In my dreams
You are always smiling
And tell me
Is my Father taking good care of you
Mrs Moshesko?
It was amazing that you
Lived to be 100 years old
Please tell me if you love to live
In heaven?
Yes you are telling me
That there is a place for me in heaven
Mrs Moshesko
God wakes you up in heaven
You get 3 meals a day
And it is fit for a king
Also during the day
You work in gods
Gardens
Removing the weeds
You tell me it is a hard job
I understand

When the Music has stopped singing
Our memories are abound
Do we forget the sounds?
The peeling paint that knows our lies
Songs with tears in their eyes

Old boots nestled in the doorway
Dust settled in their seams
Maybe the day will arrive to shake it away
Most definitely not today.

Three days past the rain you sent for me.
A zephyr through my heart.
Where the hell do I start?.
Pride is just a heavy stone no-one sees you pack.

Rewriting Memory

Perhaps it was because I was young and didn’t know
Or because I was depressed and at my wit’s end
That in making detailed plans to take my life
I was contradicting everything I had penned

I was in that dark place where I saw no light or hope
Unhappy with the situation I was in
So there I was, lost at the end of the rope
Without faith and everything I had believed in

they paid him to cave to demands
washing little kids' blood off their hands
"They gave me a gift."?!?!
it's the ultimate grift!
there's blood in the oil of Iran

affected courtesy the most vile creature
that walked the face of this Earth
depriving readers the opportunity
to enjoy a thought provoking poem

Rewriting Memory

There was always a kind of sadness in your eyes
Even when you were baby and looked at me
There was always this emotive tone in your voice
So young and yet so full of melancholy

In those days there was an innocence in your face
While I prayed that you’d remember our special time
But as you grew there was dejection in your soul
One I knew would spread by some other grand design

At his service, I placed a baseball card near the casket
of an amazing athlete we both had admired.

I couldn’t believe my friend was gone.
Something in the heart, I learned.

We both called each other "Bo."
He, out of charity for my feelings.

I called him Bo because of his talent
in sports of all manner.

I cannot recall the details of the card I left for him,
but I remember the finality of the beautiful finish on the coffin.

To be Life, earns you the privilege of passing Death
Careless are the seasons when you take that last breath

Those now live within the answers of our awaiting fate
We are the wicked left behind, grieving at Shushan’s Gate

Endure the shadowy crows who shepherd you peacefully through the fog of dark night
Dearly crown souls bypass safely toward the sandy white shores of the Lunar Twilight