death

Death? Bring it On!

by DaddyO


Here we are with the dark cloud of death once again permeating the lives of many friends around me and I think it's time for me to respond.

 

Hell, why not take on another unwinnable battle, DaddyO?

 

Death, and especially unexpected death, serves us as a reminder that we must celebrate the lives of everyone around us...now! Not at a later time when death forces us, but at this very moment!

 

When I said "I will be the only one who really wants to be at my funeral who won't be there", I was being serious. Sure my lifeless corpse may lay in state, but the life that once brought joy and provocation to a community of kinksters, and the cognizance that what I am doing to make this world a better place will have vanished.

 

The overwhelming joys along with the devastating pains of life will cease.

The straight line on an EKG tape is a good visual metaphor. No more ups, no more downs. Billy Joel once wrote in the song "Summer Highland Falls" that his life is either "sadness or euphoria." So if the ups and the downs are over, why are those around us sad? I am not calling for euphoria (though there are some of my enemies who undoubtedly will be euphoric at my passing) but at life's end, let us attempt to subdue the sadness and continue onward. If you are reading this, your life has gone on.

 

The funeral, wake, memorial -whatever ya want to call it- is NOT the ONLY time to celebrate one's existence. If someone is important to us, EVERYDAY is that time.

 

So yes, a loved one's death always changes what is going on within the story of our life. In everyday life, if we are a good person, there will be just too many good people surrounding us to adequately convey the honor and gratitude due to them while they are alive and with us. After all, we are busy enjoying the very wonderfulness that we would be giving them accolades for, right? Nonetheless, we must strive to do this.

 

Death is a brutal exclamation point that stops us mid-sentence, punctuates and redirects our future paragraphs, but also sobers us to the realization of the importance of celebrating one's life with them, here and now, while they are still alive and with us.

 

FROM WIKIPEDIA:

Hedonism is a school of thought that argues that pleasure is the only intrinsic good. In very simple terms, a hedonist strives to maximize net pleasure (pleasure minus pain). Ethical hedonism is the idea that all people have the right to do everything in their power to achieve the greatest amount of pleasure possible to them. It is also the idea that every person's pleasure should far surpass their amount of pain.

 

I am a hedonist, but my hedonism extends to to others. Pleasure may be the highest good, but I propose that ethical hedonism must also include the pleasuring of others along with it.

 

In our life's story, if we strive to make death a simple comma, it furthers our capacity to move forward ourselves in writing our own story.

 

When the harsh reality of death slaps us in the face it is a reminder that the only sequel is the one we reveal by passing on our loved one's legacy.

 

The magic of love and life is a true miracle made of indescribable words and phrases. The realness of death is the final page for our loved one. And, like any well bound book, usually two blank pages follow. Use these to create their epitaph and secure their legacy. It may not even be words you use.


Pictures, scribbles and even folds and tears might be apropos. Certainly you've heard the phrase "everyone grieves differently." Just remember when doing so, to uplift the world around you with your tribute.

 

Sometimes a real evil asshole will leave our midst. We share in the responsibility to celebrate the end to their archetype too, Study them as intently. Do not celebrate their lives but celebrate instead the transition of our present culture to a more enlightened understanding. Celebrate the positive assertion of pleasure the entire world experiences because of their demise.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

2014 

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"Two Friends"

Folder: 
Tributes

by Jeph Johnson

 

Two friends in two days died

One from cancer, one suicide
Yesterday and one today
Each of them a different way
To manifest these tragedies
One ravaged physically
The other haunted mentally
But neither succumbed spiritually
For living on eternally
Each of them a different way
Are in our thoughts and memories

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for Colleen and Andrew, 2016 

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"Death of Dad"

by Jeph Johnson

 

My father died
In the arms of my lover;
Something I
Will never do.
But when I die,
If not alone,
It'll be in the arms
Of a lover who
Just won't be her.
It'll likely be
Someone else's
Lover too.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

2017 

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Cascaded Light

Kissed by death, His mark craved deep in my flesh.

