Last Request

Now I lay me down to sleep.

For my bones, do not weep.


I do not lay here wanting grief;

In my rest I’ve found relief.


No more worrying over day to day affairs;

No more crying over unhappy cares.


In the earth I now have peace;

In the quiet all has ceased.


All my sorrows are washed away;

No more suffering, no more dismay.


Weep not, I say, for what is gone

Look to others, look to your own.


Care for those who continue to struggle,

Care for those who cannot juggle


The mind’s chess game with them as pawn.

Weep for the living, those who walk alone.


Turn your eyes and hands to them,

Let your love be their stem.


For it may be their life was spared

Because of you and those who cared


To see the pain behind their tears,

Who understood and calmed their fears.


Then come the morning and the rising sun

Come to me and say, “Thy will was done.”


And I will smile in my sleep

Because you did not weep.


*Probably a good idea to not snack too close to bedtime…you know, in case you wake up crying from a dream you can’t remember and the lines to a poem running through your head and neither will let you get back to sleep.




Tell me to keep going one more time

Because you think I can do it

Tell me everything is possible

As long as I want it bad enough

Oh, but don’t you know


Sometimes the pain is too much

And I’ve no more stamina

My endurance is pushed to its limits

And I can’t keep going.


Where are you then

Where are you then

When I’m on my knees

I’ve given in

Where are you then

Where are you then


Take these pills

It will get better

Keep going

You’re made of strength


Oh, but don’t you know

Determination only goes so far

When the demons come out to play

And don’t you know, oh, don’t you know

They know where my darkest fears reside


Where are you then

Where are you then

When the world attacks and my cave crashes in

Where are you then

Where are you then

When I’ve given in


Keep your blue stripes

Keep your rainbow ribbons

I’ve got no more stamina

Endurance pushed to the limits

It’s time to simply…




*Not everything can be cake and ice cream days. Sometimes you’ve got to just let the storm rage and make it through. Not that it’s raging for me currently but somewhere someone’s storm is hurricaning through them. (Yes, I made that a verb.) This is what it feels like for me when I just can’t take anymore “helpful” consolation, even though I know they mean well.

Mercy Killing

No Love Lost


Strike the final blow, old thing
I’m laying down my swords
I can’t match, nor outdo your game
The prize already yours

In what world or circumstance
Could e’er the truth define
That such an exquisite masterpiece
Might be determined ‘mine’

Nay, dispel; dispatch already
Pour smite upon my head
Cleave it from my emptied thoughts
And heart, and world, and bed

Though smitten, turn my depthless eyes
Away – no more to see
That which I knew before the start
‘Not mine’ and ne’er would be

So let that death-blow topple me
We danced but sure, you won
Removal next – so delicately
It might’ve already begun.

A monsterous little tantrum

A Monsterous Little Tantrum

I saw you write your loss, my dear

As though pixels, ink, or words themselves

Would ever be sufficient to contain, convey or confine

The feelings running so deep and guilty within you.

You somehow appear to assume full blame

For rippling worlds and waves which capsize

Yet you can make all the waves you want;

Until someone waves back, and takes their part

Then surely no destruction could be wrought

And without intent, just mutual enjoyment

Then no malice given, just accident

SURELY two people, with full appraisal

And consent, might see fit to fly

Imaginations bound in wonder, words reaching high

Finding ways to reveal the worlds

Or presents, pasts or futures or parallels

Without sanction or judgement

From another, wholly unconnected

With what it meant to write poetry.

For when you find someone

Who makes your words flow easily

Who gets your stanzas unconfused

Who causes your mind to think in rhyme

You know they are, in ways, your muse

And given sufficient time

Such wonderful things could be created

And yet here you are

You, your muse


*   *   *

Yet even as I write

It strikes me

I shall never know the whole story

All I know is that you’re quickly hurt

You love so fast and so intensely

There are some for whom this categorises you

As ‘flirt’, but having seen

A little of your heart

Seems like they just don’t understand

How honourable you are

And how willing (when you make mistakes

Because they happen – to us all) you are to make amends

To fix the roughened edges; heal the breaks

And yet, to see you fall upon your sword

Berate yourself, cut ties, to satisfy

Some unknown person in another world

Who may well be insatiable

And in constant need of being filled

A black-hole for attention

Too damn altogether chilled

Or shut down frozen in their own pain

To get to know you better;

Relax and unwind –

Because to know you

Is to love you,

I find.