Still Forgotten

It is one thing to die, it is another to be forgotten...

 

Still Forgotten

 

 

Left alone, the abyss of failure

closes in,

for days it seems like weeks,

though months are now reduced to counted minutes

 

Coffin’d stances form the stoic barricade

which surrounds my hope

in picket lines of untrained defectors

 

I claw at its lid,

thrashing mightily to my sides

as collections of miseries

flood this chamber of my coerced sleep

 

“I am here!” I shout,

hearing my words

echo in distance dance halls

two stepping on my memory,

spitting above where I lie

 

Here - a relevant term

as columns of disbelief carve themselves

from my mind.

 

Forgotten, left for dead,

erased from the blackboard

by the firm swishing hand of fate…

reduced to dust (I don’t feel like dust)

 

Blisters climb my arms in search of answers,

none can be found here,

where ever the hell here is… yet, I am here

 

My brain circles the skyline in desperation,

the gutters below cry, trash strewn as if it were me

sleeping off my drunk

in that Frigidaire box

 

“I am me!” I cry to the empty corridors of someone else’s life…

One I’d rather be

Or one who would rather not?

 

                      ~

 

Someday my file may lie open,

atop a desk,

a partitioned sanctuary of hidden ethics,

beneath the crumpled Cheeto’s bag,

now layered with orange crumbs

 

maybe someone will see

 

perhaps…still forgotten

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Thank you for reading

Reviews

[icelandicblue]

There are all different kinds of death and degrees of it too. I think we all wonder how we will be remembered or even if we will be remembered and if we are for how long. I like to think that even if our names are forgotten our good deeds will be remembered in some fashion.

[Jack...]

I'm with you Blue. Thanks so much.

[Bradley Layton]

I agree, when we sit down and think of what we have done in our live or have accomplished in our time, this short life, (I know im still young, but it crosses my mind)and you step back in your own mind and realize how small you are compared to how big the world is... its alot to take in. For instance, when you look in the obituraries and see random faces you kinda just flip on by without a thought... it sucks to think of being only a paragraph, a compilation of your life and who you left behind in a newspaper thats gonna be tossed away at the end of the day. But indeed what matters most is the affect you had on those you care for and love.

[exotic flotsam]

you've artfully gently taken ordinary words, sculpting a darkly touching write. I took away several prophetic phrases. 'columns of disbelief' is atmospheric. a moody, even taciturn ode to the still forgotten. I'm not sure of your dust exchange. dust is our end, but not the end of our dust. now I'm starting to get it. well done. one of the best pieces I've read in some time.
x

[Jack...]

Thank you so very much. I truly do appreciate you visiting my poetry today and leaving such kind words for me. I am thrilled you enjoyed this piece and could take something from it.

[Shivam Murari]

This is one nice piece, is all that I can say :-)

[Jack...]

Thank you so much.

[InsanityWriter]

Amazing and beautiful imagery. :) This is an excellent piece, you've captured a profound feeling.

[Jack...]

Much appreciated my friend.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Oh, I love the form of this one...you have created something splendidly beautiful and yet mournful at the same time. You have a knack for turning words into singing things that dance around my head.

It is funny, because I was just talking with someone last night about being remembered after death. I was thinking about some of the greats...like Plath and Dickinson, and wondering if they realized how much of an impact that they would make once they were gone. I think that we must make ripples in our lives in order to make waves when we are gone. Well penned, sir :)

[Jack...]

"We must make ripples in our lives in order to make waves when we are gone," that line alone is worthy of all of the priase I can muster. I just loved that. What a way to sum it all up. Thank you so much my sweet friend.

[Souladareatease]

A somber write Jack, but indeed worthy...the ponder, the poem and You...a great read this was...the way it was formed I really dig too!!!

[Jack...]

Thanks so much my friend.

[Emerald Seas]

Some things in life hollow us out, little by little, until death of another fashion seizes us. This brought those instances of feeling like a walking skeleton to the forefront in my mind. We can function, or so it would seem to the casual observer, but be dead within. Excellent writing.

[Jack...]

Sera, your words always mean so much to me. Thank you so much.

[Kristin Lee]

Wow, a lot of sadness in this one. Interesting the way you keep talking about crumbs... almost as if you are trying to say that while we are forgotten we can never really we lost all together....but maybe that's a little deep...I've been playing in the woods all day, lol. I really like the imagery in this one and the depth. Good job!

[Jack...]

Thank you Kristin. I appreciate you stopping by

[Bradley Layton]

"erased from the blackboard
by the firm swishing hand of fate…"

It all seems so quick, and we hope the hand of fate wont come before we have really lived, but know and accept that it wont hide forever.
I really like it jack

[Jack...]

Thanks so much Brad, I appreciate you stopping by

[Raven Cedrone]

"beneath the crumple Cheeto’s bag," I believe you want 'crumple' to be 'crumpled' in this line.
This was a deep, profound piece; filled with emotion and truth. I enjoyed the read Jack.
I particularly liked the small sections of words you italicized, giving even more depth to your write.

~Raven

[Jack...]

Thanks Raven, you are correct, I will edit that quickly. Thanks for the kind words.

[Lily Finch]

sad but wildly beautiful poem ..

[Jack...]

Thank you so much