Distance from that point of entry: A special something

Date line: I ferget!

Random motions in a typical dream, an ocean of violence in bloom,
The world seems magical, almost comical,
A realization that the minute you are a born, you’re a minute closer to death,
As a child, it scares you, to think of such things, to die,
Then someone,
Your heart
Your soul,
Dies,
The worse moment than your own death,
You continue on,
Why?
You will ask yourself,
It happens,
People around you,
Don’t understand,
How can you say such things,
It is great to be alive,
But is it?
Without a heart,
Without a soul?

You will find someone,
Maybe a few someone,
But that moment,
Will be the end of your world.

You will not see the beauty anymore,
The fear won’t be there either,
You will be ready for that moment of passing,
But Jesus for some reason,
Will keep you alive,
Mostly to fuck with you,
Jesus is good at that,
God is even better,
“See my power, my will, to keep you going,
Why? Cause I can!!
Haha!”

Don’t believe me,
Lose your heart,
Lose your soul,
Lose that reason you stay alive for,
Then you will discover,
The true meaning,
The true place that is Hell.

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A death of a smile one day: A POEM

Not to touch the sky,
To feel that misery,
Deep in the Earth,
A life,
Lies,
Oh brother,
Can you see the falling of the trees,
Into the ground,
Not to see the sun?

There,
Up on the Dark Hill,
Stands a house,
Misery of pained life,
Burning in the sun,
Run,
Oh fellow of that house,
Run,
Do not fear the reaper,
Do not know the fear,
Run,
Silently,
Run to nothing,
Feel the sun,
The sounds of the dying,
Breathless murders,
In happy fields,
Lies of golden tongues,
Killing spree,
Jesus Fucking Nuns,
Beasts,
Crawling towards the edge,
Happy pills,
To keep the fears out of our brains,
Mine,
Mine,
Dance,
Fly,
Off burning cliffs,
Into crashing waves,
Oh the life,
Draining,
Into rage,
Rage,
Rage against the dying light
The machinery of life,
Oh fuck…

To slip into that last morning dawn’s early light

We laid there, our souls facing the rising sun,
To feel those rays, into our bodies,
Into our minds,
To feel its grace,
The dying inside of us,
Wanted out,
But could not be free,
As the meat survived.

We wept in memories,
Of those who had gone before,
Way too soon,
Wept the mourners at Jerry’s wake,
He died of cancer at 23.
Who really wants to live forever,
In some never ending horror fever dream?
Lost loves,
To God’s embrace they say,
Screw God, give them back to me!

A DIRE NEED FOR ACID RAIN: A POEM

I don’t want to feel the shame,
To feel the same,
Don’t want to be in pain,
Ashamed,
Inside myself,
Feeling rage,
Against the stage,
Trying to stop the wars,
Inside myself,
A memory,
Of whispers,
A sigh,
In that rain,
Against the broken showers,
In a tower,
A nightmare,
Of dancing metal frames.

I held your face,
In my hands,
A dream of breathing shallow,
It was my decision,
Oh how I kill myself for it,
To pull that plug,
My dear love,
To live with that decision,
I fell to pieces,
That unholy day.

MOCKINGBIRDS LIE: An Introduction to a Main Character.

Here in the tall willows, away from the eyes, the mockingbirds dare lie, they whisper in tunes, a hi, a hi.

Cindy laid in the tall grass, holding her doll, wishing it was real or this whole life was a dream.

Her brother had been killed in a war, Vietnam, her mother had cried there in the kitchen.

Cindy tried not to cry as she ran out of the kitchen, the tears were beginning to fly.

It wasn’t fair.

He was only 19.

He had told her he would come home alive.

He promised.

He lied.

There he laid, in that box, a shell, a corpse.

Cindy didn’t want to go to his funeral.

But she did.

Mother needed her support.

She had told Cindy that as Cindy sat in the back seat of the car, heading to the funeral home.

A flag covered the casket as it sat there, waiting to be lowered into the grave.

Mother never spoke of it again.

Cindy would hear her late at night, crying, for many years.

“I’ll be okay!” she told Cindy as she prepared to leave for her college.

