Long Deceased Poems
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I have just read a lyric penned by Jenish Somadas titled "Sit Beside My Bed" which touched me very much.
As I have mentioned before in one of my poems, my Son David died eighteen months ago. I am being treated for anxiety and depression as his passing caused much unrest.
My life and that of my family changed forever. I became aware of the ugliness in life I had not noticed before.
I lost my trust in people. Socialising had lost its appeal.
I wondered why some humans could be so cold, selfish and uncaring.
My husband John and I go to the cemetery every Saturday to take David flowers.
It's a very peaceful place in a country lane facing the sea with cows grazing in surrounding fields.
Some of the tombstones are very old. There is a brick wall for the cremations.
As we walked into the cemetery we saw an elderly man sitting in a fold-up armchair, looking very comfortable and at peace with the world, having an in-depth conversation with his deceased wife whose grave was bright with flowers. It did not seem at all odd, it looked natural as though she was sitting there beside him sharing a cup of tea, oblivious of anything or anyone else.
I found this extremely emotional, it happened a few weeks ago.
The picture and feeling I had in my heart that afternoon stayed with me.
Jenish Somadas lyric brought this to mind again.
Thank God for love
We can so often forget it's there.
Don’t Angels Get Mail?
I sent a Valentine’s Day card to a friend
Filled with get well wishes…
Hoping she was on the mend
I sealed it with heart stickers
On the envelope flap
Got my mail today
And what did I see?
Familiar hearts stickers
On the envelope flap
I thought it was from her
But it was not to be
DECEASED?
I cried
No not her
RETURN TO SENDER?
I didn’t know
How could that be?
UNABLE TO FORWARD?
What do you mean?
Don’t angels get mail?
3/26/18
~Liz ~1/9/18~ Gone too soon~
A horrific way to find about a death
You are never prepared to see those words
Deceased - Return to sender- Unable to forward
I received this in my mail...not knowing she was gone
Bee sat on drooped lotus
Days back lovey abloom lotus
was at focus
of fluttering butterfly and humming bees
in rapture to capture
fragrance and nectar.
Now lotus drooped with shrunk wrinkled petals
floats on marshy mossy low pond.
Swarm of flies assemble
on bosom of withered blossom.
Willow standing on wet muddy brim
mourns in silent scream
weeping watching dry deceased flower
abandoned by bees and butterflies..
Bumble bee sat idle on bosom of drooped lotus
with its broken antenna..
Gertrude Bangle
1895-1914
By name I was called Trudy.
When living.
Dear friends of the living,
Do you know Whittier town
Is a very haunted town?
Do you know my ghost still walks
Still silently steps by you?
Oblivious you?
Here in the stalking shade of the myrtles?
Here in the dark shadows of the walnuts?
I still seek the solace from a seeping sadness.
Still seek the light of truth
The air of freedom
In a dark smothering hole
Here in Mt. Olive Cemetery.
Come my friends, come to me now.
Come inside this old resting ground
This long deceased land of a thousand yawning holes
And find my wandering ghost.
You will find me lurking by the Bailey and the Baird graves
Here in the dark belly of death and life eternal.
Here in the stalking shade of the myrtles.
Transmogrification into hideous golem like beast...
Seeks to lavish adoration,
especially after freshly deceased
cuz, upon yar flesh I will voraciously
devour thee asthma Christmas feast
mee haint not a cannibal,
cuz this humane anthropophagist
expresses love daintily, hungrily,
and with lips smacking and creased
devours thee charbroiled,
chargrilled, raw or greased.
The above worst case scenario if you
ignore serious warning
and interrupt my sleep
particularly during
rapid eye movement phase,
cuz vital to dream unconsciously deep
if left alone (meaning no awakening me
into foggy, groggy, and soggy state)
lest I manifest into a creep
more horrific (think)
by Dickens Uriah Heep.
Ordinarily mine Hyde bound diabolical
persona non grata
kept under wraps
dramatic malevolent manifestation
only appears only,
when requisite precious dream snaps
courtesy when some wise acre
foolish enough upon me noggin
doth drums, joyfully raps
itty in Blue knuckles (think drum),
cuz as An American in Paris
on permanent holiday courtesy lapse
of rhyme reason
(thank prefrontal lobotomy
to alleviate oppressive
anxiety linkedin with)
absence of necessary cerebral apps
induces predilection to relapse
into atavistic Geico caveman perhaps,
with courtesy bonafide frayed jockstraps
suddenly pops, crackles and snaps
in my body whereby sanity doth caps
eyes, that mashing monster aside,
ye ken count me mandate
fiend in Southeastern Pennsylvania
look no further then bleached lovely bones
formerly missus (sob...sob...sob...)
who thankfully no longer zaps.
Thus allowing, enabling,
and providing yours truly,
not ordinarily unruly
a bachelor Matthew Scott,
(but never known as Dani Boy) duly
available as coolie
cooking up house special wooly
mammoth and side order of tabouli.
