Bukowski for fallen compadres.

Just wanted to circulate a little poetry throughout the wonder of the Universe this afternoon.

April makes me think of Seans, yeah plural. One died the eleventh and one's birthday should've been the twentieth. Sad fates met far too soon for such kind people.

On gorgeous Spring days, I do wish I could show them how beautiful the world and life truly is, but alas, I missed my chance at that. The sky is so blue it makes me want to cry for lack of words to describe its beauty. The palm trees rustle for me in the wind and mimic the sound of waves crashing on a sandy shore. I breathe easily, lightly. Smiles come readily to my lips and eyes. I always hope that as I age, I develop those great laugh lines that testify to the world that life has been lived well and thoroughly enjoyed.

Tears come easily also, but not in the mad rush of emptiness; just a fallen drop or two bringing the bittersweet knowledge that life is to be treasured not endured. Had I only spread those words to the world sooner... who knows?

I do believe with conviction that things happen as they should; hard as that can be to stomach in situations like these. For whatever purpose, sometimes the good truly do die young and for what means? I doubt I will ever know.

If nothing else, I can say what they will miss, makes me appreciate what I still get to experience. The world is open to me. I get to try and drink every wine, dance every song and taste every flavor out there.

And maybe if I do it with enough zeal while keeping them in my heart, their spirits will get to do the things they didn't.

Now the poetry, a little Sat afternoon Buk:

1. For Jane

225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?
in this room
the hours of love
still make shadows.

when you left
you took almost
everything.
I kneel in the nights
before tigers
that will not let me be.

what you were
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.

2. Cause and Effect

the best often die by their own hand
just to get away,
and those left behind
can never quite understand
why anybody
would ever want to
get away
from
them

Now remember:

Unbeing dead isn't being alive. ~e.e. cummings

So, live and let my message to the world today be,
please don't kill yourself because once you do, you are dead and that sucks for everybody.
:)