Cindy got a call from her town’s sheriff, her mother decided to join Cindy’s brother by overdosing on sleeping pills and alcohol.

Another head stone to wait.

Cindy didn’t cry.

She shook friends’ hands at the wake.

“She was a good woman, she was strong…”

Cindy hated it, standing there, pretending her mother was strong.

Cindy was the last of the tribe, didn’t want to be, her father died before she was three.

She shut down, closed up, lied, said she was okay, Mother was with God and Cindy’s brother, but she wasn’t fine.

Mother lied.

Everyone dies.

She sat in the lonely quiet home, sitting on the floor, playing with that same doll, wishing she was real.

Was this life?

Just to lie, “I’m okay, don’t worry about me!”?

Cindy went to bed, to dream of a better time.

1684,
Number on the door,
Wine,
Drunk like water,
To drive that madness away,
Angry young men,
Waiting for the end,
A somber moment,
Oh drifting softly by,
To see,
That sea,
Oh hairy lies,
To feel alive,
In cosmic lights,
Drifting through angels,
Alive,
Oh beauty,
Oh father,
Oh mother,
Dying
On the vine,
A herald,
To hear,
A final sigh,
Angry young fucks,
Crying in the night,
Blasphemy,
In midnight hour,
To revel,
In made up words,
Of life,
Lies,
And simple things!

HIGH: A Poem

I laid there,
Melting there into the carpet,
A dream like trance,
A nightmare in fantasy land,
I felt the world spinning around me,
Chaos,
Madness,
Jesus was there,
Melting into Heaven’s gate with me,
We were souls,
Drifting through time and space.

The light began to fade,
I still thought I was a shrimp,
In a stormy sea,
Being eaten by Moby Dick,
Oh Henry,
My Henry,
Did you see the dying of the light?
Margie died,
Last night,
Cancer took her brain,
She was only 45.

I tried to stand,
But fell back to my knees,
Wasn’t a prayer I uttered from my dry lips,
Cursed be to any God,
As Jesus swore the same,
We’d never die again!

A Practice in Life: A Random Poem

Ice cold beer,
What the fuck are we doing here?
Mother is dying, somewhere,
Maybe father knows where?

Trumpets blues,
Harvard and 9th,
Jesus died for somebody’s sin,
Who here is revealing sins?

July 12th,
World is pulling apart,
Reaching for the top,
While sinking to the bottom.
We were standing there,
Waiting for a bus,
Never comes,
Doesn’t say much,
For our transportation!

Rust,
Lost in trust,
Who here has a buck?

Gives a fuck?

Balloons falling through the waterfall,
We cannot see the bottom,
Trust faith?
Die before you hit the floor.

Type,
Type,
Words on the screen,
Jesus,
Who sees?
Who hears?
The blind lead the dead.

A GOOD DAY: Story about life and how it ends.

In a few years, I would be dead, a memory in some data bank, possibly even erased, to make room for those still alive.

The sky was gray; overcast, as I walked the two miles from my house to the beach, the wind hitting my face hard.

“Lyle?” a voice crept from my memories; July 12th, two years, maybe three years ago, I was seventeen, Aunt Tilda was dying; I couldn’t see her then, there at the hospital.

My mother was dying too, both of cancer. I tried to see them but I couldn’t, I was sick, the flu, I think, my father let me peek at them through the window of their rooms. Both laughed and waved.

I waved back.

When I die, I hope there is someone there to wave at me; a small glimmer of hope before the end.

I wrote a letter to mother; father gave it to her, please come home, I will make Chester pudding for you and father.

She never came home; died on the 20th of July.

Aunt Tilda on the 21st.

I sat there on the beach.

I did not think about death as the waves crashed to the shore.

I thought about life.

It was a good day.

Fly: A POEM

We flew,
To touch the sky,
To go where no one could touch us,
To bring us down,
To fly,
To sing,
Upon gilded wings,
We flew,
To find ourselves,
Among the clouds,
We saw,
The Heaven’s angels,
Singing to us,
As our wings brought us,
To that bliss,
Among the clouds,
So high above,
To softly drift,
Our life was ours,
To do as we wished,
To fly,
Dear ones,
To fly.