Button

I fixed on a black button on the floor.
Was it there before, or did it spring
from the shirt they ripped off to intibate?

The room rang in silence,
and her electric tension
as she brushed hair from his forehead.

He was peaceful in his final condition.
Never a cautious man, he lived full
and laughed hard. He fought for the forgotten,
unfortunate and even undeserving.

He loved with a heart so big
it swelled his chest, and welled
up in his head
until he hurt from loving too hard.

We all hurt
next to his bed,
next to a button on the floor.

The last words of the infantryman

Should the last of us be here today
Then none more need be said
But should you be, my son, instead
Then I am never dead.

For my life has been spoken for
And lived unto its last
But you, my son, can carry on
And honor what is past.

The circle of the name shall see
Some rise and others fall-
May you be the best of us
And stand tall.

The last war

Love lined baskets under the eternal moon
Filled with Last Hopes Beer.
Drink the poison until there's none;
That oughta help the fear.

One last breath of toxic air
Goes so well with rotten drink-
Swear you'll put them down tomorrow
At least that's what you think.

Forget I know you better, friend
Or enemy depending on situation
You're so good at wearing hats
Just be honest and let's wage war.

Live among the fetish folk
Armed with your black shield
Fighting the battle never won
After losing what was real.

And you will fight another day
For empty battle fields
Earning merit and building castles
To fill with all your nothing.

The walking shadow

It feels empty in this house.

Like the construction zone where spirits go;
Building the mosoleum.

It feels empty in this house.

Where people live in cells that block mind and music
From deep within the heart from coming out.

It feels empty in this house.

Where I once was and died so I
Could find some semblance of "life" in hell.

I remember the fire

I remember quick and strong
When sexual tension was only wars with sticks in our forest kingdom.
I remember the glistening matte finish on magic cards before they retired-
I remember the fire.

I remember learning mean
When fights were done with fists and love was unrequited
When letters were left in desks and French kissing was what inspired
I remember the fire.

I remember the struggle
Of becoming a young Adonis and finding out it meant little to the world in love
I remember playing a character on a stage of dreams and I inspired!
I remember the fire.

I remember traveling
And wandering the world seeking my place.
I remember love of fine drink and intoxicating fantasy in reality
Waking up completely surrounded and utterly alone
Far away from home looking for a new home
Dying not to ask and still having money wired
I remember the fire.

I remember the tiny face that changed my world
His alien, black eyes waking from a cacooned sleep in a prison of maternal ecstacy
I remember never loving his mother more as she perspired-
I remember the fire.

Then fires embered in the consequential silence
Lack of money and adventure caused a need for details to inspire
I forgot the fire

And we stayed inside like cold, rainy days in the fire
Where we waited for life
And now waited for death
And with nothing to retire
We had to work with no reward
And further quench the fire.

Now sitting with flint and kindling
Forgetting about the matches and gasoline
I've lost the advantage of youth:
I've lost the inspiration and the elation
Trading it for castles, fear of failure and a few dollars to retire-
I remember the fire.

A moment of silence