deepundergroundpoetry.com
The First Last Days
Those sad smiles under your eyes are turning purple.
I hit you with so much I guess.
Three days, is it?
The cat came to the bedroom door again, just looked at me
with some pissy face, and walked away.
You're not expended yet. Still trying;
Opening a smile so unlike the fooling eyes.
Your nose is santa red. You were up all night again
delivering me gifts.
Me, the poor child crying over have nots
and losses of what's left.
My tears were leftovers, like a receipt coming late,
from a horrible debt paid with life parts;
They drill holes into your gut and your head
and charge you for the nothing they've left you with.
Do you see my shame, as you cry atop my tears.
Do you see me as this skinny bull.
Never mind that my horns have always bent back,
out of your way.
Strangers never know, when they see me center ring.
While I'm feeling like handfuls of spears
are sticking out of my chest.
A tattered red cape shredded in my wake.
(It's just his get well cards, too late).
A skinny bull feeds off
the anger of others. So you, only you,
bring peace to the table.
You slew commotion and chaos and bade me lay down.
But sleep was and is my enemy.
So tell me to lay with you, and I'll stay.
Never mind, never say, you're here for me.
And I'll pretend you're crying with me, not for me.
Lies are not always bad.
Sometimes they're an extra blanket when we're cold.
I hide my thoughts behind you, as I rub your back.
I'm thinking of what kind of medal to award you.
But it's just to be breakfast, again.
Three bites, and I'm lighting a cigarette.
A glass of milk? Are you kidding me?
Then a vitamin the size of my lighter is
in your hand and you're convincing me
it will buy me health and well-being.
I smash it with my teeth and let it
grind against the enamel.
"Those aren't chewables, babe".
But I bet you wrong,
because everything is chewable;
Anger and sadness and loss
and death. And afterlife
for those who haven't died.
Just get it all down.
Swallow everything, because the gut
burns everything you send it.
And you have to feel it every time.
I see your suffering, it drapes
below your eyes. I'm starving you.
You feed me your heart and your
kisses and hold me even as I
walk away with my distant stares,
and leave you there with my cold fingers.
I've many years left, but still today
I'm not back alive.
Bulls hate red, because it reminds them
of what's inside. And it goes away
no matter how hard we fight.
Everything dies.
How many dents can faith take
before it's written off as a total loss?
Maybe in a way we travel a bit
with our loved ones, when they go.
Not beside them, but a little left behind.
We want to run up and hand them old pictures,
and pieces of themselves we saved for them.
-That chipped away and fell into ourselves.
With what is left, we try to resurrect
a likeness of them.
To carry so heavy until we can adjust
the weight alongside the other somethings
in our hearts and heads.
But I'm not that strong just yet.
So thank you for being here, for me,
while I hate God and death and everything
that makes us never really ready for heaven.
I know I'm not good enough.
I know he wasn't good enough.
But I hope like hell anyway.
You're the best of lovers
because you don't try to cling.
Not like the movers when
we change house; They're paid to care.
And maybe they mean well, but they dent the doorjams
and scratch everything...
You just bring it to the door of my heart
and let me put it all where it goes, when I'm ready.
Yesterday was my first last days.
Last wishes and wills and vultures wanting
to pick his pockets, but he's down to bones.
And I sat there crying silently, signing over
all the absolutely nothing's left.
Until I had my enough, and sent
everyone scrambling through windows
and doorways. And everyone realized
skinny bulls are still goddamn bulls.
You stayed beside me, knowing I knew
which direction love comes.
Thank you for not bringing my tears
into focus. I guess you knew I would.
I'm not ashamed to cry. I'm strong enough to cry.
It doesn't hurt, it doesn't help.
Tears are just an open window, when it's cold outside.
The kind you can't close without leaving the fireside.
And unsaid; Maybe we won't know each other
when it's time to say our own goodbyes.
No tears, from our own dying eyes.
You were here, for my first last days with someone.
You made sure that I didn't drop
all of my pieces of me and memories of him.
You carried my heart for me,
because I would've surely smashed it,
to make it stop hurting.
And through it all, all I didn't think of, I remember now;
Your hand on my shoulder, and rubbing my back.
It made me breathe, because I would've forgot.
I felt you there, as I tried to leave with him,
nevermind that I couldn't go.
I just wanted to hand him a few more things.
A picture of me and him, at least.
I know paper would burn in hell,
but I was no longer worried.
~~~
Published 9th Mar 2023
Author's Note
Written for a friend, back when my dad died.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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9th Mar 2023 2:38am
10th Mar 2023 1:54am
Say no more, you said a lot. I don't think I've ever had a write called that before. I gladly accept it.
