Blog Archives

Progression

Now she’s gone
And it’s just me left here.
No, I don’t really think
I’d like another beer.
It’s a progression
In the park where
We used to walk over,
Is now all covered up
In a new spray of clover.
It’s a progression
And memories of us
Are now hard to hold onto;
The doctor says perhaps four months
Then I’ll be gone too.
It’s a progression
All the happy turns sad
About the time of sunset.
You wouldn’t like it here;
That I had agreed now I regret.
It’s a progression
Our kids are good;
I think we did pretty well;
Now nurses and lawyers—
All grown up from Farmer in the Dell.
It’s a progression
Yes, it’s time to rest
And for you to go.
I love you for coming,
I just wanted you to know.
It’s a progression

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Without A Doubt

My mind has closed
Though my eyes are wide open.
Nurse Practitioner says six months:
No more.
Time to get real—
Make copies for the lock to the door…

Mine eyes have seen the Glory,
But that’s not for me.
Got to complete a DNR
For sure.
God, it’s too real—
There IS NO CURE.

Can hardly catch my breath
But my heart is full.
Medicare or Medicaid?
It’s such a blur—
Lilly can handle it
Of that I’m sure.

Yes, God has quit:
Apostasy has its rewards.
My memory escapes,
But I pray for clarity.
I know I don’t make sense—
I embrace your kind charity.

“Weak, I have become”
“Strong with the Force I am,
But not that strong—“
No doubt.
But it doesn’t take a Jedi
To let it all hang out.

The wide yon abyss calls—
Ringed in heather, grace, and lavender;
All the papers are signed—
Please pardon my scrawl.
Laissez le Bontemps Roulez
Y’all!

It Will

Pity you couldn’t stay
You could’ve had me for a song
But of course you couldn’t stay
You couldn’t be away for so long
Your sister was nigh passing
A transition to a better place
You were there to hold her hand
You were there to stroke her face
To tell her don’t be afraid
To tell her everything’s okay
And you’ll be there so soon
And it’ll be a better day

Funeral home-bitter tears-cremation
Death’s clean industry will never end
You did your hard, honored part
Your Love and Spirit did well attend

Grieve, all should and will now
Love will take her keen shrouded bow
Hold onto the memories small and pale
You walk the path of an old, holy trail

Please, don’t be afraid
Please know everything’s okay
And all will be whole soon
And it’s already a better day

Etiquette Fail

And so the time has come to go.
Thanks for your time and the Music and the Love;
Wisht I’d better acquitted myself,
And had earned a place up there high above.

But I’s just another fat American
With no one else better to blame;
Like Journalism on the Progressive bias—
All part of the same tired game.

But what are these chest pains:
Signal push-ups or Pearly Gates?
Gotta go to work tomorrow
With a boss who blithely hates.

So, have another glass of merlot—
Twas an unassuming vintage.
But I’ll miss you ever the most:
Thou of sterling mintage.

But it hurts a bit right here,
Around about where my broken heart lies.
Bury me next to Momma or scatter me in Sandbridge;
Try not to mind those nipping sand flies.

But you better not fail me:
You best try to find the Real;
Don’t lie, don’t drug, don’t cheat,
And never, ever lower yourself to steal.

Now, it’s past time to leave.
[Never got that part right]
Adios muchachos,
Bon soir, and good night.

Surely Not

Passed the cutoff for sycamore creek
up round about the CR 245;
down 71, looking for deerpath way—
it wasn’t like I was lucky to be alive.

Blew out the front right firestone
traveling at or around the posted speed;
came to stop beyond cypress creek—
changing the tire wasn’t that much of a deed.

But jacking the 2004 was half a bit harder
as the tears fell out about my taut reserve;
seems the bells had just begun to ring—
what high truth do the chimes preserve?

Back down the road at half passed the rain
needing a bathroom stop something awful,
like I knew might not ever see them again;
exited at a station in a manner not quite lawful.

Email said it simple, nothing quite so very grand:
she was taken at 5:11pm to the seton highland.