and free from vice.
If I had only maintained such vernal guileless
To insure a place in paradise.
But I have come to this conclusion
As Death's whisper slakes my soul with dread.
Too much time has been my nemesis and any
Last minute burbling is better left unsaid.
So at this hour... this late late hour...
I now confront an awful truth.
I might have had a better chance at Heaven...
Had I perished in my youth.
The End
Ever-flounder: A bad situation of one's own making.
*I wrote this poem from the perspective of someone who fears their sins are
too heavy for God to bear.
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your uncle.
Rainbow Nation
Blanca is white like beautiful snow in the Drakensberg Mountains
she snorted star powder past the perforated septum into her brain
Black as coal from the underworld mines in Mpumalanga Melanie
had her stomach pumped and purged while sleeping off darkness
Amber is coloured mixed race in the Rainbow of Nations her work
still paid in dop cheap vine that slaves her away in alcoholic trance
Arnav of Indian descent was hooked on dagga grown by the ocean
converted to heroin sold her frail body and skin for brown liquid sugar
Jacobus Bandele Lungelo and Bhavin shared needles and comfort
on the streets of Johannesburg flirted with disaster drug related crime
and their dealers cracked at the dawn longed for dust in the dusk
Drugs do not respect colour gender ability social class and religion
all druggies are equal with craving dependency not restricted to some
Now united in rehab like the state of the nation they all stood at the
table of mountains with one foot in the grave at the cliff face of habit
One day at the moment they now battle their demons resist the temptation
for only the time being from one morning away from the devious mourning
one drug line not taken one fall off the wagon shunned and avoided for now
They have all chased the dragon for far too long and imbibed with the devil
for so many wretched days and nights of delusion torment addiction and pain
Again once more each day anew their only chance to abstain one day at the time
Let me show you your own death,
Night can fall in many ways,
Every time a friend betrays,
Love has one foot in the grave,
Voices rush to call you knave.
When you can't catch your own breath,
Cold-cocked by traitorous smile,
Lying sweetly all the while,
Whore to all that came before,
Lamb's blood now scrubbed from your door.
Tells you that YOU did the deed,
All the hurts you never knew,
Suddenly burst into view,
Love's sweet light now going pale
'Victim's curses' soul assail.
Withholds that at last are freed,
Silent lies dressed now as truth,
Venom spoken without ruth,
Your love now is shaken cold,
Burden more than heart can hold.
Clothed in naught but righteousness,
All withholds become your sin,
Vengeance poured on world of men,
Moderation disavowed,
Scales of justice truly cowed.
Souls so stained by callousness,
Only God has strength to mend,
Danger there for simple friend,
Branded! Yes, by love's bright flame,
With God's help forget the name.
Brian Johnston
Sept.06, 2014
Poet's Notes:
Sometimes innocents are caught up in satanic whirlwinds that blind them to what friendship really looks like and what is required of a friend. Dear friend still, former friend I still believe to me, I will always pray for your soul. May God open your eyes to who your real friends are! Live well and prosper, but short of a miracle, I will not be by your side! New friends, who are easier to love, it seems are everywhere!
Be not soft upon the morrow
For the maliciousness it contrives.
The future beckons unending sorrow
To gamely catch the vulture's eye.
'Tis the destiny of mice and men
To be laid waste by nature's curse.
Where foolishness belied of ink and pen
Will by the margins burst.
Persist not in vacuous dreaming
To make bold some vague intent.
Obviate all grift and scheming
To survive the main event.
There are those with want of glory
To lead sluggish minds astray.
With a foreshadow of song and story
For those with one foot in the grave.
These stygian forces stand ready
To make dark such days to come.
They seamlessly evoke some cosmic eddy
Where weathered voices go unsung.
We are pawns to this game we borrow
With our future slaked with pain.
If your happiness lies on the morrow...
You will be despondent once again.
If you're consumed by fear and trouble
With clouds toned a spectre-grey.
Prepare for further ruin and rubble
With a new sunrise on the way.
