Posts Tagged ‘writing’

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…

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Distance

Posted: October 12, 2022 in depression, fiction, Suicide
Tags: , , , , ,

A silent scream,
Madness inherited into that deep sleep they shall not wake,
We were nothing,
Slight fantasies as they,
The prophets,
Began to sacrifice the sacred cow,
The blood ran like a river to hell,
A memory adrift in a sea of misery,
We have cast the dice,
To land where they may,
Life,
A chance of great,
Hate,
Simple meal with a long dead saint,
A last eternal sleep,
There we shall ride,
Straight to the blade of suicide,
Where the mount shall bound,
To send us to Hell…

We stood in the darkness, our eyes adjusting,
Rage, hate, bitterness,
Washed away in distant memories,
Oh madness, oh madness,
Blight on the heights,
Of raging waves,
Smashed against the beaches,
Life,
Nobody gets out of here alive,
Whispers in the midnight,
Lovers plotting revenge on hated life,
Oh mother,
Oh father,
Oh sister,
Oh brother,
Call out to that madness,
Alive!!
Alive to see the breaking of the day,
Misery,
Sigh,
Are tossed aside,
In bitter storms,
To fight with tooth,
And to fight with nail,
To see that breaking of that day!

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!

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.

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!

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!

Somewhere outside of a bottle of a tequila, a monkey decided to grow wings and become a fairy of mass portions.

Little Rock was dying, Tulsa was next, America was a scene, somewhere outside reality, as I sat there, after taking a few edibles of various strength.

“Is this death?” Mary shouted from the top of the tower, leaning towards the right.

I shrugged as the world span out of control into the sun, seconds at a time.

It would seem the world would end in 30 billion years or a month, matters on how fast it could spin, fleeing, into that fiery ball of enraged senators.

Henry Parker, the man behind the illusion of reality, was sitting here too. His hands grasped the bottle of tequila like it was a religious experience.

“I saw Jesus back there!” Mary said as she settled back in the back seat of the car. She was high or so said her agent as he put her into the car.

Vegas, land of the unholy wild chief iguanas was boiling in its own skin.

“Beer!” Mary roared as she fled into the casino.

We never saw her again.

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.