Death Poems

 

You come to me but cannot see
and do not know I’m there.
For now you’re mine and for a time
you’ll stay within my care.
No need to wait I know you’re late
others are drawing your plans.
So near yet so far you aren’t and you are
in skillful and loving hands.
Naked and bare at peace you lie there
regretfully your rest is disturbed.
From vacant glazed eyes that wept mournful sad cries
to lips that won’t part for a word.
I’ll take what God gave a few more things to save
no pain and no loss will you feel.
With out and with in I caress cold lifeless skin
your secrets I dare not reveal.
Life essence replaced fulfilled dark empty space
you’re finished before I’ve begun.
May the tale be retold of a profession so old
it eclipses the oldest one.
In paradise or hell of this I can’t tell
the future is everyone’s end.
Loathed, shunned and feared when I appear
but the day draws when we’re closer than friends.

 

All is done the time has come I offer up no plea.
I stand accused of a life misused and of things that shouldn’t be.
In the dark’s a light harsh and bright to a spot with in the gloom.
This empty space is the place to stand in death’s courtroom.
I hear a crowd large and loud seemingly all around.
Not a word just laughter heard and gnashing weeping sounds.
Reaching out I begin to shout to the echo of my voice.
Then it ceased said over the peace, “Behold, what foolish choice!
You’ll realize threw thine own eyes what thy soul is worth.”
Again alone I’m back at home at the moment of my birth.
Seeing my mom and dad the hopes they had their pride and promise lost.
Through growing years the joys and tears how they endured the cost.
No thank you said I moved on ahead dismissing my childhood.
Uncaring and cold with little to hold and so much less understood.
The soft became hard I’d easily discard virtues innocent and weak.
Allowing in the pleasures of sin and the lust of my will I would seek.
How evil I seemed, “I’ve done good things!” I screamed but nothing came to mind.
How desperately I tried to find something inside no matter what ever the kind.
In the way I judged others my sisters and brothers I had broken all my own laws.
The judge had been me and too late do I see the truth that every one saw.
Then like a joke I beggingly spoke, “Forgive me,” my life’s final punch line.
The voice said with a smile, “Life was the trial then was the place and the time.
How dare you defend what you don’t comprehend things your soul cannot tell.
Mistaken foolishly to escape eternity we’re here to choose your damnation in hell.

 

A final breath then came sight so focused and so clear.
Gone were all the ghosts of thought and the grave of fear.
Moments filled my clouding eyes each breaking through a haze.
Cherished memories going back to long forgotten days.
My beloved’s hand was of the first in passion clenching tight.
And like a prayer came the words, “All will be all right.”
A body frail makes lazy days with time’s slow ebbing tide.
Shown was my soul’s retreat with my love still at my side.
The children of my children each sat upon my knee.
My nighttime tales hushed them quiet as they slept so dreamily.
Then born to my son and daughter came children of there own.
Holidays filled with laughter rang through out my happy home.
 I saw again the wedding vowels of two that once were mine.
How sad and proud I had become at this special time.
I smiled at a happy memory with a friendly familiar face.
At chores I’ve done and of scenes of a far-flung distant place.
My children went from on there own back into waiting arms.
How carefully I cradled them and protected them from harm.
Again my thankful eyes were filled with my children’s birth.
I gazed once more at the face of angles here on earth.
Vows of love by joined young souls sharing a single life.
I watched as my beloved and I became a husband and a wife.
Childish scenes came in a flurry of school and some of play.
My fathers smile and mothers hug were more than words can say.
At last a bed of final rest lays a peaceful form.
Scars from toil lines from worry upon its face are worn.
The hand once clenched now feels soft but never lost its grip.
Hand in hand are an eager two resuming their eternal trip.

Fuck this place
with its depression painted walls
traumatic trauma floorboards
Slowly serenading a death sentence
songs of misery, beleaguered
four walled panic attacks

Wallowing in cesspools of emptiness
no change today, sinking deeper
oh despair
clawing hands dragging
dragging marrow from the bone

Drought
where floods of tears once spewed
like ashened rain
washing away brittle bone

Mortis sets incased stone
petrified putrid statue
David
Eyes missing

Deceased exterior
inferno burning within

I died last night.
And after succumbing to the plight,
I woke up to a heaven which I’ve never worshiped.

Oh, stout and mighty were the pillars flanking the gate!
Had I lived of purer faith; I would have seen that my soul was too late.
So much to my displeasure now, I never dreamed it all to be true.

My eyes glazed over but without that dreaded, wakeful sting.
No, they were uncluttered of the sinful fog, now that they wanted to embrace the beautiful thing
that I had convinced myself never existed.

No! No, it is all true!
The pearls of my soul warmed to the light, and my soul for once felt forever free!
No longer is there any doubt! I’ve lived a good life and that’s all that matters.

Forgiven I must be for never accepting the light.
Do my eyes tell the sin of lies only because they’re in fright?
As I gaze on into the light?

Somehow the shining seems impenetrable to these deceased eyes,
is it hell I gaze into?
I reach out my frigid hand to bathe in its warmth.

But a sudden burning sensation ravaged my hand.
It was so violent I withdrew,
and upon bringing my hand back, I noticed it was charred black.

My eyes raised back up into the light
and I came to realize it was white-hot flames,
not a second more were there of my pains.

I then noticed the pillars erected around me were coal-black,
and the light that shown behind them
radiated in hues of yellow and orange like fire.

My deceased eyes tell terrible truths I had not believed in life.
Then a cold wind assaulted my body,
turning my skin into ice.

So, this is what the end looks like.
My soul charred, icy,
nevermore a conviction of fallacies!

Long after our black departure,
consumed by earth,
despite dreams of an immortal memory,
we’ll all be forgotten.

She has a poetic journal in her keeping,
immortalizing her words.
An archive of Gothic poetry,
holding her inner most desires
of adventure, sex, love and expressionism.

Metaphors possessing such precision,
sorrows channel into a time capsule,
buried within her being.

A single page entry,
could make a novel
of a thousand pages
written in vanity.

Kept out of sight from anyone
who persists to view its delicate words.

This record’s the gold kept locked,
button by button, within her being.
There’s no possible combination
to this safe,

as it is with the heart;
mind of the body,
where flesh to bone, bottom to upper lip,
can be locked as a secret forever;
dying with the keeper.

As her body succumbs and decays,
the words whither in thin air
to pure non-existence.

Her words will live on as an entity
in a deathless tomb.

Death shall have a dominion.
Dawn’s birth to day’s life,
Dusk’s decay to the death of night:
Tis’ not our mortal decision.

Youth’s innocent juvenility,
Vitality’s vibrancy,
The elegantly decaying morbidity,
A corpse in the clay of its grave perishing –

The funeral of darkness at moonset.

Morning’s nativity bears us,
Afternoon’s perennial years,
Evening’s eve of death,
Night’s mortality.

Our flowering... we beautiful cherry blossoms!

The senescent years of our ripening,
The weathering of our childhood babyface,
The decay of our innocence,
The maturation of our witticism.

Oh, the serenity of the eventide.

Now our setting, crimson sun
Trickles hue of gold onto our long-trodden path.
Oh, how immortal is the hand of the clock
That shining ball in the sky run.

Tis’ the hour of nightfall, twilight in our shutting eyes.

…And soul’s fresh, immortal rebirth.