Author: poetryfest

scissors, forceps, knives, probes, and scalpels
i wish to be dissected,
ripped out, severed, on display,
my insides laid bare by my hollow frame.
i wish to be sterilized,
to be considered corrupted –
though stripped of my humanity,
my individuality –
capable of a purity, untouched and baptized.
i wish to be studied,
to be nothing more than a collection of organs,
ceasing to be,
yet existing lifelessly for you.
i wish to feel naked –
exposed, nude, vulnerable,
now deaf to the carnal whispers
your gaze trace upon me.
i wish to be reduced to my body,
but be more than a body to you.
i wish to be a spectacle,
as my vacant eyes momentarily meet yours,
you feel nothing,
blind to your own image within me.
i wish you to look at me,
and forget the soul that lived within,
binding us to the same fragile thread of being.

Featuring: Billy Morrison

Solid, still, losing the will to live
Cold, hard, watch me hit the ground

Hollowed out
Crumbling in doubt
Here I stand empty and without

My future that was bright and glowing
Is now hidden with moss growing

My foundation
Is devastation
From my own terminal isolation

Lights no longer shine from inside
Windows are blown out on either side
With the front doors opened wide

And now my bones in these decaying brick walls
Are all I have after it all

Tittering, shaking, everything is breaking
Chipping, cracking, watch me start shattering

Broken pieces
Rust increases
While hope inside decreases

My future that was all but assured
Is now in reverse
With absolutely nothing to preserve

My feelings
Have no meaning
As my walls start bleeding

Now nothing inside thrives
And nothing will survive
Because nothing inside feels alive

Feeling pieces starting to chip and fall
I’m crumbling across all four walls

Forgotten, unsteady, here I stand ransacked and empty
Taunted, haunted, watch me get demolished

Decaying in despair

My condition is anything but fair
Because I’m beyond repair

With my interior devastated
Everything I am is now dilapidated

And now, at the end of the day
Nothing is here to stay
As all I am fades away

Despite the past reaching out and calling
My walls are now falling
And there’s nothing to do but watch it all dissolve
Because my bones are still hidden in these walls

I died that day. A piece of me fell. Collapsed. Transformed into a primordial; sucking the tears of my crying soul. What was left of me? Death? Wallowing to avoid the joys of life – attempting to keep myself anything but grounded. I never wanted to be alive until I nearly died at the hands of someone else. Until my oxygen hit 92 : lying on a stretcher : getting wheeled in an ambulance. Is that possible? Is that sane? Am I sane. When I stared at the man poking my arm with a needle to make sure I was still alive, to make sure i bled. If I bled, therefore I was.

I had almost forgotten what they
Looked like before this state
Leaves wilted completely
They had given up
I know I did
A week ago they were bright red
Alive and well
Just as I was

The week ended
As did their life
Then my hope slipped away
And dug itself back into the earth

I am the oldest son.
I am the second son.
They won’t call me their son.

Make me into your monster,
as if I have a choice.
I carry that with pride.

They say I killed their daughter.
She bled out in the living room.
Her blood is on my hands.

I held her dying hand.
I witnessed her last breath.
She wouldn’t save herself.

Her heart beats in my chest,
a phantom of my own
thanks me with every beat.

It is the monster’s heart
that has kept me alive.
I won’t apologize.

Late-nineties darkness
You were bent over
Some september shore
Like a construction crane
Beneath a pimpish fur coat—
A womans, surely
White, draped lavishly, comically
Down to the pine-burl knees
I remember you hunched forward
False scowl, as an old man plays
Into his many odd jokes
In one hard hand:
A glistening muskie, most of your height
Beneath you both, wet grass
Around you both, total blackness
I love that picture, almost as much
As I would have loved you
Thank you
For my middle name

Nighttime falls, I hear distant cries,
Memories of your precious life,
How I loved your midnight calls,
We danced in the moonlight to my chest.
Held tight.

You struggled to get into this world,
But you made it out in your own time,
Only to be taken too soon, eleven months later,
By a silent perpetrator.

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome,
the taker of your breath as you slept.
Time to wake but not a peep,
I sensed your absence when my eyes first opened.
I picked you up but no longer were you there,
I wanted to close my eyes and find you,
How would I ever live without you?

You were taken away far too early,
Our future is stolen from us,
but death could not erase our past-
I refuse to give it the time we shared.
So, I lay down this sackcloth suit,
And I will spend the rest of my life.
Celebrating you.

Part of me will always be
Left in my car from that night
It ran so long that it was morning
We could’ve talked for another twenty four
And not ran out of things to discuss
Never before had I felt a connection like this
This or that, I guess may be more correct
The stick of gum ran out of flavor
Less than an hour into us
I didn’t mind though
You preoccupied my subconscious
No one can ever sit passenger
And not remind me of you
Burned into the seat like scar tissue

You make me think.
What kind of person
people are when
they’re not alive-
in the body,
when blood evaporates
and eyes can’t substitute a mouth’s smile.

I can’t make any
interpretations of you,
and it’s pretty upsetting.
I’d like to stare into
your eyes
and spend at least one
thanksgiving dinner with you.

I’d like to read Bible passages
with you, as you teach me.
The same teachings you
taught my older brother, Jacob.
The ones that made him weep
as a man.

Did you weep?
Did you lose your oxygen to where you had to yawn in stress?
Did I inherit that from you?
Did you kill a person when you were alive?
Ever shot a gun?
Did you ever cheat? On a test, on your wife, gambling, in death?
What was your favorite word?
What was your favorite type of cloud?

Who were you
that made family stories so memorable.
You sound so noble
and wholesome. A memory with
loss.
Who were you that makes
me believe that I’d like you.
I don’t even like my
parents, but you raised
one of them.
A grandpa, a friend.
A person I’ve never met and will never know.

Nevertheless, a person I love.
With no meeting
besides a hospital visit
and a funeral arrangement,
you’ve changed my life.
In death.

You’ve done more for me
than anyone who’s living ever has,
while never crossing the border
of eternity
to
get to me.

You’ve done more for me
than my last name
will ever provide for me.
So, I’ll ring the Army Bell
you left hanging on the wall
in your home. The house grandma
survives in.

I ring it till my ears
run in red.
My cardiovascular system feeling stuck
like yours did.
My grandpa- a commander of the living
and commanded by God.
To come back to him
earlier than us humans
wanted him to.

He never rang the bell
on Earth. Jimmy was humble enough.
But I always hope that
he got to ring a bell in Heaven.
Humble to meet the Lord our God.
With the same direction he projected
when others were called.

He was called and he’s helping to call.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Death came for Life,
but when it saw how beautifully Life flowed,
it stopped in its tracks.

Death became obsessed, a silent admirer,
while Life never noticed its presence.
Life just lived, loved, experienced.
Life held no fear,
Life simply was.

Death envied Life’s delusions,
for Death was bound by certainties,
while Life wandered free,
lost in illusions.

One day, Life felt Death’s breath
and trembled in fear.
But as Death drew near,
Life surrendered,
let Death in,
and held its memories close.

Death fell in love with Life,
and Life embraced Death.
Together, they created beauty and meaning.

Death was not to be feared,
and Life was meant to be celebrated.
Without Life, Death did not wound.
Without Death, Life had no purpose.

In one brief moment,
they coexisted—
embracing for the first and last time,
when Death collided with Life,
and Life felt fine