Long Depressingly Poems

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Memories of Jessie

(A lone voice whispers)

It's early morning as I stand here in our old bedroom 

Listening to my old friends the robins, blackbirds, and thrushes 

The twitterings, tweeting and chirps of wild birds

That now live in my bushes
Mourning 

Mourning
Thinking about my old lover from Peru 

Who once helped carry me through

When my busy life was so blue

Five foot five
Deep brown eyes that seduced you and made you come alive

Crow black hair and a bright playful smile as wide as a country mile

Oh, how I thanked the lord that he had blessed me 

As we slow danced every night before bed
On our back porch 

To Can't Help Falling In Love by the legendary Elvis Presley

And as I stand here
Thinking of her

Picturing her
Beckoning me on to that porch 

Dressed in white
Smiling with an air of sensuality 

Making our life together dazzle with colour

As that famous guy sang
A legend of the Tupelo family

The lingering thoughts that intensely affects me is this

Taking those for granted you love and especially 

Not enjoying each moment spent together could one day be depressingly deadly

I'm just so happy we cherished each moment together

Smiling
Dancing and more importantly 

Talking 

Before the Lord
Unfairly 

Took home 
My beloved Jessie 

Who I still remember 
Whenever I hear

Can't Help Falling In Love by the legendary Elvis Presley 

Foundation.

Cherish each moment together with someone you love

As you make your own life's mini-documentary series 

For one day, unfortunately, whenever you look for them

All that may be left are deep memories 

That could cause pain
No one ever sees 

(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Form: Rhyme


Torment of the Mind: Part Two

Everything in the past that could get her down
Plays in her mind to the sound
Of sweet torture.
It's a scorcher
Like the burning suns rays on a hot day
Traumatic thoughts must have his way

Burn those memories!
Don't allow them to resurface
Find an outlet for your energy
Don't let them make you feel worthless!

Traumatic thoughts depressingly inteferes
Fades away and then reappears
He recalls every failure
All her socially awkward behavior
Scattered in her mind
Stop being so unkind...
To yourself!
Place these memories on a shelf

Tranquilize those memories!
Because they want to resurface
Find an outlet for your energy
You are not worthless!
You are beautiful and bold
Get a hold
Of yourself...
Restore your health.
Form: Didactic

Premium Member The Ways Health Calls

What is the difference
between your highest vocational aspiration
and your better health for all aspirations?

If your answer is
Nothing,
like the sound of two lungs breathing,
then your are on your most promising wealthy journey
into secular with sacred integrity.

There's a health integrity thread 
humane lives follow.

Health grows among natural everyday enchanting things
that spiritually change,
But health,
like love and God, doesn't change.

People wonder about what health-trend you are pursuing,
You explain,
yet again,
about this globally sacred health thread
of wealthiest vocational time.

Health is hard for others to diversely see,
as schools for fish have issues seeing clean, clear water.

Yet, pursuing and perusing slow-grown climate health
is not hard to feel
as a beautiful enchanting thought,
if only also LeftBrain deductively proven
as definitively true
healthy democratic extended family trust.

While you listen for organic health
you can't get vocationally lost
in RightWing elitist messages.

Climate tragedies happen;
people
and plants
and living planets get hurt
and die;
and your climate anxiety suffers
absence of EarthHealth
becoming depressingly old
before your grandchildren's time to thrive.

Nothing you do can stop
time's sacred wealth 
of secular health 
unfolding.

Everything you do can start
time's sacred health
of secular wealth
refolding.

Don't ever let go of this WinWin thread
I AM BEING HEALTH
breathing in 
as wealth breaths 
generously calling out.

Premium Member One-Sided Love

How do you give solace to a girl with a broken heart
when your heart has not yet mended from her falling in love with him?

How do you answer her questions for advice
when you know the best advice to give further damages your chance?

How do you lend a shoulder for her to cry on
when your entire body aches to embrace her lovingly?

How do you listen to her plans for making up
when you wish your friendship could be replaced by romance?

Silently, you suffer the torture of one-sided love.
Stoically, you pretend to be happy as her friend.
Selflessly, you let her go when you desperately want her to stay.
Stupidly, you swallow those three words you want to say.

You try convincing yourself you are happy by her happiness,
even though her happiness with another makes you depressingly sad.