A rock for you, mountain for me
Why am I defeated so easily
I put on my pants one leg at a time
That's where there lives an invisible line
Marking the difference between you and I
Explaining my crawl as you fly high
Looking down from your castle
You view me a hassle
I try and try
Excuses run dry
My race is over before it begins
Victoriously, you meet me at the end
Still pep in your step, energy to spare
A turtle minus a shell, I feel so bare
If only I could slow my train of thought
Perhaps I could achieve the life I've sought
But my wheels keep on turning
Wasted energy, I'm burning
Thinking and thinking
Steadily sinking
I start feeling better when I take a pill
Mind thinking clearer, but thinking still
When will I upgrade from thought to action
The cause comes easy, but where's the reaction
Bounteous ideas floating around
The problem, I find, is pinning one down
My mind can chisel the perfect creation
Birthed and deceased in my imagination
A woman with a brain, packed full of intellect
Mouse hovering the button, can't click select
Day in and day out
Goals die and new ones sprout
Nothing is better to excite
Than a new vision when it ignites
But then I notice how my life is compacted
And easily I become too distracted
I try solving the fraction in my mind
Soon realizing, I'm out of time
Another fresh start, I didn't see finish
Perhaps over night, I will replenish
I've realized the truth and admit how it stung
A gritty feel and bitter taste tattooed on my tongue
I'm merely a hamster, the world my wheel
Making no way, but running still
If you look up,
busy vultures
carve a dizzy hole in the heavens.
Feverish sky dancers
honoring the soon departed.
Just above eye level,
iridescent flies do likewise.
Theirs is a less patient maelstrom
buzzing about corpses
like last night’s news.
In the golden west,
a coyote catches the scent,
lightly seasoned with sage.
Others hungrily echo his refrain.
The stealthy fox approaches,
but you don’t know about that.
The ants throw a parade at your feet
one by one they march
a string of rubies to adorn the deceased.
The desert will eat well tonight,
it seems a sunset feast of sorts.
The legless diamond back
kicked things off.
That snake.
It knew it couldn’t eat you,
but wanted a taste.
...Johnny just shrugged, took out his Bowie knife,
and started carving off meat for a meal.
He built a fire and roasted back-strap,
it tasted strangely like pork, and like veal?
He ate until he could swallow no more,
since he knew not when he would find a trail,
even roasted more pieces to take along
for the hours when his strength might fail.
Before he left, he looked to the beast,
said,”Who would believe what happened here?
They’ll all call me mad if I tell this tale,
unless I get myself a souvenir.”
So he went to work with that same big blade,
then set about on a trail, rather long,
it was another day before he heard
old internal combustion’s sweet song.
When he emerged other hunters came round,
said,”I see antlers, but that ain’t a moose?”
So Johnny showed them the Wendigo’s head,
and good lord what a fright was let loose!
Huge, manly men, all armed with big guns,
shrieked and ran off when they viewed the beast,
Johnny said,”Guys, there’s no need to run!
I assure you, he is quite deceased!”
This all repeated when Johnny came home,
most were scared, but others cried it was fake.
Professor’s ran some tests on its DNA,
shook their heads, said,”There must be a mistake.”
Eventually Johnny grew tired of them,
and returned to his job and his life,
he’s got the Wendigo skull in his basement,
he’ll even show you, if you ask real nice.
As for the creatures still lurking out there,
they have a new fear, and they should.
To this day Wendigos run for their lives
when they see Johnny walk into the woods.
You said you were making chicken salad but you made crab salad instead.
You tricked me into eating shellfish and in a few minutes I'll be dead.
My life is flashing before my eyes, I'm really scared.
You're going to take my life and that is not fair.
I'm such a fool, I should've known that you would kill me.
You decided to do it because of my life insurance policy.
You'll collect a million dollars after I die, you certainly do love cash.
I should've listened to my mother when she said that you're trash.
You hid the phone to make certain that I can't call 911.
You also hid my medicine, I would kill you if I had a gun!
If you were a decent person, you'd call 911 because I'm really sick.
You decided to kill me with crab when you learned that I'm allergic.
You're laughing hysterically because I'll soon be deceased.
You won't get away with it, you're underestimating the police.
You never loved me, all you cared about was being rich.
You're an inhuman monster and you're also an evil *****!
(This is a fictional poem.)
Karma is for real. Karma will get you sooner or later. Woe be unto the oppressor when the table turns.
And no matter what difficult time you may go through in life, try hard to have a positive and optimistic outlook.
Because Miss Karma dishes out fortune and the Future like a Mirror.
And Let This be a Warning. Those who do good, Good Karma will Follow You.
Those who are bent on doing or being bad, Bad KLarma will perpetually accompany you like a leach, like crazy Glue.
Karma is Forever. It Lasts Forever, Until Death Do Us Part. So Do Be vey Careful.
What You reap is what you sew.
Some crave for all the money in the world, more than enough, more than their share.
And Kick the less fortunate under the curb at every turn.
While some believe in selflessness.
God is watching all of us, scrutinising us very attentively.
Then he drops his Karma.
Be forever cognisant of The Golden Rule.
Renowned American Author and Psychic Sylvia Browne once Projected that 3 terrible Negative Forces Are Responsible for a lot of Bad and Bad Fate in the world-Anger, Pride And Fear.
But I Wish to Argue that She Forgot Greed and Injustice.
The Bottom Line Tough is That Harboring bad forces encourages Bad Karma.
Of Course We Should Never Forget Dishonesty/Hypocrisy -Just Plain Lying/Lies/Deviousness/Divisiveness/Deceit/Maliciousness which seem to be the Order Of The Day These Sad Lonely Some Say Last Days.
I am one of those persons who strongly believe for every good deed we do, a good deed returns to us or to one of our children or grand children.
I had a very good Deceased friend Frederick Sticky Liburd from Bath,
God Bless his dear Departed Heart and Soul, who once relayed to me
That the famous English Cardinal Thomas Woolsey cried on his dying bed;
Heartbroken, Miserable And Betrayed by The Very King he lied and covered up for
And Sacrificed and dedicated his every breath for. Fought for his every whim with true true unwavering dedication:
'If I had only served my God with half the zeal and zest with which I served my King,
I would have been a Much Better Person'.