wAche

Did you have a poem planned for my memorial service

I bet you will never ever tell me what it is

Inevitability says I will never hear it

Unless of course you believe the inevitable allows one’s witness

It hurts you know, knowing this end

All that will be missed, the lives shared, the life we may have shared

In truth I did try, I truly did and did so in truth

Yet the inevitability of who and what we are

Well it just was never going to work to our end was it

And now it is ending.  I can feel the life ebb

My vessel growing weak with age, the pain

God, I will miss so much

Yet, I am grateful.  There is so much left behind

And all of it, you, these stories, this experience, me

All of it a collective memory

To become the lore, my legend, to be passed until generations forget

Be kind to me, in your poem

Be kind please.

Fact

Truth is an end to itself

It requires no other justification

Affable the lie

Yet it leaves a line of desolation

Beginning with self

And destroying the trust

Finishing with loved

Finally destroying self again

Honest sincere frank candid

These things can all so hurt

But they are also truth

And thus requires

No other

Many sides thus

Pain and freedom assured

Only through acceptance

Of truth only

Cautivar

A fractional second to fractural limb
Caught!
A memory so vivid……clunk, whining steel on steel, rust flakes expunged, hope against reality, pain, grief.
OMG says who, trapped.
And now what?
Some necrotic enthraller shall feast?
Prey pray give thanks
Bless us oh Lord for these gifts
Really not
Reality is equivalence is far better
No wish of possession a desire for loyalty
Parity this exchange and remaining change
Is the sharing

Imprecate Exhibit

What circus will you attend

Three rings of activity

A jugglers act of showmanship

The greatest show ever

But your audience is confused

What, they ask

Is the precise point

None needed one supposes

The comedy is license

To perform radical works

In vain understanding

That no one thespian

Will know what they do

They will perform in their art

To accolades and critical acclaim
Hurrah to you
Wonder from them
Wondering then what they see and ascertain

Living hand to mouth

For acceptance

And understanding

Gone then into oblivion

Further than ever past

With hope to return once again

To be in the evermore

Imprecate Isolate

This mind fills with noise

And meaning

Understood and misunderstood

It craves the natural solitude

Please be silent

This space is overfilled

And needs expansion once again

Stay close from afar

Or afar if unable

Will they be there

When once again they are ready

Or will solitude exhume

A nation of seclusion

Going through the actions

With vain hope of being noticed