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Death By Blancmange
Like Judas with a kiss,
She brought me tea and biscuits;
Darjeeling and Earl Grey
Said all there was to say.
This gift told me we were through.
The quarrel was so horrifying,
In silence that was agonizing,
Pregnant with a paralyzing love.
We clawed for words in desperation,
Marked by frequent hesitation,
Punctuated by a sense of dread.
The theatre was stimulating,
Like cocaine and hyperventilating,
So we sent out for kindney pie nonetheless
Being civilized to our planned schedule
Despite the press of overwhelming stress.
Like the quick rip of a bandage,
Vanilla Wafers did the talking;
Ginger Snaps were terser than our row.
So her heartstrings slipped the bow,
Going free when colored paper tore.
Fatal moments conspired to make a difference,
While I gripped a river to come sooner,
But she couldn't tell that I held onto her.
A scalpel instant seered decisive resignation,
But faith means hoping something has to work.
After dinner in the dark,
That funereal meeting in the park,
The second-hand pounded nails to make offence
The notion dreary that I couldn't entertain with her:
That she replaced herself with some crumbs and quince.
Like Judas with a kiss,
She brought me tea and biscuits;
Darjeeling and Earl Grey
Said all there was to say.
This gift told me we were through.
The Princess of the Stationery Store
Doesn't love me anymore;
The Queen who taught my pen to sing
Has taken off on broken wing.
All the others I admire
Have launched headfirst into the fire.
No sympathy please, I beg and prithee,
Simply one more round of whisky.
I have no stomach for this sadness,
So I'll go home and reek of gladness;
While my poor neighbors bolt and flee
The Minor Mode I'll shirk earnestly,
And when that dour mood doth come,
I'll drive it off with beat of drum;
When thought turns in upon itself,
I'll take the bottle from the shelf.
"He is jolly," they will say,
Others, "Merry!" and some "gay."
None will take me seriously,
Whilst I warble in the key of C;
From my lips will drip anecdote,
Bawdy tale, rhyme and joke.
By the glass I'll drill where only I see,
So none will guess how I loved thee.
Fubar blogs used to rock.
Now they suck.
Is this a poem?
You were with me through the years,
You did my soul restore.
When my spirit needed mending,
I got all that and more.
As for seeking you, there was no need;
At your hour, you always came,
But a change has come to tip the scales
And something's not the same.
Where did you go, old friend of mine?
What called you urgently?
Was some mission more important?
What is there now that will heal me?
You were loyal, steadfast, constant
Though troubled, you were on my side.
I swear I can't imagine what I did
To make you run and hide.
Did you think I wouldn't miss you?
Did you feel I could go on alone?
They told me that someday you'd fade,
I guess I really should have known.
But now I only toss and turn;
I feel the void you left behind
I ache and moan in search of peace
That will relieve my beleaguered mind.
I guess you're never really gone,
My eyelids flutter and you slip through time,
I feel as though I've been with you,
Twixt hazy dusk and weary dawn.
They say as shadows fill our lives,
Like fingers dark and long
The end comes to us like a sleep,
But I just think they're wrong.
For Sleep, you were my daily rest,
My comfort in my time of pain,
And though one day I'll grow quiet and still,
It'll be when you never come again.
Oh, take some other man, be at your leisure
That the fruits of life you might more readily enjoy;
And blossom in your spring, yet reaping flowers
Erst the snow collects me when the rose still blooms for
you.
Feel no regret as you behold the wake
Forget remorse as I fade from view,
Know no loss in what you must forsake
While God and Nature take me far from you.
I would have tarried one more hour,
A day, a week, a month just to be at your side,
But the heat will follow summer's ev'ry shower
My dissolution comes across the years, I cannot hide.
This old heart aches and breaks and wishes for a dream,
Where you and I could be as one,
But I am neither fool nor madman
Lucid reality has us all undone.
But feel no grief when I'm not with you,
And do not cry when I no longer ramble on;
there are years that were meant just for you,
And I'm not made to see the dawn.
I had my time, I laughed, I frolicked,
I jumped in joy as youth is wont to do;
But sad it is I never knew the season
Where I could love someone as I did you.
I look for reason, cause and motive--
But find none --
In how the subtle movements of the planets
Combined by Thy Design
To bring me to her;
Or her to me.
Could there be some strength we gather?
I can't see how --
When ev'ry step is on a path
That has no suitable resolution
In Thy Landscape,
Painted in the colors of pain
Her suffering and mine;
Or even ours.
Is this something beyond my grasp?
My eternal quand'ry?
That in my actions without a role,
Determined by Thy Rules,
That Thou has taught my heart
To extend a helpless hand?
Is this timing not criminal and cruel?
To me it seems so --
Where our capabilities are strained
To Thy Stamp of our flawed incapacity,
So that which seems most ardent love
Cannot even be that slender
Help of a Friend?
In each day I see both pull and comfort.
Are she and I really free?
In this limited wheelworks
Where Thou has measured ev'ry stride
And told her when to accept it;
Or me to make it.
I look for Family, God and Country,
But I see her --
Caught in the teeth of Thy Cog
Whereupon Thou pinchest me;
Thou makes my good news bad;
Her good, bad, or vice-versa.
What will be next? Is my head not lowered?
But ev'ry day I bear Thy Burdens
For her soft light --
While Thy Dark Machinations
Drag us to the pit.
So if I am too weak to help her,
Then I prefer her forgiveness over Thine.
I live in my head
With monuments to pristine clarity
Where crystalline palaces gleam
In a city on the edge of eternity,
Where the ideal is close enough
To solve the problems of reality.
She lives in her heart
With obstacles of immense enormity
Where burdens drag her at a weary pace
Through the ruins of what never was,
While myriad complications dash her hopes
On the troubles she discovers and explores.
In many lifetimes my blanched fingertips
Pressed the filmy bubble of difference between us,
In disbelief that the hair's breadth of years
Must snatch that unique pear from her short life
So that we can never be.
