You lay there
on the bed
with tubes and wires
coming from body and head.  


Tubes from mouth and nose,
eyes, those large eyes,
bright, laughing, kind,
now closed seemingly
in deep sleep.


You unaware
we were there,
we who loved you
and would have tipped
the scales of the world
to have you safe
and back with us,
who would have given you
limbs or body parts or eyes,
would have searched
the dark corridors of death
to have brought you back,
back with us, us whom
you loved and who loved you.


You lay there still and silent,
the day unfolding,
the artificial light betraying
the hours passing,
the minutes ticking away,
the hushed conversations
between us who watched
and waited, talks to you,
the telling of how things
had been and would be again;
clutching at hope like some rope,
wishing you on, watching
the dials of the machine,
the flashing lights, the hums,
the sounds, and you so still,
Stoic until the end, your
puffed up body, tinged with blue;
your hands, warm, soft,
which we took turns to hold,
arms which would have once
embraced, now still, unmoving,
touched, as if we might wake you,
see your large eyes open,
that hint of a smile, your smile,
that infamous smile and spread of lips.


You lay on the bed, tubed and wired,
unaware we were there watching
from the shore towards a deep sea
of approaching dark unbelievable death,
or maybe you were aware of us
standing or sitting there, taking
your last walk amongst us, unseen,
touching us, brushing a hand
against us as you passed,
and we unaware of you going by,
right until the last second of time
as we watched you die.

View dadio's Full Portfolio

Monsters In The Dark

Now listen to what I have to say

For the wicked hide in the shadows of this day


You know nothing of what is of me

You may know the color of my eyes

But not of what they are capable to see


Now here, I've warned this upon you

For not every smile is ever true


Everything is not set in stone

You may say there is an answer

When nothing is completely known


Close your eyes, please understand

That what you may rely on is a blood-thirsty hand


Unknown of what they truly are

Watch think before you turn and talk

Someone so close to you can be so far


So remember before you go on and say

"But why would anyone do this to me anyway?"


Human nature can be full of evil and greed

Unwatched, A monster born within the shadows, full only of self pleasure and need.


Fearing for the breath I've wasted,

partnerships I've complicated,

feelings spoken, understated,

notes that had been mistranslated;

I thought it best to rein by choice

the strident mewling of my voice

and after which I could rejoice,

as those I'd lost returned to me.

Like waves colliding with the shore,

my words will light upon their door

and press themselves against the floor

to pass beneath and beg, implore

their presence to return to mine.

View sivus's Full Portfolio

Never-Ending Story

I really do want to believe it's all here,

That it's real, and that it is as great as everyone thinks it is,
Strong and indestructable,

Powerful with meaning and substance,

So that I too, exist here, but why?
These objects made of wood, steel and concrete, glass and fibers,
Clawing an scratching at my spirit day and night,
Begging for my touch to make them real,
And walls, walls, walls, that separate,
Real as this figment of my own imagination
Who I call myself, the existential being I believe I am,
The objects speak in tongues,
And languages unheard of
But understood with senses forbidden
And cast away from what man has deemed to be 'real',
And objects, material objects, jumping out at me,
Talking teapots, spoons and candlesticks,
From stories out of the depths of another's inner world,
Jumping into my world! How dare they come without knocking!
What is it they want? What are they asking?
"We are here just like you", they said,
"Why do you want to be here?"
So I replied, "Why do I want? Maybe I should just be!"
And so from then on I began to just be.

In case I should ever again need a shrink,
I shall first consult the kitchen sink.


4:21 AM 4/18/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The illusion called life.

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio