peaceful
In the Garden
My bones now brittle, my soul compromised,
I relinquish my sins to the Devil.
Take me Dark Lord, Let me live by your side,
Give me sustenance to rid my affliction.
Yea, though I walk in a pestilent Garden,
I will sow all your seeds of despair...
The righteous condeemed to eternal damnation,
Their souls weeping blindly, in the abscess of time.
Wrap my ankles in ivy, pull me down in the darkness,
Let me live in the blackness of hell..
No more shall I weep to a mythical creature...
My bones forever sown,
"In the Garden."
by Barry Anderson
A Breeze of Memory
A graveyard of dead trees
Fallen leaves of vast red and orange seas
Squirrels scurry before winter strikes
As children play while others pass on bikes
A harmony of the trees an the wind come together and sing
As a bird chirps then stops to clean it's wing
Children shrieking and screaming as they play
Angry armies of cars roar past, then fly away
Memories start of when I was a kid
Only broken away by time an what it did
Sitting still only in question
Of who I am and to what is my impression
I laughed . . . I played here
I was happy unknown of fear
But then reality again breaks memory's connection
Only to be lost again, still unknown of my reflection
rolling thunder
i remember being little
and going to viewings,
thinking about how the casket
always looked so comfortable
and soft, with it's satin lining
and soft satin pillow. the
bodies always looked
the same, just asleep,
and rather peaceful.
catholic viewings were
especially boring if
they chose to say the rosary
in the heavy, thick
atmosphere, with
intervals in betwen the
occasional nose blowing
and sniffling of a
weeping relative, or
wailing hysterics of a
child or mother overcome
with sorrow while being
forced to face the reality
of the situation.
today when i hear a
motorcycle pass me
it sometimes brings
back the 'rolling thunder'
of monotone voices
saying the rosary...
...except without the
weeping and wailing.
11:11 PM 5/8/2013 ©
Comatose
Dancing in another space, unwilling to turn around,
Playing games, taunting this place,
Knowing your life is no longer a race to the finish,
All debts and debtors relinquished,
Laughing for a short moment while the time is ripe,
Watching your body lie still on the bed
While you can't help but feel compassion
For those left behind,
If they only knew your mind,
The beauty you now know is beyond the flesh,
You try repeatedly to tell them it's ok,
And that they aren't losing their minds
If they hear you, but only one or two take heed.
You wait for months, every nervous twitch seen
Seems to make them think you are coming back,
But I hear you...that it is way too nice where you are going,
And there is no turning back,
Some of us sense your desire to tell them,
And wish I could tell them for you,
We can only be here,
We cannot speak for you,
You must find a way to make them understand,
Or just make an exit and bid farewell to this land.
3:00 AM 4/20/2013 ©