Every time I blink I see him standing in front of me.

Every time I take a deep breath I feel him clenching my chest.

Every time I sleep I feel his cold skinless hands dig deep.

I keep waiting for my guardian angel to be revealed.

A blazing bright light making me feel shielded.

You know that light that gleams with the brightness of the sun.

It appears with the sensation of pace, love and fearlessness; making you resilient against the world.

You feel your soul come to an ease and ready to rest.

Yes that is the light I’m longing to see, but it appears to be hidden from me.

My eyes open once again, I wake with a shiver and a quiet voice whispering this is not the end.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

been a while. fixed up a old poem i found.

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MATHEMATICAL PREACHER LADY

don’t understand me
no numeral of quantity
preacher lady looking
at accusations in a book
saying infinity is proof
of a mathematical sacrifice
that saved humanity
if only we could get back
to three and then zero
says quantum physics
is why we have clocks
and space shuttles
slipping through cracks
in the fabrics of blankets
claims blankets are white
masses, says I’m mass
the tree is mass, birds
are mass and a mass
is a spot that breaks
into a speck so small
my car is invisible to god
claims i don’t pray right
because i do it with my
hands and my speech
is imperfect, can’t talk
to god with a slur or slang
says i need to be prized
and perfect like a precious
moment figurine, demands
i stop calling him home boy
he’s not your boy, throws
a piece paper at me with
nothing on it but a squiggle
in the middle of a circle,
claims it represent life
and who i used to be
when i had a brain
and understood counting
was invented for more
than money, need to crunch
the numbers to understand
my sister is the same as me
though she died in a hospital,
tells me i’m better than nobody
but I act like a stranger hiding
my divinity code under a hat

 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is what genuis looks like in a poem!

Patterns

Folder: 
Favorites

 

Patterns,
Repetitions,
Forgotten sequences,
Waiting to break.

 

The wallpaper,
Waits to tear,
The tile,
Waits to crack,
The people,
Wait to die,
The hearts,
Wait to break.

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Frankenstein- Love of my Life

The night was dark and filled with gray

and all I felt  was sorrow and pain

the love of my life was gone at last

killed by the monster who fled very fast,

because I did not commit to the deal

my family did not know how to feel

, and as the days that very soon came

my father sadly passed away,

I fell to my knees feeling very weak

as I tried to speak I couldn’t breathe

So I headed east

Towards the sea

And  met a fellow who could help me

Defeat this beast

That tried to destroy me.

as fate took a turn

I began to wonder

Should I have created life.

I heard a sound and turned around

And suddenly fell to the ground

the beast was there.

And pushed me down

 Just laying there

Feeling nothing but hell

  Tears soon filled the ground

Prophetic Nightmare

This anger inside has rattled my cage

I hide it in a bottle labled rage

I;m sick of its tormenting lies

As it pokes and prys

And searches for a release

It begs pretty please

I keep telling it no, but it gets harder with time

I grab a bottle of tequilla and fuck the lime

I drown my sarrows and shatter my memories

With this broken bottle I sever my arteries

Laying there feeling guilty, I let my soul leave

I sigh and mutter, I just wanted one to believe

My blood's thickening, please just cauterize

'Cause in my final thoughts I finally realize

I take a breath and start to fight

Don't give up, I can see the light

My wife and kids are there crying

Please stop, I'm not dying

Then I hear them praying a prayer

As I look down at my cold dead stare

Laying in my coffin, I know it's too late

But, then I wake up sweating, It's not my fate

I roll over to kiss my wife

She's not there, is this still my life?

Your Love

Holy recital,

Aaliyah's in the booth,

Sounds of heaven, sing sweet to me,

My dreams fade as reality becomes clear to me,

Im not alive and there is nothing even she can do for me.

So sweet, 

Aaliyah is that you feeling me?

Death feels so good to me.

 
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