DARK MATTERS
LIFE IN THE PIPES
For so long now,
with so many to thank,
my life has been headed
for the septic tank.
From the flush of my birth,
I traveled the pipes,
making this voyage
that I call "life."
But when the pipes end--
that will be it;
and I will dwell forever
with all the shit.
LOCK AND KEY
I do not belong--
I cannot win.
I am an outsider--
looking in.
My thoughts, my skills,
my wit, my deeds
are, sadly, things
that nobody needs.
This world was not made
for someone like me.
There is no lock
for which I am the key.
And when I shall cease
sucking Earth's air,
there is no reason
that anyone should care--
except for the plants--
they'll be sad that I died---
for they will miss
my carbon dioxide.
BREVITY
As I walk on the beach
beside the sea,
I am reminded of
my brevity.
The water has been here
sincing the dawning of time;
and from bolders came
that sand so fine.
And I'll be here
for such a short span--
nothing compared
to the water and sand.
But I bet the water
finds it a bore
washing the sand
upon the shore.
And surely the sand
gets tired as can be
being pushed around
by the sea.
So I guess it is better
to have brevity
than boredom throughout
eternity.
TIME
Time filters memory
like a merciful strain,
so that only good
and beauty remains.
But without mercy,
this filtrated bliss,
at death makes us think
that living we'll miss.
THAT"S LIFE
When something bad happens,
when things are not right,
someone will say,
"That's life."
But when something good happens,
when things are at their best,
no one ever says,
"That's death."
What this implies
is very sad.
It is that both life
and death are bad.
If life and death
are both a crock,
it might be better
to be a rock.
LUCK?
We can't stay young forever;
and getting old sucks.
But we all grow old
with a little luck.
This kind of luck
I have had;
but I am not sure
if it's good or bad.
GRAND POSSIBILITIES
When we are young
we have such resiliency,
because our lives are full
of grand possibilities.
And when a possibility
becomes a closed door,
we are not dismayed because
we have so many more.
And the simple things--
we dodge and we duck--
because with grand possibilities
the simple things suck.
But when we grow older
our possibilities become few,
so we must find pleasure
in simple things we can do.
This is why the young
will think it a bore,
the simple things
that old people adore.
THANKS, ASSHOLES!
You are dying; but so what?
the last few years haven't been so hot.
Time to move on--
pass the baton.
But then all your 'friends"
crawl out from the abyss,
to tell you how much they love you
and how much you'll be missed!
Then you start to regret
that you're passing away;
with all these loving friends,
you want to stay!
Thanks, good "friends"--
who like a curse
come around at the end
to make you feel worse.
|
Like so many younger brothers, when I was a kid I made a habit of pestering my sister, Betty, and her friends. It always made her so mad. I did it because I liked her and her friends and wanted their attention. So I got it--until my sister would get mad enough to call my mom or dad. Then, my fun would end. I suppose I was 10 years old or so. One day, as usual, I was being a pain in the ass to my sister and her friends. But instead of getting mad, Betty told her friends, "My brother can jump off the roof of our house." And her friends said, "Nah, no way!" And Betty said, "Way!" Naturally this required proof, so I got the ladder, climbed to the top of the house and jumped from the edge of the roof to the ground. It was a distance of about 10 feet. This became a popular trick. Each time I would come around Betty and her friends, one of them would ask me to jump off the roof. Over the next few years I did this a goodly number of times. Forward 40--50 years. The pain has more than once brought me to be brink of suicide. When my night pain meds wear off at about 3:00 AM, I'm up and ready for the next set of meds. From my lumbar to my toes I feel as if my body is made of sheets of glass that are slowly cracking. I stagger to the coffee pot, chuck down the pills, and within 10-15 minutes they kick in. This kick has been my reason for living for the past 5 years. At first it was about a four hour kick and I could really get things done. I'd write, do graphics, work on my website, do school work; even work around the house. Then, when those meds wore off, I could partially renew it with a new set of meds. But each renewal brought less and less relief. And each morning the kick became shorter and shorter. Reality is a cold-hearted bitch. I have my little blinders to help me ignore the bitch. And in this delusion I hang on and hope for better days. But now that morning kick lasts only about an hour and it comes with a headache. What will I do when it becomes less than 30 minutes? 15? I never let my supply of pills dwindle below an amount that would be lethal. |
HOME