Perceived Endings


There’s nothing in this life that I despair
of doing, or look back and wish to do,
save laugh once more in mirth, or perhaps share
with those I love one more sunrise or two.

The earth has been a friend for many years,
and shared with me its bounty and great joy;
I’ve had the best of two or three careers
and been immersed in Music since a boy.

With what I’ve had, I truly have been blessed;
I’ve traveled long with true love and friends, who
have helped me be a man, a friend, a fool.

And now, this incarnation takes its rest,
another turn upon the wheel is due;
until then, to the earth, give back this fuel.

18 DEC 2002

OK, so perhaps its a bit morbid. But reading the poem “from the deceased” in the funeral program this afternoon made me think that it would be better to write it down beforehand, so that nobody else would usurp my general frame of mind and use it to their own evangelical purposes. Of course, I don’t think that’s likely to happen. I trust my loved ones and friends better than that. And it’s NOT gonna happen any time soon, but when it does, this is what I’d like to say. Oh, and while we’re at it, the Music should be Pink Floyd – “The Great Gig in the Sky”. But enough dwelling on that. There’s a lot of living left to do, for all of us here.

It reminds me of reading Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology, a book that was required in high school English (and one of the few reading assignments that left a profound impact upon my brooding, morbid teenage angst-ridden mind).

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Death and Kindness


… so now, after seven years of bad luck –
after that sudden crippling twist of fate,
when all the shit he threw just turned to muck,
just when you thought things weren’t going so great

in a second or two it is resolved,
and most certainly life will change from this point;
after all this time, sins have been absolved –
so sit back, relax and smoke a big joint.

think about the broken mirror you used
to see yourself in (his accusing, stoned eyes),
and cast it, like that wreath, in the fresh dirt.

think hard about the power he abused,
and your struggle to live on, to survive;
cry a little, then laugh, free – it won’t hurt …

18 DEC 2002

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