Tag Archives: death

DEAR FRIEND

The pain in my heart
is not for that
who has passed,
dear friend.

The pain in my heart
is having to watch
you fall apart,
again and again.

Knowing,
as I stand idle by,
there is nothing I can do
to make you understand.

Grief is a hard thing,
a battle of the inside.
But its necessary
and unfortunately out of command.

Dear friend,
Time is a current
that flows with no restriction
and with it,
I am certain,
you will come back to me
feeling life more
than when you began.

WILD ANIMALS – Trampled by Turtles

Wild Animals by Trampled by Turtles is just one of those songs that plants itself in my head and continues to grow and grow, my mind and emotions completely entangled with it by the end of a week.

The song begins by swelling and then plummeting to only a pluck of strings. I’m immediately thrown into that feeling, inhaling and exhaling right with them. (It’s actually kind of stress relieving!) The first verse is curious and mysterious. Simonett’s voice starts in telling us about another world that’s really “made for us” because the one here leaves us “trapped in bodies” that are “made to rust.” Is he talking about the afterlife? Continuing, he sings “It’s one that I can break right through/I am ready, how about you?”

After posing that question, the beginning of the song shines through again as the chorus. The wave-like swells take hold and the eerie, scratching of the violin becomes more noticeable, giving way to the spooky side of this track.

The next verse travels further into the theme of afterlife and death. There is a feeling of misbelief with “and this just can’t be happening,” as if to question whether or not death is possible and that it could affect them. But this is directly followed by a strong understanding in finding “everything we need buried deep beneath the leaves.” Almost as if so to say they are comfortable with the final outcome. The chorus’s howl starts back in after this. One could believe that the howling is almost a mark of pain in realizing the finality of life throughout these verses.

In the last verse, a light string arpeggio plucking is heard that reminds (for some reason) of twinkling stars. I doubt that was their intention, but I find it fitting. It as if to say the night is settling in, but even with the darkness there is still light.

The song continues with the Simonett saying that he “can see the better part of you.” But even though that good exists, “I’m a monster just like you/Wild animals it’s true.” I believe this verse gets away from the death theme and delves more into human nature. That even though our intentions are mostly good, there is still flares in the opposite direction stemming from the fact that we are “wild.” Within a person, instinct still exists and can control your reactions/emotions. Whether it be good or bad. Whether that even leads you to bury something under the leaves. Human nature, right?

By the end of the song, I’m always howling with it. It’s too much to resist and to just let yourself be carried by the waves of this song is fantastic. I did get to see these guys at Red Rocks this year, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when they started playing this one. Outside, with the wind blowing on your face and the cool mountain air creeping in, is possibly the greatest way to hear this song.

Please take a listen of the track here and check out the full lyrics below. Please also do yourself a favor and listen to this song with something that can carry bass. Put those five dollar headphones far away.

Enjoy!

“Wild Animals” by Trampled by Turtles (Wild Animals)

Ooooooooooooox4

There’s another world, it’s made for us
Trapped in bodies, they’re made to rust
It’s one that I can break right through
I am ready, how about you?

Ooooooooooooox4

By the coming dark, we try to breathe
And this just can’t be happening
We found everything we need
Buried deep beneath the leaves

Ooooooooooooox4

I see the better part of you
I see the better part of you
But I’m a monster just like you
Wild animals it’s true

Ooooooooooooox4

FOREVERMORE

In the soft, yellow light,

I see your face.

On the wisp of the clouds,

you are there.

Though I cannot touch you,

the distance is too great,

I know you are watching,

wishing me safe.

Storms may shake this earth,

violently breaking it apart.

But you are with me

and never shall we truly part.

BULLETS AND DREAMS

This is a dream. This is not real.

I am not running. I will wake up and I will be home. Asleep. Warm. Home.

Pain shoots through my feet as thorns pierce my bare skin. The blood is warm for a second until it hits the ground. But I don’t feel it. This is a dream.

Guns cannot hurt you in dreams. They fire and pop. The bullets whistle and move. When they finally hit you after a long second has passed, your skin folds in and gives way. The organs are soft feathers to gently cushion the powerful blow. Lodged inside you, it’s hard metal burns. You grasp at yourself, desperately tightening. Squeezing. The hole is small but fatal.

But this is a dream and in dreams you cannot die. Because if you die, there will be no dream. You will wake and it will all be behind you.

