I mistakenly thought the departed
could have nothing more to say, but I was wrong.
For me, the dead do make a commotion.

I hear them all the time in discussions
I have with them about things left unsaid
when they were here, with you and I.

Do you talk with them too? I wonder
if you’ll share what they say to you.
We’ve no reason to keep this to ourselves now.
I just want to listen to all they were.

She turns up her nose at the marker there
Which lets each family member label their red plastic cup.
Big gatherings frequently number thirty or more,
Enough to use the package contents up.
Rather than waste them by losing track
And having to get another to use,
A name printed in black saves the day
And makes one’s cup harder to lose.
“Tacky” she says with an arrogant air
And gives us the glare we know well.
She’s out in the country in body but soul-
Wise she’s really a big city swell.

Psyche wracked with agony
impossible mission to extricate lovely bones
they wanna remain permanently abed.

I chiefly function to amass knowledge
courtesy assiduously, habitually,
and judiciously reading
an eclectic assortment of written material.

Yours truly woke
with ambition, disposition,
inclination, and predilection
to glean from an assortment
of books esoteric learning
since... birth, but particularly
when experiencing emerging adulthood
about two score years ago.

Welcome to my suicide

To the place where I died

Put a hole through my head

A bullet is not why I am dead

Life was a nightmare in a dream

Nothing was what it seemed

Pressure falling on me like a ton

Took all of it until I was done

I tried to find myself a cure

There was only one way I was sure

Now I lay in this grave, dead

Thoughts of me in no one's head