Posts Tagged ‘Poem’

copyright Gay Harper
It seems that,
with every death,
I lose a part of me.

There’s very little left,
now,
of who I used to be and

this person
I’m becoming
isn’t able to see

the person
who I was then or
treasured memories.

Locked in this head
are places to which
I no longer have the key

My identity
must have drained out
with the last bag of my IV.

A hollow shell;
mask on tight,
I still resemble me.

The me
I used to know.
The me
I used to be.

Cringing white,
terrified,
I anticipate
the swift slap
of ink & metal

just before
the key
strikes,

crushing into
my thin, blank chest

a mark
that will be here
forever.

Fire Engine Red

Posted: July 11, 2012 in My Poetry
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Raining ash
for forty days.
Everything’s on fire and
you, with your small words
like “god” and “hope”,
beg to be burnt
to a cinder.

Smoky skies;
days dark with
spent embers from
mountains blazing
with raw fury;
anger,
a question,
answered in flame.

Even futility
is useless
against this towering rage.
The world is aflame.

Hope,
like love,
is a dirty word.
It gives you faith in
nothing and

you, with your petty dreams,
small words
bleeding dry to white spit,
at the corners
of your parched mouth,
are insignificant.

In the face of nature’s wrath.
you are nothing.
No one.

Your words
are sounds
coughed up by
dying animals.

Everyone protests
that last, great
blast of
life.

More Readings

Posted: May 16, 2011 in My Poetry
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I added some more readings. Thanks for the positive feedback!

Random readings from here and there…if you’d like to read along, here are links to the poems, published on this blog. Some others aren’t here, yet. Some are from my book;

Toeing the Line

Hanging Time

That Night

O’ My Father

Grieving Process

To Ty

Painting the Zebra

Cartomancy

Why Be Bukowski?

Posted: April 23, 2011 in My Poetry
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Who cares about
Bukowski?

A lot of people do –
Try to emulate
and fail.

Good old Charlie
had his own voice.

Every poet should.

I didn’t notice
the sky,
like I usually do.

Too many other
things – Sensory
overload.

Police cars
parked haphazardly
lights still on, stained
the snow with color
like some bizarre
Christmas display.

If there was
an emergency,
it was far too late
for you.

Echoing static silence,
so loud it hurt my ears –
The sound of
a bottomless pit
called grief;
a tiny word
for such devouring
emotion.

I knew,
as soon as I opened the door
on that bursting scream
of silence,
that no heroics
would bring you back.

Reduced
to one, tight,
blue-lipped syllable:
“Dead”.

Icy wind & crusted snow,
were witness
to your tears.

Pale stars coldly
oversaw your last
movements;
making sure
you tied the noose
with militant precision.

You stepped off
the antique church bench,
painted cheerful red
and printed so appropriately:
“The best journeys always
lead us home.”

And you went home
to meet your Father,
tears still on your cheeks;
blue eyes open to your future –
dressed in your best clothes.

You are a True Believer.
There was no doubt
in your mind
that you were going home.

Away from the burdens
of this world.
Into the arms
of a loving Father
who understands all
and forgives it –

a brother
who loves you enough
to die, already, for your sins.
We lost you
but gained an angel.

Missing you is like a knife,
cutting deeper every day.

It never goes away.

Audio Reading

A gift,
a curse,
an illness.
I choose,
today,
to think
I’m blessed.

Rejecting
drugged out
normalcy
returned me
to myself.

For the first time
in what feels like
forever,

I see the world
without drug
fogged glasses.

LSD has nothing on
prescribed medication.
My brain clicks now,
with almost forgotten
precision.

You may call me manic.
I call myself a miracle.

Already,
I can’t
remember
the slow song
of the South.

Don’t know
what it was
about you
that fulfilled me
so completely,
I wanted nothing
but you.

I don’t know you
anymore.

I never pictured
this.
I saw us
laughing
in love
for the rest of our lives
and then eternity.

How could I
have mis-
understood
so completely?

I think I simply
trusted too much
in your conviction.

When you said there was
nothing I could do
to make you turn away,
I believed.

All it took
was suicide
and my shatter
in the aftermath.

As far apart
as we were
in actual distance,
we’re much farther
than that now.

Me, in small pieces
I don’t recognize –
they don’t even know
each other,

and you are…?
God knows where
or what these days.

I shower every night
to erase
the tracks
leading back to
me.

Blood
still oozing
from broken
skin,
I smudge a hole
in the fog of the mirror.
There’s no one
looking back.

That’s how much
I’ve disappeared
from both
our lonely hearts.

I wish you’d go
from mine.

For you
it must be a relief
to forget;

for me
it’s just
ground zero.

Ty n Karlee

I see the world
with dog’s eyes
now.

It’s all
shades
of grey.

I can’t see you.
I see around –
strange shimmers
in the shadows.

The baby waves
and says “Hi Ty”
but you’re invisible
to me.

Hidden
from my dry gaze;
faithful as a dog’s.

I don’t cry anymore.
It doesn’t bring color
to my world
or wash away the black;

just makes my face
wet canvas
for someone else’s
paint.

Cheshire Cat

Posted: September 27, 2010 in My Poetry
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Photobucket

Cradled
in the crescent
of that yellow –
white grin,
the shadowed moon
is a feline face.

Corners curve:
rust-red points
of a carnivore;
well-fed
on nocturnal things.