Living legacy of a dead dad

A loveless life, and misery.
Did you expect that
To be your legacy?

I thought I had one happy memory
Of you and me:

I was walking on your feet
As you held my hands in yours,
Although now I am not sure
If it’s true

Because the main way I remember you
Is pale and blue in a wooden box –
Dead, in our living room.

I did not get the chance to know you, in a non-dead state.
I did not get the chance to really know you,
And all your uncaring ways.
I did not get the chance to see for myself,
What a disastrous disappointment you would be, dad,
As a father, as a man, as a husband –
You were everything I never want to be.

So, thank you, dad,
For leaving me.
Thank you, dad,
For your legacy.
Thank you, dad,
For loving me in your way…
Hey,
You know what that looked like?

You would come home from work, and breeze past me,
When I was so happy to see you,
As you never even said goodbye in the morning, no,
You did not want me
Or my affection, my love –
So unfamiliar to a soul that had given up,
No, you only gave your attention
To your newspaper and your regrets –

You know what?

You made no difference, alive or dead.

I don’t even think

About the life we could have had.

Marionette and the Moon

When did these strings
Take a hold of my heart, skin and bones?
I am the marionette,
Dragged onto the stage
With my bleeding knees –
Mascara streaks on my cheeks –
The performer of no story at all,
With black tears that do nothing
But fall.

A single spotlight
Fixated on my eyes,
And my ambitions,
My hopes and dreams –
Are they
What I made, or
What was I made for?

I am no Atlas,
I was not made to carry the world,
Or the sky, I
Was made to be like the moon,
Because
When I see her late at night
When I’m all on my own,
I see myself just like her:
Scarred and alone.

Poem: Ash of the Past

Lay me in the dust of death
A vague disconnect
From the blood on my hands
In the drowning discotheque
Music pounding in my head
To the beat of how things used to be
With our drunken songs
On dimly lit city streets

The sheets on my bed
Still carry your ash
Where I sleep
And have my fitful dreams
From which I keep waking
With tremors in my hands
And an unsteady breath
That escapes my lungs
And leaves me here
Laying myself down in the dust of death

Escape the Night

Escape the nightlife,
The empty promises,
Endless dances around the truth,
To the beat of off-beat, out of sync hearts.

Join me under the stars, my dear.
Let’s look at the clouds
And appreciate the company of the moon,
Far, far away from the madding crowd.

My lovely paradox

The sun shines through my windows,
But the night lives on in my mind.
Thoughts of a melancholic moon, you,
Imaginary jealousy, a wish
To just leave things be.
Oh, it’s simultaneously light and dark,
Life and death,
But either way,
Nothing
In the end.

War? Where?

Hear the thunder as it comes,
Count down the seconds,
Watch for the flashes,
Flashbangs and guns, shouts,
Demonstrations, the thunder, as it comes,
As it comes,
Closer and closer.

The guns, the guns,
Come closer and closer
Till they stare you in the eye.
The thunder, it comes, rolling through the sky.

Now is not a time to be blind
To the thunder
And the guns,
So put your hands up
And raise them in the air
And wave them around
Like you just dont care.

Misery Loves Company? something like that

Why is pain a place of comfort, and not joy?
Why not the peace of a warm embrace,
Or the sound of the rain outside,
While I am safe, inside, with no complaints?

I love my own company, my love for life,
For the flowers springing up
From the concrete, the birds
Singing in the trees outside my window.

Why then, when I sit
And put my pen to my thoughts,
And my thoughts to the paper,
Do I continuously choose
For misery?

Another poem about love, death and whatever is in between

A moment’s respite
From mindless melancholy
Bones barely breathing
A crushed carcass
Buried by the weight of a silent generation
The prophets that foretold
All that is known and unknown
The coming of hell on earth
A thousand years of glorious madness
So, ravenous vulture with your wings,
Nocked bow, an arrow
Pointing at my heart
Oh, it’s the excitement of love and death,
Self-hatred and pride, legacy
And oblivion
In an empty sky
Where the stars are not welcome
And the sun does not dare show its face
It is the night
That never ends
It is the night
That gives me this gift
Of a moment’s respite

Certainty: Death, Love, and Everything in Between

Late night surround sound
The city lights in my mind
Explosive thoughts, touches
Heart, body, mind, in ecstasy,
A sensory overload that leaves me
Reeling, dazed and melancholic
For days, but I chase
The high, the feeling of being
In love – in love with an unobtainable being,
A serving, a portion, an abortion of love
It had a foundation but that’s all there was
Deleted fetus turned off
By the machine, that hides
Behind clouds, doubt and indifference
All around, as my thoughts disappear
Into the loud, late night surround sound

JD Poetry