Yes.

I stop. My breath paints the dark sky with mist. Dropping to my knees, I notice the rag that was once my night gown. Threads jut from all places, twisted and twined. The white has taken on a darker tone. A witness to my falls.

There is salt in my eyes. The cloudiness blurs the world around me. I look down at the leaf ridden floor. The dampness of the night has begun to sink through the thin gown. My legs begin to grow cold.

I lower myself further. The coolness is a blessing compared to the heat that continues to grow in my belly.

On the ground, I can smell the dirt. A mixture of decomposing foliage and dust.

But it is good here and my muscles begin to relax. I let my eyes close and my thoughts erase. It will be soon now, that I will wake.

DANCING WITH HOURS

The coffin was black. A solid one with only a ribbon of silver along the boning. The rain spilled onto it giving it a murky shimmer.

Fitting, he thought.

He gazed across the earth-gutted hole, catching the faces of her family. They stood erect and solemn, their eyes cast into a distant dream.

“And so we are here, on this day of mourning to say our last goodbyes. Dear Becca was such a kind soul….”

Liza, the mother, was wailing. Her face was puffy and red. Her black dress hugged her unwillingly, revealing gentle bobs of fat that giggled as she cried.

He had never liked her.

“…loss was sudden…tragic…and not to be forgotten, as in our hearts she will always be….”

He let his eyes roll towards a much younger woman standing next to Liza. Her golden red hair curled tightly around her heart-shaped face. Hair just like her sister’s. The tips ended at the fringed lace just above her breasts. Her pale skin was smooth, complimenting her fine figure.

I will have her now.

“..please bow with me in prayer as we bring this soul back to our God.”

He lowered his head, pretending as he had always done. Prayer had never worked. It was just a motion.

He let his shoes sponge the ground, leaving imprints on the surface. This day had come so quickly. He hadn’t noticed Blue Bones. Did he actually miss today?

A small victory. Maybe he finally grew a heart to fill those bones.

“Alec, is there anything you would like to say?” the preacher asked, bringing him back to the moment.

The crowd was staring at him. He felt their eyes piercing at his thoughts. Hesitant, he nodded towards the preacher and move towards the stand. The soft mud squished beneath him.

“Becca stole my heart the first day we met,” he started. “And she never let it go. She was a beautiful woman, thoughtful and giving. She gave so much that…” He searched the crowd for him again. He wanted to be sure.“…often times, I believe she cared more for others than herself.”

“Yet that very spirit is what has brought us here today. She…” He stopped. There he was, in the back, his blue uniform standing out from the drooping black clothes in front of him. He was smiling. God, he hated that smile.

No victory then.

Alec cleared his throat. “She would of never believed what that man was truly capable of. All she could see in him was a broken soul that needed mending…and so she let him in.  Into our house….into our hearts…and painfully into our memories.”

He was still smiling. At the funeral. Smiling.

“I loved her so much. And now…now she’s gone forever.” He looked back down at the black coffin; the white orchards that laid on top were drenched, flattened on the wood.

A hand grasped his shoulder as a murmur began rippling through the crowd.

“I think that’s good enough,” the preacher whispered to him.

Alec shuffled back to his spot, little relief filling him. He hated speeches. And he hated Blue Bones’s smile.

AN APPROACHING CURVE

The smell of gas fumes the air.

I watch Jones glide the lawn mower back and forth over his jagged lawn. Pada-ping-pada-ping.  The machine grumbled at its work. A rock flew from its blade, just shy of my yard.

Daisy, Jones’s old boxer, eyed the mower with suspicion, lowering her floppy face and baring her teeth every time it swished by.

I leaned back in my lawn chair, tasting a cool sip of beer on my tongue. It was only nine in the morning but this August day was already at ninety. Today would be a scorcher.

I caught sight of Ms. Bell scurrying out her door. She was in a blue floral dress with a bible tucked under her arm. She scowled at me as she hopped in her car.

I snickered. Must be Sunday.

I let my head drift back to gaze at the sky, a thundering blue with no cloud in sight. I could feel the sweat starting to bead on my face, my cotton tee soaking it all in.

“Hey, mister.”

A tiny voice yelled at me from the sidewalk. I lowered my eyes to find a short little tyke on a scooter. He was covered for any accident. Boots, gloves, helmets, and knee pads. Some mother loved him.

