Elegy for Paul Squires

It's longer than my usu stuff, but broke it up into parts.

He's dead.

No deep metaphors
No sly allusions
No masking imagery

He's dead.

No theological conjecture
No philosophical consolations
No poetic catharsis

Platitudes are necessary lies

He's dead.

It's science
It's math

Life ≤ Death

Even Pi is more eternal
Its unfathomable tail
Trailing into infinity


He doesn't.

Some will counter

'His dreams live on'

I don't.

His dreams parish with him
Like all sustenance inside
A broken fridge

His unique blend of passion
Humor and insight, joie de vivre

Gone.

No other way to put it.

No euphemisms to deceive:

"passed away"
"moved on"
"rests in peace"
"crossed over"
"departed"
"returned home"
"dwells in the bosom of God"

He's dead.
He's fucken dead

Paul is dead.

Now we only have left overs
A tribute albumPictures of boats
Relics from Troy

No, the person Paul is dead.

His beauty exploded
Like shrapnel, it's lodged
Inside our minds

His essence diluted
Like a once vast shimmering ocean
forking, forking into manifold
rivers, creeks, brooks

Rushing, flowing, trickling
Through our trembling body

Then


II.

He fell from a great height, literally
Dreaming to his death

In his journey, he flew high
Above his beloved Australia
Crossing shadowy plains and dusky hills
Until finally he whisked over
An aqua-blue undulating radiance
Seemingly gliding beneath him
He graciously moved, a torrent
Brushing his craggy scruffy face
Towards that bronze haze
Of setting sun
He converged on its illumination
Not some artificially constructed
Light at the end of the tunnel
Not synapses snapping
And neurons desperately convulsing
He swam through that soft sky
To the imminent sun

The jagged rocks cracked his skull
Awakening him to a new being

Where the body no longer writhes in interminable pain


Where the light and warmth far-flung
Across the dark empty boundless universe

Coalesces

III.

There's a stoic in me stirring:

Do not weep, for death is inevitable
The cessation of sensation, thus, suffering
It should be endured magnanimously
As if it were just another autumn day

There's a monk in me murmuring:

Death and Life are one, it is a cycle
Perpetual as the four seasons
Weep not, for you do not weep when winter
Numbs your limbs or frosts your lips

But I am not wise enough to remain unmoved
I am not a stone or a grain of sand in a zen garden
I will sob in spite of protestations
No one rebukes the clouds for raining
Nor the rose for wilting when it snows
I will grieve selfishly and dramatically
I will pound my chest and yank my roots
I will wail like a madman in a padded cell
I will be inconsolable and pitiful
I will be the lowliest creatures, forlorn
I will wear black, smoke and swig all night
I will brawl for the slightest of provocations
I will stay aloof from those closest to me
I will be judged and scorned by martians
Poking and prodding, but never understanding
Truly, they will retort 'it's not the first death'
And I will either nod silently or spit in their faces
I will make no apologies for my tears
I will store them in a glass jar and exhibit them
Like an urn on the mantle, there, next to the tv
For everyone displayed while they're laughing at game shows

IV.

Death adds another layer
Of meaning to facts
An extra wave
That resonates
Through the body
Like a bell - rung
It is like discovering
A new interpretation
Of an artwork
That deepens understanding
That some how amplifies
Our humanity
Then one wonders
How can I have gone
So long in ignorance?
How can I have staggered
Like a cripple?
Feeling only the echoes
Of songs, the texture
Of dry brittle leaves
Hearing only the howling
Of the whipping wind
Seeing only the shadows
Of passing birds
Touching words
Like an illiterate fumbling
His fingers over braille
The fullness of life
Ripens only with death
Death is the space
That frames a statue
Without it, life is
Simply 2-dimensional
An object perceived, half-felt
Not a subject, wholly
Encompassing
For this gift bestowed
I thank you, Death. Death.

V.

Here lies Paul Squires
Matador of desires

Chugging with the crew
Writing for the few

Like his three-legged mutt on the street
Shadowing the drunk in retreat

Back to his piss-soiled alley
Not some green blossomed valley

Not some mansion up hill
Nor some beach house to kill

But on the high perilous mast
He sings, roars, thunders full-blast

Here lies forever forever Paul Squires
Sailor of fires

Author's Note

Paul Squires, AKA, Paul Gingatao, AKA Ghost of Pauls, died, and this is my tribute to him. He was an awesome person and poet, and deserves a better elegy, but here it is anyways.

Me rambling about the person, poetry, and background of the piece



Me reading it to Beethoven's 7th, 2nd Mov (Allegretto)



In case you want to know more about him, I strongly recommend you click on this link: paulgingatoa Or you can just hear the podcast on my profile to listen to his talent.

Here are two reflections on him here that I know of:

Narnie

GFranklin

Reviews

[Brad]

i visited the link, wow, wish i knew this man before hand.

critique: "Pie" mathmatically is "Pi" that is all for editing
content: a bittersweet eulogy, an honest one, and i love the dig on those obligatory euphamisms on death. so many times, and well meant, these idiots clammer to wish you well and sometimes make you feel worse. i don't care if "god called them home" or if "they're in a better place" or any of that bullshit. dead is dead. a finality for the living. sure they may go on somewhere else, but they're not here and that's what matters most to the survivors.

honestly an excellent write, my new friend, i felt the tears, heard the teeth gritting, and felt the warmth you felt for him.

[A. Amos]

This was not an easy one, however only an artist like you can do justice to such an amazing tribute. Well done my friend!

[Alessander]

Thanks, Amos. I realize this was a bit longer than usual, but glad you stuck through it.

[A. Amos]

It was well written buddy and your most welcome!

[Frontier]

"Weep not, for you do not weep when winter
Numbs your limbs, and frosts your lips"Really liked this part

Also the part about Pi, loved it.

[Alessander]

Thanks, Frontier! Happy you liked the PI part.
Certain parts of this poem I think I can improve, but other parts are ok I guess.

[Leslie Philibert]

You have done your fellow poet a great honour in writing such a moving tribute to him.
The last line is awesome and would fit well in a Dylan Thomas poem.Your style,when I think about it is very like Thomas, rich and melodic, full of tempo.A very good piece of literature.

[Alessander]

Thanks, Leslie. Wow, I don't think I've ever been compared to Dylan b4, except the drinking part lol
I really appreciate you reading this. "Death Poems" are the most difficult, in my view.

[Emily B]

perish, dear

I didn't know Paul. I knew several that loved him.

It's a funny thing about being dead. I don't fear dying. I've had more and better conversations with my dad since he died than I ever did while he lived. I don't know how he got to be so wise.

[Collin Hinds]

Ah, that hit the spot, Alessander. Very good stuff. Death, dying and whatever lies beyond--if anything--is a formidable topic to tackle. Without it we ignore an essential dimension of living, just like you said. Again, I like this.

[MaggieSummers]

Absolutely powerful and brilliant tribute to an amazing man. This rocked me to my soul. Thanks for telling it like it is... Passionate and honest. Thank you.

[Sarah]

I love the honesty in this poem, often times in poetry death is written about as something beautiful or magical, but not here. The harsh truth is revealed and you write about it as the solemn and irriversable act that it is. I admitt I'm not really familiar with the man you dedicated this to and so some of this is probably lost on me, but I appreciated the poem nonetheless. Great work! And my apologies for taking so long to review this!!!

[George Love]

What a tribute and Eulogy. Most excellent work. I think he would be proud of you for doing this.

[Lydia Blackwell]

I have never heard of this person. I thought parts of your writing were brilliant, as always. But it went on a bit too long for my limited attention span. You are always rock solid in your language and meanings. I want to say, a fitting effigy, but that usually holds a negative connotation, which I don't mean. I can't find the right words. Good, but too long, toots. But I still love your work:)

[Invisible Ink]

I need to give this a lot more time than I have right now, but let me just say, dam! great write! and save the rest for another day when I can do some kind of justice in my response.