Death Haiku and Poem

Death is not horror
Living through someone’s death is
Misery we fear


Don’t cry for the dead
Smile for life that has blossomed
To die is to change


Flower fades in time
The blossom is most precious
As first petal falls


Your tears are diamonds
Shed for my broken body
Heaven is my gem


My death is rebirth
Change in energy
Frozen to freedom
Difference between
Carbon and diamonds

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This is Evil

peacepeAce
does not feaR men or guns.

time will have its perFect results of heaven.
our God will not abIde craven idolatry:
murderous sacrifice oF our innocent children,
worship of weapons insTead of His power on high,
grEed,
thEft,
a complete abadonmeNt of morals or wisdom.
keep your thoughtS and prayers alive

with actionS of this body
stalk and storm Halls of justice
with your powerful autOmatic voices of reason
attack vaUlts of law
where this Love of guns
is stored and protecteD by evil money and favor

oust and roust, Bust virtue out
kill the silencE of idling hands

demand safer lives wIth cautious liberty.
turn over the tables of destiny by eLecting those who should die for you
rather than kiLl in your names.
in thE name
of God,
peAce
should never be down the dark barreL of a privately-purchased democracy.


AR-FIFTEENS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL.

This is an acrostic poem, aligned in the center.
The center column has an equal number of letters on either side in each line.
The power in this country rests in the hands of those with guns and money.
It should rest on the peaceful people.


If you need a gun to protect what you have?
You don’t have what you need.


AR-15s should not be made legally available to murder 15 yos.


Every gun ever made was forged to kill a being.
Every gun ever made has or will kill a living thing. Or multiple living things.
Guns were made for no other purpose.
Only man could make killing so easy.
Karma will call and collect her damages.

December 11th, 1992

The day I lost my dad. 25 years ago, yesterday.


I am kneeling beside my father. He’s dead.

I look at him for a long time. I’ve never seen a dead body before.

I want to memorize his face and hands before he is in the ground.

His mouth is open. His eyes are fixed and wide. He is frozen with a look of surprise. I reach out to touch the back of his neck. My fingers barely land when I feel the prickle of shorn hair and cold, firm flesh.

I immediately withdraw my hand.

I am devastated that he’s gone. I never thought I would feel bad on this day.

My face is numb and tight from the departed tears that I didn’t bother to stop, catch or dry.

His hair is stiff and sharp. It’s cut so close and damaged from the radiation. It’s seems almost burnt.

His nose is pronounced and pointed. When he was healthy, it was round and red, but he’s lost so much weight. It’s chiseled bare.

His cheeks are waxy, melting mounds. Smooth and brown.

His hands are large; dangerous. They are still, yet frightening. The monster strength is gone, but they summon the fear of what was possible, what was done.

He is a mechanic. But he has the cleanest, longest nails I’ve ever seen on a man. The palms are soft and tender, amazingly so.

My hands are close to his. The backs of my hands are rough, pale and dry. White with flakes. My nails are short and torn. Red and sore like my eyes.

I can sense that whatever lights the eye and warms the blood is gone from him. There is no recognition, not even a grimace.

His spirit has sighed away and what is left is just a heap of tumors, bones and bile. He will never talk, kiss, threaten, smoke, curse, drink, hit, hate, love, work, sacrifice, shame or wrestle on this earth again. He can’t hurt any more, but he also can’t fix a thing.

I have lost him. I. Am. Lost.


I love you. I forgive you. I miss you. Still.

Walking in Darkness

For my friend, Laurey. Love you, Doll.


Night has come and we walk in dark
Because we have not made it home.
But in the black, hand in hand,
We do not go alone.

The light will come again.
We know that now for sure.
For lightless earth and dimming path
Love is the only cure.


Isaiah 9 ESV

But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish…but in the latter time he has made glorious the way of the sea… The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone.


Laurey lost her mom over Thanksgiving. Anytime is not a good time to lose your mom, but it was unexpected and on holiday break. If you would like to help, they have funeral costs. You can give here. Ellen Johnson Please do not feel obligated. I’m sharing to try and help.

Back to Life

Words are straining
Light is waning
Pulse is fading
Dead

Born again
Back from when
Where I’ve been
Alive

Now I fly
On rhythm’s high
Do or die
Awake

Through the ceiling
From numb to feeling
Nerves are healing
Breathing

Eyes on fire
Love’s a wire
World’s a liar
Sleep

Good night.

Pray for Heaven

Too many memes
To cover our screams.
Tell us to pray
And wish it all away.

Pray for Vegas

Our thoughts and prayers
Fall on dead ears.
Those victims are gone.
That gun has been drawn.

Pray for Orlando

Cut through the night
With muzzle flash light.
When will I succumb
To Madman overcome?

Pray for Dallas

Hunker down now.
Kneel and bow.
Live in fear.
My rights are clear.

Pray for Newtown

How many deaths
Are required for checks?
How many guns
Are required for one?

Pray for Columbine, Denver, San Bernardino, Virginia, Paris, London…

ETC.

Pray for the whole fucked-up world.


This isn’t about protecting your home. This isn’t about one pistol or rifle for sport. This is about limiting Goddamn military hardware for crazies. It shouldn’t be your right (and it isn’t BTW) to collect an arsenal. Well-regulated, I believe it says! And we’re not.

I’m tired of thinking and praying because the men in power who can control our safety aren’t listening. Gun manufacturers profit from the death of innocents.

Pray for Heaven to have Its way. This isn’t heaven.
This is hell and the NRA is the red one with the automatic rifle, horns, hooves and pointy tail.

December 11th, 1992

The day I lost my dad.


I am kneeling beside my father. He’s dead.

I look at him for a long time. I’ve never seen a dead body before.

I want to memorize his face and hands before he is in the ground.

His mouth is open. His eyes are fixed and wide. He is frozen with a look of surprise. I reach out to touch the back of his neck. My fingers barely land when I feel the prickle of shorn hair and cold, firm flesh.

I immediately withdraw my hand.

I am devastated that he’s gone. I never thought I would feel bad on this day.

My face is numb and tight from the departed tears that I didn’t bother to stop, catch or dry.

His hair is stiff and sharp. It’s cut so close and damaged from the radiation. It’s seems almost burnt.

His nose is pronounced and pointed. When he was healthy, it was round and red, but he’s lost so much weight. It’s chiseled bare.

His cheeks are waxy melting mounds. Smooth and brown.

His hands are large; dangerous. They are still, yet frightening. The monster strength is gone, but they summon the fear of what was possible, what was done.

He is a mechanic. But he has the cleanest, longest nails I’ve ever seen on a man. The palms are soft and tender, amazingly so.

My hands are close to his. The backs of my hands are rough, pale and dry. White with flakes. My nails are short and torn. Red and sore like my eyes.

I can sense that whatever lights the eye and warms the blood is gone from him. There is no recognition, not even a grimace.

His spirit has sighed away and what is left is just a heap of tumors, bones and bile. He will never talk, kiss, threaten, smoke, curse, drink, hit, hate, love, work, sacrifice, shame or wrestle on this earth again. He can’t hurt any more, but he also can’t fix a thing.

I have lost him. I. Am. Lost.

Elderly Dragonfly

Oh, aged, fluttering Friend,
Your short, lovely life is about to end.

Perched upon my window sill,
Your lethargy reveals you are ill.

You linger and you long,
Not quite finished with your song.

When your life is almost over,
Why aren’t you dancing above the clover?

Instead, you visit me for one last glance.
My window–your funeral. Our last chance.

When humans are old and losing the world,
We sit and stare at Universe unfurled.

But you, my friend, stare back at me,
Waiting for Heaven to finally be free.

Did you have children? Did you find grace?
Did you ever find your very own space?

Thank you for spending your last minutes here.
I embrace your brave absence of fear.

Float on up. Flying is done.
Your winged race? Too-soon run.


Based on a story my husband just shared from work last night. I made the dragonfly in Photoshop from scanned ink textures and filter effects.

Vol. 2 (continued)

More from my second volume of Present Tense. These excerpts have not been published or seen. This is from the time I visited my dad in the hospital, just before he passed. He was very sick. End-stage cancer.


Smoke ‘Em If You Got ‘Em


Lung cancer. He smoked for over 45 years. Sometimes 3 packs a day. Sometimes a pipe. Rarely marijuana.
He is laying in bed in a hospital room. I walk into the room with my mother and sister. He’s in a gown, head shaved and Sharpie marks on his scalp. That’s where they focus the radiation. That’s where the brain tumors are. There are several marks. There are other places in his body that have cancer. Leg. Stomach. Chest.
He’s uncomfortable. He starts to squirm. He rolls onto his stomach, props himself up on his elbows and knees. My mother rubs his back. She whispers softly in his ear. She looks scared. So does he. This is the most vulnerable, tender moment I have ever seen them share. The pain passes.
He looks at me and asks me to buy him a pack of cigarettes. He hands me several dollar bills. I agree.
Our philosophies were in agreement on this day and many to follow. The world is a brief, harsh place and you find pleasure where you can.
I was not going to deny a dying man his last want or need.
We are on our way to my grandmother’s funeral.

Lois the Lion

i made this helmet princess several years ago after my friend died. it’s the dark eyes that remind me of her, i added those.

i didn’t draw the helmet, but i did everything else. i found it and manipulated it in photoshop. it was a royalty-free image, like a drawing from an old book.

and i wrote this poem. i revised and published here because it makes me happy to think of her.


i didn’t know you as well as i could, but i knew u were:
funny as hell
wispy like a princess
and the-heart-of-a-lion mother

life is a stain, full of blood and pain
an un-removable mark

indelible, undeniable, irreversible
irrevocably absolute

life is crazy and messy and amazing
impossible to erase

ur mark can never,
will never, fade
ur remarkable and beautiful
uniquely made

ur body is broken
ur life is undone
but ur spirit is alive
you have overcome

ur daughter is here
ur love is around
ur there in her eyes
angel come down

ur the lucky one
now u will rest
u endured the worst,
enjoy the best