“Are you dead?” he continued.

My eyes widened at this one. I contemplated for a second on letting my tongue loll out to give him a show but then I thought of that mother that had armored him. I could see it playing all out. Her coming over here yelling and lecturing me about the frailty of children. It wasn’t the threats that scared me. It was the fact of how much she really believed it.

I sighed. “Do I look dead?”

The boy scrunched his eyes, thinking. “Well, you’re really old. You have wrinkles and stuff.” He fidgeted. “And Peter says you smell like poop.”

I leaned hard onto my elbow. You have to earnestly try to not get offended by little folk sometimes.

“So wrinkles make you dead, eh?” I asked.

He nodded quickly. “You have to be old to die, sir.”

I smiled. To be so ignorant is some kind of blessing. Life is so simple; if only it would stay that way.

I twisted my finger at the boy and beckoned him closer. He laid his bike gently on the sidewalk and tip-toed on the grass, giving glances to his backside. His knee pads let out a squeak with each step.

“It doesn’t bite, you know?” I told him as he took a place next to me, motioning toward the grass.

He eyed my bare feet and shifted his weight. “Dad says little boy’s feet will make the grass angry. It will get so angry that it will turn white and then it’s not pretty.”

“Ah, well don’t worry about my grass. It only gets mad at girls.” I winked.

I settled back in my chair and took another sip. “Now I had you on over here because my hearing’s not so good cause, well you know, I’m old. But I also had a special thing to tell you too, I had to make sure you were listenin’.”

The boy squatted closer to me, anticipation spreading across his face.

“I’m not dead. Very much alive in fact. My hearts a pumpin’ and my mind is going. Just like you. Just cause I got a funk to me and some grey don’t mean I’ve gone to the underground, understand? Some folk would find it rude from what you just said to me you know. You got to watch your words.”

He nodded.

“You are going to get old one day too. You’ll be out in your lawn watchin’ the neighbors, enjoyin’ your beverages.” I raised my can. “It’ll be good time, I promise.”

He smirked. “I’m never going to be old. I ate fairy dust.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

I knew what I could say.

But I didn’t.

I let my jaw drop open. “All be darned, you’re one lucky boy. I searched for that same dust when I was your age. Never found it though. And just look at me,” I tossed my hands up.

He shook his head in pity. Suddenly, a wild look passed over his face and he bolted towards his scooter.

“Where you going so fast there?” I yelled.

“I just remembered that I have some left over. I mean, I can’t bring you back to where you were, but I can save you now, before you get really old.” He started pushing off toward the street.

I laughed, wondering what defined really old. I stood up and shouted, “You better hurry along then, who knows how much time I’ve got!”

He shot me back a thumbs up as his little legs pushed against the asphalt with a crazed excitement.  I watched as he crept out of my sight, back from where he had came.

I nestled back into my chair and pulled out another cold one. I wondered if he would bring me sugar from his mother’s cooking jars or salt even. If only it could really save me.

He could never understand life the way I did now. With age comes more responsibility. More truth. More lies. People cherish you until you are a burden. Then they toss you aside like any used item. They don’t have time for you and your needs. It doesn’t matter how much of your life was spent tending to them. In the end, you’re just another carcass waiting to be buried underground. To be shared with dirt and worms.

I sighted recalling the similarity found in both him and me. By the time he gets home, he will forget why he even came.

THE CYCLE

I sliced off its head,

glory in my eyes,

strength in my veins.

 

With a shovel in my hands,

I struck the bone.

No stopping there,

it must be done.

 

It squirmed and squiggled,

Oh, no more will it slither!

 

But now I watch

as another creature,

this one so sweet,

is caught in your jaw,

shaken to the feet.

 

I cry out,

seeing the pain in its dark oval eyes,

But what can I do?

What can I do?

 

You leave it be,

On the grass,

I come closer,

Seeing its short breathe.

 

In its face,

I see its horror,

This is it.

Death is no longer dormant.

 

I coddle it close,

in my hands,

weeping for the soul,

life has been abandoned.

 

An act so similar,

did these hands once commit?

They hold him now,

innocent.

 

What is the difference

between you and I really?

We created a loss for our gain.

And took it so easily.

 

Are we just small parts to be played

in this functioning machine,

fueling the cycle,

is that what life is to be?