Thank you, Betty.
Thank you, Betty.
Anonymous
9th Mar 2023 3:14am
I recall on several separate occasions, your remarks to me on being human. I only know of you through your words on these pages bur, as I know I have told you before, you are one of the good ones.
I echo Betty's "magnificent"
I echo Betty's "magnificent"
10th Mar 2023 2:34am
I appreciate it, too.
It's easier to be a good person than to not be.
You yourself is a testament to that. I already know so.
It's easier to be a good person than to not be.
You yourself is a testament to that. I already know so.
9th Mar 2023 10:15am
Dear S,
The pain is palpable throughout the piece. Its expression through the image of the “skinny bull” jumps from the page. This is beautiful in its sorrow, I know that probably sounds weird but there are so many of us unable to emote anything in time of grief that reading this sums up those oppressed feelings. Amazing piece. H🌷
The pain is palpable throughout the piece. Its expression through the image of the “skinny bull” jumps from the page. This is beautiful in its sorrow, I know that probably sounds weird but there are so many of us unable to emote anything in time of grief that reading this sums up those oppressed feelings. Amazing piece. H🌷
10th Mar 2023 2:42am
"Beautiful in its sorrow" does not sound weird at all. I've read so many pieces of others that reflect the same feeling, and I've said basically the same thing about theirs. We all carry sorrow of some sort. It's what we do with it that makes us writers, painters, singers, teachers, therapists, and so on.
When my dad died, I was "okay" for two or three days. There were others who needed me to be strong. So I tried. But man, a few days later, it all hit me, hard.
He was a pretty good dad that became a great friend. Two losses for me.
Thank you very much, H. Always.
When my dad died, I was "okay" for two or three days. There were others who needed me to be strong. So I tried. But man, a few days later, it all hit me, hard.
He was a pretty good dad that became a great friend. Two losses for me.
Thank you very much, H. Always.
Anonymous
9th Mar 2023 10:29am
Can only concur with the ladies above. This is stunning Styx.
I appreciate how you lay vulnerability on the page. Men are not programmed to express their sensitivity in our testosterone world. Ironically, from my experience, the more sensitive males are also strong as fuck. This resonates deeply on a personal level too. Dad was a beautiful, kind and strong man. Still miss him terribly. Thanks for sharing this. Sublime write mate.
I appreciate how you lay vulnerability on the page. Men are not programmed to express their sensitivity in our testosterone world. Ironically, from my experience, the more sensitive males are also strong as fuck. This resonates deeply on a personal level too. Dad was a beautiful, kind and strong man. Still miss him terribly. Thanks for sharing this. Sublime write mate.
10th Mar 2023 3:08am
I'm glad to hear that you too had a good dad. Not many do anymore, it seems like?
But my kids do!
I write the "me" that isn't out in the open much. Maybe that is exactly why I do write.
I don't hide. I just don't share with the world some deeper stuff. Like most people, obviously.
I appreciate your input, Rob. You have a good male perspective on things.
Like the guy right below . Lol
But my kids do!
I write the "me" that isn't out in the open much. Maybe that is exactly why I do write.
I don't hide. I just don't share with the world some deeper stuff. Like most people, obviously.
I appreciate your input, Rob. You have a good male perspective on things.
Like the guy right below . Lol
This is so touching. You have an amazing talent. I love the metaphor and haptics but the tone of voice, measured and intimate, is really the power of your writing. I'd like to enter this into PotM.
10th Mar 2023 3:17am
Thank you lots, Daniel. (I can't be in PotM anymore this year).
I used to want to be an actual poet. Because of my dad, and the books he had around. He was an avid reader, and sometime writer. That was my inspiration, as a young guy. He was pretty cool.
Years ago, I met a Chinese woman who wrote so incredible. Insanely good. Between her writes and our friendship, it changed how I write completely. For the better.
Because of that, I want to be a decent writer. It's my better path.
And your encouraging words, along with the others, keeps me motivated to try.
I used to want to be an actual poet. Because of my dad, and the books he had around. He was an avid reader, and sometime writer. That was my inspiration, as a young guy. He was pretty cool.
Years ago, I met a Chinese woman who wrote so incredible. Insanely good. Between her writes and our friendship, it changed how I write completely. For the better.
Because of that, I want to be a decent writer. It's my better path.
And your encouraging words, along with the others, keeps me motivated to try.
10th Mar 2023 4:46am
11th Mar 2023 8:48pm
Thank you Dimpy.
Sometimes our writes were there all along. We just have to find them.
Sometimes our writes were there all along. We just have to find them.
