we who have fallen are still called Angels
i have seen things in my life that i wish i had never seen. done things i wish i had never done. i have reached into the aether and changed my world. i have stood silently and helplessly by and done nothing while bits of it died.
below are two poems i wrote years ago. of the hundreds of poems i have written these are the only two i ever bothered to memorize. i now inflict them on you for your personal enjoyment or mocking derision.
whatever floats your boat.
:: sorrow ::
in the deepest confines
of my heart,
my soul crumbles silently
to its foundation,
and the only evidence
of its passing
is the crystal bleeding
of my eyes
and the crimson weeping
of my wrists.
this poem was written originally as a love poem. i went back and edited it in one of my darker hours and ended up with a slightly better poem.
it now stands testimony to my father’s suicide, though he was not one for anything so elegant as a blade. but to be true to my source material the ending would have had to have been ‘and the only evidence of its passing/is the gaping hole in my face’ and that was a bit too jarring to share with friends and family at the time.
so for better or worse i now leave him with a grace he would never have taken for himself.
sound condescending? well, let that be a lesson to you; when you kill yourself some other heartless bastard gets to have the last word.
:: the Angel ::
an angel came to me last night
in dreams bespoke my heart
that should again your lips touch mine
my life from me depart
so warned i come to you today
this dream thus heaven-sent
and touching your sweet lips to mine
i know my life well spent
i wrote that poem to my wife a lifetime ago when we were still dating, when the world was new, and the author considerablly more naiive than he is today. for all the hard truths i have learned in the interval, however, i still mean every word.