You wear the mask of a brother-like relative
even though the jealously is driving you mad.

To leave her far behind would mean your freedom and your end.
Never to know her as a lover, you will suffer lonely as a friend.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.

Did Their Lives Matter, Part Ii

...And of course who can forget all the
black-on-black we see every day?
More people are killed by such violence
then cops could ever dare take away.
Take all the dead from the rioting
and, depressingly, you will all find
it matches a weekend’s murder count
in Chicago..let that sit in your mind.
Are all their deaths somehow less tragic
because their killers weren’t pale of flesh?
I keep waiting for folks to address this,
but at this point I won’t hold my breath.
Speak of this and all the people bray
that your evil and ‘victim-blaming,’
then they proclaim that ‘Black Lives Matter,’
but ignore their culture isn’t working.

The worst of it, we should acknowledge,
is the two hundred fifty black lives
that are taken from us every day
by the cuts of abortionist knives.
To think of all those young lives cut short
is horrific and so frightening,
think of a medium-sized company
every day up and disappearing.
But if this fact is ever brought up,
these same protestors act all appalled,
they think this means that you ‘hate women,’
that those children have no rights at all!
The fact that half of those kids are girls
never seems to enter into their heads.
They like to say ‘Black Lives Matter,’
but then make their very children dead.

Now the great unifying factor
that binds up all the hypocrisy
is that they only seem to promote
dark-skinned people if they are lefties.
They do not talk of excessive force
when pale people are shot down by cops,
but if it happens in blue cities
then they demand the whole country stop!
They care not for a dark-skinned person
who built up a good life through hard work,
nor the future children of these towns,
nor good people tired on the jerks.
In fact the left resents these people,
since you can’t control virtuous folk,
the only Black Lives that matter to them
are the ones who bring Democrats votes.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Company Monthly Meeting

Every Wednesday my company has a meeting after work.
Not a drinking, carousing, laughing, eating meeting.
Rather a staid, sad, depressing, numbers are down again meeting.
It has taken on a depressingly steady downhill dour attitude for eleven months.

To entertain myself, I study the players.
Chostsy, who wears her dresses too tight, and plays with her legs.
Barney, who perpetually looks at his phone under the table.
Dramada who apparently has no life and never wants to leave.
Just as we start to go, she asks a question.

Only it is not really a question. It is always something more.
A way to obtain accolades, attention, or credit for something.
She likes to be noticed, and apparently has a terrible home life.
She keeps the meeting going for another horrible extra thirty minutes or so.

Every month the same scenario.
One month Barney died, so I looked at my phone under the table.
Dramada raised her hand to ask the question just as we started to rise to leave.
“Sit back down!” the boss instructed us.
Apparently she has nowhere to be either.
I wish they would just stay and chat with each other.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Suicide Mural Part Two

But it didn't quite work out
My lazy eye never worked
And I got depressingly overweight
I could never be a super model
But if I tried just hard enough
I might have been a role model
But the sad truth is
I'm just an out of date model
Expired I'm ready for the trash can
My life is a tapestry of poor decisions
And things one should never do
All I'm leaving behind is my regrets
And things that will always be secret
So I get up and leave this forest
And I walk one last time through my gilded cage
From buildings reaching the sky
To rundown shops in the ghetto
I walk the beach and enjoy the view
I almost drowned in Chesapeake Bay
I got mugged on 19th bay
I met my best friend on 18th Bay
I told the cops my parents died at sea
This is where I was raised
I recall it all half dazed
Because I yearn to know where the time went
How I went from an exuberant youth
To a jaded old man so very fast
It's a blast as if it happened overnight
I suppose I was shackled to everything I wanted to be
And never considered what I actually was
So I take these words and paint them on walls
I climb on rooftops and scream until my lungs hurt
But it does little for my miserable heart
My world was once full of rainbows
But now it's full of blacks and whites I suppose
I stop at the pier and peer out at the sea 
All of these words write themselves in the sky
Upon an invisible wall that stands so tall
And the stanza stretches into the very clouds
And I'm sitting on that wall as high as the clouds
And I peer at everything I'm leaving behind
With my sullen blue eyes
I slowly close my eyes
And it all goes blissfully black