Put away burbling of blissful leavings
You think the morrow may provide
With the approach of another evening,
You will not long survive the tide.
You may bloviate a ray of sunshine,
Pushing hope where none exists
With an ignorance to the grand design
Where winds of chaos oft persist.
I will grant the morrow stands untainted
With yet no mark on time and space
But remove this cheer you've now acquainted
And forever leave my hiding place.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
space-time serves a purpose
being that, said 'space' is predetermined but,
it is dimensions of the fourth that matter
from depths to surface; a return from hell
(...till late at night that which mattered
would be broken, smote, and shattered
oers't my chamber floor, and
nothing more...)
now in the sun
i see
what it 'means'
to be free
(...uh! space-time
determined,
and, there-by
vermin...)
space changes,
it is a measure,
of time,
time rules
(the being
...time-space
...ah...
the god)
in time-space
now i find a way, andt
enjoy each and every second
of each and every day
(...i'm stll here
...never stray
...one foot in the grave
and eventually on my way)
There once was an old man from Thomaston
Who said at the young age of ninety-one
Look at that old man try to walk
Walking straddle legged he mocked
One foot in the grave and one slip, he's done
My father said that to me one day
As I was bringing him back to the
Nursing Home after I had carried
Him shopping for the things he
Liked to have one hand at the
Home..He went in at the home
and asked mother, "Do I walk
straddle legged." Mom said,
"I don't think so, why do you
ask?"...
Consuming your words
trim the fat from my waistline
like anorexics
The empty calories
in your words turned my face to shame
like bulimics
Your words like junk food
made me unhealthy
as the years pass by
My thin darkened skin
wrinkled having no luster
awaits death
Empty calories in your words
took a toll on my soul
crushed my spirit
Now one foot in the grave
one standing firm in life
I continue to strive
"Gleaming diamonds in sediment seams,
The trickling washes slithering into streams,
Notching clouds serrating luminescent beams,
Hazy mirage of mosaic jigsaw dreams,
The interlocking notches of ones jeans,
Assorted tiles of pixelated screens,
Grinding, grooved cogs of steam machines,
Double-edged relief on drawn up vaccines,
Grasping at far away stars to stay up on a wave,
Gravity, anchoring has mankind shackled as a slave,
The bearing of antimatter flash in the black of a cave,
Fireballs, spiralling in diluted spheres at a rave,
The bipolar compass roots scattered forming a knave,
Burning sensations of liberty that which we crave,
Straying from hard beaten paths that others pave,
Ever lurching, learning with one foot in the grave"
LF
Agonizing hours blend int days,
Morning, noon, and night;
Trivial things, mere details,
Who spends time thinking about
What means nothing to you?
Poisonous clouds infect the air,
Invading and corroding every
Nearby surface, leaving no mistake
Of poisons that come in waves,
Through tunnels and into dark caverns
Stabbing the brain with a bitter, twisted knife.
Through adjustable chambers that
Penetrate and deliver their unholy burden,
Waves of agony and ecstasy burst forth
Drawing another sheep into the fold.
Through turbulent and raging winds,
Passed through beads of glass,
Shrouds of tender death
Freezing all life it meets into dust.
Two shades left of alive
With one foot in the grave
Staggering up and over again
To keep the fire burning still.
A mind encased by fetters,
A body crippled and broken
Keeping the wheel spinning
Without ever slowing down.
HAZARD ON THE STREET
She really shouldn’t drive
That old person hair so white
She doesn’t know what to do
Such a sad pathetic sight!
Car horns blow behind her
She hears a man rant and rave,
“You shouldn’t be out driving,
You’ve got one foot in the grave”
I see why she’s annoying
She seemed so dangerous too.
Wonder does she live alone,
Does she have a me or you?
Perhaps doesn’t have a choice
When to Doctor she must go.
Before you condemn old soul
Think of elderly you know.
Glance her way once again
Put yourself in her sad seat.
One day we too may become
An old Hazard on the Street!
