dead

OUR LAST.

It is you, my son,
my first thoughts think on
at dawn's dull light;

 

it is you I hope to see
in dark dreams at night,
it of you my last thoughts hold

 

as I drift to my drugged sleep;
memories of you
I hold and keep;

 

years of yore,
of childhood days,
holidays and day

 

to day visits,
wishing things were
as they were before.

 

It is loss of you,
my son, that wounds
my heart, that tears

 

open and apart,
that final time
we spoke, solemn,

 

you in pain,
no light heartedness,
no humour, no joke.  

 

It is of you my son,
my mind returns to,
and the loss reminds me

 

of our mortal state,
moment to moment
ticking by, taking

 

for granted each day
we live, each person
we love, each kiss,

 

each exchange
of words we cast,
not thinking each

may be our last.

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DREAMED

I dreamed
of you
last night.

 

Not the 29 year
old you
who died

 

as I held
your hand,
but the

 

younger you,
the young kid
with the smile

 

and big
blue eyes,
the adventurous

 

you, the climber,
the you
in the cowboy hat

 

and gun,
the blue
eyed you,

 

the one
mischievous
for fun.

 

I dreamed
of you
last night.

 

Not the 29
year old who
died and flat-lined

 

my heart, but
the younger you,
big eyes of blue,

 

that one,
that you,
my son.

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Enter My Fear

All of the welcoming emotion suddenly dies.
and the darkness shrouds the land in only misery's cries.

 

Enter grief!
A timeless ocean. 
Trapped of despair, trapped without relief
Enter the moon!
Endless racing of the thoughts.
Including you alone, trapped dead inside an empty room

The dead is holding you stiff once more!
Staring into your eyes, never have you felt so gone before

The time comes again, to pit against all that is you
Will you ever find the part of you that is actually true?

Paint the sky bleak
Consider everything we cannot speak

The one painting with the sun I painted as a child is lost.
Reality has broken the barrier, this is the ultimate cost



 

Counsel's Christmas Bargain

 

Christmas on death row, surreal,

Being despised by all the world,

Hate surrounding all you feel,

Yet at your core,

You're not unfurled.

 

 

Ask me to be sorry 

For a wrong I did not do,

Who is being forgiven 

Is it me?

Or is it you?

 

 

There's no issues with forgiveness,

I'm a sinner, just like you,

Reminded in my every breath,

I ponder this,

Do you?

 

 

Ask me to be sorry 

For a wrong I did not do,

Who is being forgiven 

Is it me?

Or is it you?

 

 

My trial now awaits me,

And you're asking for remorse,

Do you have the sense to realize that

You've written me discourse?

 

 

Ask me to be sorry 

For a wrong I did not do,

Who is being forgiven 

Is it me?

Or is it you?

 

 

Integrity is what becomes

Of living in ones truth,

To urinate upon the stand 

Is more than just uncouth.

 

 

Ask me to be sorry 

For a wrong I did not do,

Who is being forgiven 

Is it me?

Or is it you?

 

 

So as the hate surrounds me

And I ponder things so real,

I turn my back upon the jabs 

As you inflict this as a "deal".

 

 

Ask me to be sorry 

For a wrong I did not do,

Who is being forgiven 

Is it me?

Or is it you?

 

 

I know this label in your mind,

Can never be erased,

The difference between us,

You and me,

Is what's left when I look in your face.

 

 

Ask me to be sorry 

For a wrong I did not do,

Who is being forgiven 

Is it me?

Or is it you?

 

 

You ask of me to sell my soul,

As yours lay rancid fermenting,

I have the time to ponder such things,

Though I'm weary of lamenting.

 

 

Ask me to be sorry 

For a wrong I did not do,

Who is being forgiven 

Is it me?

Or is it you?

 

 

So this is my life,

My death,

My plight,

My life has taken stand,

And though I'm only 17,

I'm asked to be a man.

To see the ugliness, so stark,

So glaring,

Cold, remiss,

You've sealed my fate without a conscience,

To your own soul's death wish.

 

 

 

Ask me to be sorry 

For a wrong I did not do,

Who is being forgiven 

Is it me....?

 

 

Or is it you?

 

 

.....

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Christmas poem for the wrongly condemned.

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Deadly Madness

Folder: 
Thoughts

Dead I feel,

Dead I went.

They murdered me,

Me and my husband.

 

My greatest enemy,

Who created the matrix.

Deja vu all over again,

When I delve into my madness.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Some thoughts about my delirium.

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Dead Universe

Folder: 
Cthulhu Mythos

We are walking corpses,

Zombies at best

How can I enjoy?

That what falls apart?

 

Great Pyramid

And feast of Nitokris

The Ghoul-Queen

Married to Kephren.

 

All are dead, dead,

Nothing alive, so sad.

Gods and man alike

In a murdered universe...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mythos poem.

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Dead Rat

Folder: 
Dreams

There was a stuffed rat with me,

But I was scared of it, see?

It was brown, it had black eyes

And I had to eat it alive!

 

But alive it was not,

It was dead, it was rot.

It scared the hell out of me,

It made me shiver, made me cold.

 

Why I have such dreams?

Of terror and dead things.

Do they come forth from him?

Or am I really a monster within?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A dream I had about a dead rat.

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Dead Meat

Folder: 
Thoughts

Dead meat,

Is what you eat.

Nothing alive,

It is not wise.

 

I don't know the reason,

But I know the cause.

It is rotten, it is corrupted,

And will drive a man mad.

 

Madness comes from eating brains,

I ain't no cannibal at late.

But eating meat I have to do,

Or certain things I can't see.

 

Blood is very good,

I have no Vampire mood.

But cruel some call,

What I describe at all.

 

My mind going ways,

With meat these days.

Demons, Ghoulies and the rest,

Outsiders are a real pest!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Some thoughts.

Dead Girl

Folder: 
Cthulhu Mythos

A father took a silver platter,

Full of delicious foods

And brought it to the cellar,

To feed its dead girl thereof.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mythos poem.

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