12th Mar 2023 3:19am
10th Mar 2023 2:32pm
You twined together a beautiful sorrow, the emotion you captured and shared with us is amazing. Really awesome descriptions like, the warmth of a lie, the tears, the breathing. I personally enjoyed the line about paper burning in hell, great ending.
LJ
LJ
11th Mar 2023 8:52pm
Hey LJ. Thank you for pointing out the parts that mattered.
The ending was to give a little bit of a better outlook, after the beat down of everything.
This is the type of write that wipes me out!
The ending was to give a little bit of a better outlook, after the beat down of everything.
This is the type of write that wipes me out!
11th Mar 2023 8:20pm
11th Mar 2023 8:55pm
I like "wow"s. It tells me I got down the sentiment that I was striving for.
It was an ass-kicker to write. That's for sure.
So thank you.
(Hi Jade!)
It was an ass-kicker to write. That's for sure.
So thank you.
(Hi Jade!)
(this reply was actually written when you first posted this, but at the time felt like it was too over dramatic to publish. Then I figured, fuck it... It's exactly what happened when I read it, and you'd want to know the effect of your poem, so here goes! )
As I sit here with tears slowly steaming down my face in deep deep understanding, I'm actually flat out jealous of how deeply fortunate I know you were to have such a wonderful person by your side during that emotionally wrought and trying time of loss. Not ever having had that experience before is definitely a brutal and stressful situation. As you know, I deeply connect and fully empathize from personal experience what a horror show it can potentially be losing someone so close to you, like a parent. To make it through-well, it really is all about those small gestures and healing gentle touches, which mean fucking everything.
I'll just say that one of the reasons I have a hard time trusting people (significant others mostly) is partly because of the tremendous scars left by the one person I trusted most during that same harsh time, when my own dad was dying. A husband who just wasn't there... period. Both my sister's had their husbands right by their sides and there I was, flying solo. Even now, years later, it's almost too overwhelmingly painful to discuss. Looking back, I feel like I should have known right then and there that it was completely over but unfortunately the devastation of loss was all could see, hear and feel. My point being, that this beautiful piece of deeply heart-felt written thanks to that person who was by your side is better than a 'thank you' it's honoring that piece of yourself that's been safeguarded by them, forever. A steadfast bond that tragedy united. From pain and loss a beautiful poetic transference was captured/cultivated by the decency of empathic goodness and kind love.
It's another truly epic love and loss story with varied facets, where your writing talents reverberate, touching the deepest most sensitive parts of the reader.
I would nominate this for PotM if I could!
🌹💙 💙
As I sit here with tears slowly steaming down my face in deep deep understanding, I'm actually flat out jealous of how deeply fortunate I know you were to have such a wonderful person by your side during that emotionally wrought and trying time of loss. Not ever having had that experience before is definitely a brutal and stressful situation. As you know, I deeply connect and fully empathize from personal experience what a horror show it can potentially be losing someone so close to you, like a parent. To make it through-well, it really is all about those small gestures and healing gentle touches, which mean fucking everything.
I'll just say that one of the reasons I have a hard time trusting people (significant others mostly) is partly because of the tremendous scars left by the one person I trusted most during that same harsh time, when my own dad was dying. A husband who just wasn't there... period. Both my sister's had their husbands right by their sides and there I was, flying solo. Even now, years later, it's almost too overwhelmingly painful to discuss. Looking back, I feel like I should have known right then and there that it was completely over but unfortunately the devastation of loss was all could see, hear and feel. My point being, that this beautiful piece of deeply heart-felt written thanks to that person who was by your side is better than a 'thank you' it's honoring that piece of yourself that's been safeguarded by them, forever. A steadfast bond that tragedy united. From pain and loss a beautiful poetic transference was captured/cultivated by the decency of empathic goodness and kind love.
It's another truly epic love and loss story with varied facets, where your writing talents reverberate, touching the deepest most sensitive parts of the reader.
I would nominate this for PotM if I could!
🌹💙 💙
17th Mar 2023 2:04am
Don't ever hide your sincerity. When the smoke clears, the victors are judged by their character, not their victories. We all lose sometimes. Maybe everything. But with faith that things can be better, they do get better. You just have to see it.
If you meet nine asshole people, in a row, unfortunately, then the tenth one is the good one, finally.
That's the only way to see it. When we stop having hope, our hearts stop all the good stuff.
I love your comment. I love you putting your heart on the table. It's safe here.
If you meet nine asshole people, in a row, unfortunately, then the tenth one is the good one, finally.
That's the only way to see it. When we stop having hope, our hearts stop all the good stuff.
I love your comment. I love you putting your heart on the table. It's safe here.