Television As Glorified Citizen Kane

Upon making
     the treacherous
     undertaking optimal
     poetic theme to write
dangerous, and
     arduous foray into
     spooky catacomb, I in vite,
     where fear doth 

     dill liver worst
     trek to our mailbox tonight
risking life and limb 
     at very right
angled turn
     summoning em mon ent
     mettle pluck quite
for quotidian plight,

asper hiding unseen creatures
     sealed in dark shadows
     along the edge of night
way after deep
     into nighttime hours,
     I cautiously slink
     with steely might
thru barely adequate light

even for this healthy
     as an ox good knight
relying on a Jack o'lantern
     designed jacklight
with superb vision,
     and supreme insight
steadily held above
     mine five feet and

     ten inches average height
espy spilling thru underneath
     securely eye 
     booked deal lee shut tight
locked heavy metal doors,
     a faint glimmer
    sans gaslight
possibly from blaring,

     flashing, and placating
     television screen se
essentially keeping curmudgeonly
     aged residents company,
     while reminiscent nostalgic
     "FAKE" memories take flight
as such wistful 
     foregone reflections

     upon the gift of
     a watermelon pickle excite,
viz the cobwebbed 
     whirled wide
     give "tearful", though
     pained years gone by
     blinkered back teary delight
a hermetically sealed story,

     one will never
     get ghost written, nor
     affixed with a copyright
depressingly clamped 
     down inescapable
     emotionally stagnating
     autobiographical blight.

Premium Member A Diabolical Unnatural Halloween

It was a DIABOLICAL night; trick-or-treaters as ALIEN to 2020 as anything.
No one on the street, jack-o-lanterns absent, no BLOOD curling scream.
What TRICKERY is this? Recently dug up previous sleeping VAMPIRES asked.
HALLOWEEN night, and no parents following children, heavily wine-flasked?

It is with a CAUTIONARY attitude I even tell you this sordid horrible tale.
An ABDUCTION of the regular festivities, caused by a pandemic’s loud wail.
Started in China by far-away bat FEASTING folk, whose identity is cloaked.
Ten months later, in America this is no joke as 225,000 have croaked. 

A diabolical night, trick-or-treaters nowhere to be found on the street.
Candy consumed in houses by people who are almost too fearful to eat.
This is not the way Halloween is ever and I mean ever supposed to be.
We are practically PARALYZED, but we are doing the best to pretend normalcy.

The vampires, ghouls, ghosts and witches galore are waiting in the wings.
Hoping that next year we will return to our usual antics and holiday sings.
Optimistic we will experience this horribly depressingly abduction again, 
Let’s pray this Covid-19 gets taken to a burial place, carried by galaxy wind.

Written 10-25-2020
Contest: Halloween Challenge
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Word bank: alien, vampires, Halloween, blood, trickery, abduction, feasting, 
                     cautionary, paralyzed, diabolical
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Seventy-Five Years of Seeking Peace

For 75 years Israel has offered peace to her neighbors
   the Arab response, 'Never!' -- be Israel's leaders Likud or Labor

 From 1948 to 1967, before 'territories,' before 'occupation'
   when Israel was an almost indefensible sliver of a nation

 The Arabs promised time and again to 'throw the Jews into the sea'
   There was no 'West Bank' or Gaza, they meant Haifa and Tel Aviv
   
 From ’48 on, Egypt and Jordan have kept Palestinians in refugee camps
   And, O, how the pressure from the world has climbed up the ramp

 Zionism became racism, Jews the ‘evil oppressors’
   In 1956, ’67, ’73, ’82, ’87, 2000, the Arabs waged war and intifadas to 
                                        become our successors 

 Under Rabin and again under Barak, Israel offered Palestinians a state
   over 90% of Gaza and the ‘West Bank,’ Pres. Clinton said ‘That’s great!’ 

 But Yasir Arafat said Never! His one and only goal was to kill all the Jews
   --It had gotten to be depressingly old news

 In 2005, Arik Sharon pulled out of Gaza, no more ‘Israeli occupation’ there
   What happened next? Hamas took over, but the world didn’t care …

 In 2023 Israel’s still termed ‘the occupier’ – by Arab sympathizers
   But after the Oct. 07 atrocities, the game’s up for them 
                                        ~ 75 years of peace offers just expired
Form: Couplet

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