# Loss
MEMORIES ARE BURNED
Memories are burned
into Mamma's mind
of the son who
never returned.
Yes, it's true,
the freedoms that bind
us together
had a steep price.
The price of blood and
memories that are burned
into Mamma's mind.
VINCENT DIED JULY 29
VINCENT VAN GOGH
Oh Vincent, too soon you said goodbye
Each time your love rejected, emotions set awry
Your hand above, the lamps hot flame
To prove in time, your love won’t wane
Each failure then, became your bane
That memory faded, but love, came not again
Your brothers love, the only one
Throughout your life, you counted on
And those few friends, which once were close
Each in their turn, did you dispose
Like those bad seeds “The Sower” threw
Were tossed aside, and never grew
Regressing shades, of grey from white
Lights that flickered, through the night
You became a somber, tortured soul
You tried but could not, find your role
The acceptance, which you hoped to find
With each descent, you lost your mind
On your release, from “Madhouse Garden”
Your senses dulled, your “Sorrow” hardened
You still envisioned, “Flowering Orchards” blooming
Contrasting days, frustrations looming
Shadows formed, in weightless plumes
From the “Old Cemetery Tower” and its tombs
Soon days of joy, your senses rouse
Bringing renovations, to “The Yellow House”
Long travels through, the countryside
Those paintings that, you did with pride
Enormous swings, from “Wheatfield’s In Rain”
To “Wheatfield With Crows”, that caused you pain
For years you searched, just to belong
Your madness proved, your choices wrong
So for Gauguin, your friend and peer
For his desertion, a severed ear
Then, long drunken hours, at “The Night Cafe”
A “Man In Sorrow” on display
Like a “Windbeaten Tree” your emotions bared
Your faith now lost, but no one cared
Your world then flares, into sweeping swirls
As “The Starry Night” its hues unfurls
Beneath the sky “Sunflowers” so bright
But yet again, the dark sides blight
Those years of struggle, to regain your sanity
Brought your biggest loss, trust in humanity
So with colors dark, the image jaded
Your love and dreams, then finally faded
And now you weep “At Eternity’s Gate”
Your field of dreams, await their fate
AND SO
The moral of his life
Now becomes, four fold
And lessons not then learned
Shall now by me, be told
When you lose in love
Your hand, you should not burn
Just because, it’s fried and crispy
It’s not, “KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN” Vern
Always, to your friends
Try to lend an ear
Just, don’t chop it off
And gift it, as a souvenir
If life just drives you crazy
And painting, keeps you sane
Just pretend, you’re painting life
And drink lots of champagne
When you’re young and life’s gone bad
Don’t put your life on hold
You do not need, to kill yourself
Unless, you’re really old
But no moral, can be learned
By committing suicide
Cause you can’t dream, nor paint your dream
Now, that you have died
BOEMS BY JA 299
Joel
You fled from me as the hypnotic charm did from February that year
That year, still amongst the age of fluffiness and lush green gardens
I see you with marbles in your hand and true happiness in your eyes
I hear you clinging to the crochet wood calling to me
Always calling to me; sweetly, softly
With bare feet you were veiled under the falling leaves
Without a word, without as much as a black and white ending
A bleeding heart and a single tear behind the moving glass
Left with the marble in my hand and a montage flickering behind my eyes
Always calling to me; rudely, harshly
An empty swing, an empty house beyond the fence
The plentiful garden was dwindling as the shimmering filter was removed
True sight came to the young blind, as mature mouths remained shut
Left with the marble which did not cushion the hurt to my eyes
Always calling to me; nightly, daily
Our mouths must be thrust ajar, one must relinquish
The pricking, solitary cold compelled me to surrender and take pen to paper
With the marble in one hand and thawed snowflakes upon my rosy cheeks
I spill to you
“Where did you go?”
“Remember you would call to me, always call to me; sweetly, softly?”