Barbara Barry-Nishanian
March 2003. copyright
visualizing moments from my past
i had friends that were too fast
and now they're pushing up grass
some pulled triggers to prove they were'nt punks
got sent to prison to spend their lives on jail bunks
in this world of wicked people
its seems like um walking a tightrope between good and evil
shedding tears for my peers who passed away
but we cant go back to yesterday
and this world is hard as steel
one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel
so if i slip I'm outta here
I can't cope and since I don't smoke dope I drank a lotta beer
but I can't go to the store and drink a quart of brew
without running into the can I have a quarter crew
it seems they beg so much
their hands look like cups
enough is enough
it's back to doing stickup
killers busts caps
so I bust back
plus these crakheads are birthing little maniac rugrats
I'm changing much like the seasons do
everybody praise the power of the trigger so im squeezing too
if i negotiate they think I'm soft
I guess they can only understand the sound of pistols going off
so if its me or him picture that cat as good as popped
I'd rather lie behind some iron bars than in a wooden box
so send him flowers and bring me ciggarettes
not for a rep but Im going to choose life over death
i guess thats the way of the world and sense I cant change it
then how I feel is how I will bring it.
i
Told my girlfriend ‘I’m halfway there’
She figured I was thirty-five…
After she’d done up and married me
I told her I’ve one foot in the grave
~ yet still alive
Everyone has a soul to save
Somewhere in time from cradle to grave
Everyone dies as each one must
Flesh to bone to ashes to dust
Time brings age as do we all
Every rise is followed by a fall
Our final journey to the barrows down
We’re laid to rest six feet under ground
We travel by night to Sandman’s sound
In dreams with ghosts of ancestors all around
We all hit the wall
We go to high school and off to college
We become a warehouse of useless knowledge
We live to work and work to live
They always take and never give
For they that start by burning books
Will end by burning men
It will be as bad as it looks
And will happen over and over again
The dead from the battlefield
Will rise up once more
Take up their swords and shields
And they will arrive at your front door
Demanding of you what happened to them
In wars, massacres, chaos and mayhem
There is no such thing as the promised land
And there is no such thing as fate’s guiding hand
And there is no such thing as destiny too
Also, there is no such thing as dreams coming true
We all must bear the shame
And we all must bear the blame
We all have one foot in the grave
Only God can save
The innocent from the guilty
The ones half dead or will be
It’s not a game
But all the same
We all play anyway…
A triggered intention to delay the sobriety. This has become her daily intention. Suicidal note helps her cope. Manic depression and a drug seeking obsession filled with no hope. The new malicious promoter is now present. No money in her pocket, not even a red cent. Prison bound and a soul that can never be found. A self-indulged murder ride put one foot in the grave. There is no room to be brave. There dope becomes her enforcer. A family full of spite and anger. Rage has become their enabler. Added pressure makes life and reality beyond grasp.
Getting sober and reaching divine origin seen in her mother becomes the new lethal gene. After seeing strength and looking fear in the eye. There is no more reason to let go and die. Too many times sitting there wanting to cry. Too much corruption fills a drug fueled life. She seems to never be complete, unless she is 6 feet deep. Never will reality make her into a giving type wife.
A sic made mind was constantly left to fend. No, this cannot be the end. As she stares into the eyes of the beholder of her defeat. This daily poisonous treat is no longer there to profit. Caught in a constant ring of fire. If she did not get clean time would have been ready to expire. It is a readiness that takes over, then gives chance to retire. A deal was made and the addiction is no longer obeyed.
Picture a man and a woman naked side by side,
chains wrapped loosely around their necks
attached not to each other, but to the familiar horned beast that towers over them.
To others it appears obvious they could easily abdicate, however the couple does not view the same landscape
They stay comfortably bound to the monster they recognize
what may come to their surprise
they are their own adversary and their own allies
rather than escaping habit they CHOOSE to stay enslaved
not living but surviving, one foot in the grave.
Its not that they are unable ,they know they can be free
they are just so accustomed to not being able to breathe.
They are hoping that they can illustrate their own reality,
create their own light, dreaming of freedom
whilst still believing the chains are skin tight.
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