Ashen grey is the house of remembering. 
Before each portal opens, 
your faceless bard swoons. 

He strikes a drum of bone and brittle whispers;

With cracked powd’ry fingers, 

he inscribes your name in dust.

He etches it longer than it ever was, 
the curves of your urn. 
You gather there your ashes and nourish my soul.

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In the quiet aftermath, the word "quit" echoes,  

A heavy silence in the corridors of memory.  

A single word, a door to myriad pathways,  

Each avenue intertwining, meandering through the fog.

Clues lie hidden in the shadows cast by our verses,  

Fleeting glimpses of understanding,  

Yet certainty eludes us, at every turn it seems:

Answers remain just out of reach.

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Death is a heartless Bastard!

A rotten, snarling thief!

And all that remains

are feeble words

and emptiness.

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Numb. 

Dry and numb. 

Grief cannot be duplicated, though it can be felt, again and again. 

We’ll just go to sleep and never cry again. so it shall be dreamed, not wept. 

It will fade, but right now, we sleep. 

Numb and dry. 

Numb.

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This is me
Trying to write about you
But there’s too much pain
Too much sadness
I still don’t understand.
The words don’t come
The sounds don’t flow
I just really miss you so.

Backdated 10/8/19

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In Memoriam

The gravestones in this place are wet with tears

Of children, wives and husbands who have stood

Beside dark holes that swallow up their fears

Replacing ice water where once flowed blood.

November skies are grey and hold no lights,

The flowers flattened in a winter gale

That whips away dark thoughts the widow fights

To keep hidden behind her mourning veil.

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You do not exist anymore 

Scientifically speaking, 

You are absolutely nothing 

Unconscious, intangible, not there. 

You exist in my mind, 

Poetically speaking, 

You live on through that funny anecdote

Or recipe, your legacy, our memory.  

You are my tragic backstory, 

Therapeutically speaking, 

The key to solving why I am the way I am 

What you made me w...

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You think that time would make it easier and maybe I'd just forget.
I still think about that day often but I'm starting to think about it less.

I don't know if I should feel guilty because you're not always on my mind.
Or maybe that's just what happens when you've been gone such a long time.

I do wonder if you'd be proud of me and the things that I've done.
Would you tell me that you're h...

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Clock out, start my car and check my phone.
I look down, see a text "Hey, you doing okay bro?"
Confused and realizing I missed about 12 calls.
Didn't know what was going on, nothing was clear,
*Incoming call from 'enter name here'*.
I answered "Hey what's up?" and then I heard the tears.
"What's going on? What did I miss? Are you alright?"
'You didn't hear? She was driving and passed away l...

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She is long gone

So long I have to strain to hear her voice

Down the years

The last thing she said to me though 

Clear as day

Like the sun through mists of dawn 

‘Oh Janey’

An unexpected heartfelt sigh

Two words could not contain more depth

For she was lost to me long before

She left this earth

Or so I thought

Until the parting of the clouds

So brief

To gi...

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I see it everywhere,

being laughed about, tormented

“Ha! Triggered!”

If only it could be prevented.

This generation needs to grow up

stop being so damn sensitive

a bunch of babies who can’t cope

well how about you stop being so damn negative?

“Kill yourself!”

Ha, wait, is that a trigger?

Not yet, but it will be

when you realize you’re the killer

...

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A farewell to two poets that have only just passed on: Sandra Fowler and Sonya Florentino. R.I.P., dear friends.

 

`



Yes, I will try to be brave
just like you'd want me to be;
here I am waiting on shared memory:


Dear old friend, where might you be?
And where is it that we have arrived:
now we're quickly fading into oft-turned pag...

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`

I walk from room to room
and try to catch a glimpse of you,
but all that I could see,
are muted shadows playing tag.

Sunlight catches visions
of days now stored in memory
and with your recent passing,
you climbed upon the misty crag.

The kitchen tap still leaks,
we've fixed that oft and time again;
your trusty stove still works,
those smells a...

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