Seventeen poems in search of God


Waves of shock and disbelief
Relentlessly rack your grief
You wander through empty rooms
Sucking in cigarette fumes

You pray for vindication
Please God an indication
Some semblance of her presence
A hint the slightest essence

Amid the silence so black
You cry I want my wife back
There is no answer of course
No heavenly tour de force

You drift into deep ennui
A dead immobility
Drained of energy and will
You just sit there very still

This is your existence now
Life itself you disavow


Have you ever wanted to cut your brain
clean out of your head and end the pain
of so many of your loved ones dead
just rip out your brain and end the dread
No one understands that it never ends
extended family and random friends
Get over it they say
people die every day
We do not mean to be indifferent
but why should you be any different?
We know you have known much pain
but come on man this is insane
you still have plenty of life
for godsake put down the knife


I want to know
Amid my grief
And disbelief
Where did they go
My wifes immortal atoms
Scattered and reassembled
An afterlife dissembled
Need to know when my time comes
What to look for
What direction
Conic section
Which cosmic shore
Or was there no transduction
Of claimed immortality
Just one more brutality
In a godless destruction


Commune with me my wife my soulmate
You were a believer you had faith
You believed in the spiritual world
So I am calling out to you now
Wherever you are in that unknown
Give me a sign anything will do
The slightest sensation perception
That your spirit is out there somewhere
And not stone cold dead and unaware


Have you ever had your wife die
And you cannot believe she’s dead?
To stop from going mad you deny
You do not recognize the dread
You walk alone though empty rooms
Looking for your wife your soulmate
In a haze of cigarette fumes
You cannot bear to contemplate
That she will never be here again
Gone forever you know not where
But you know you cannot maintain
Life without her you cannot bear


He has lived his life
He is seventy-seven
Lucky numbers in heaven

He just lost his wife
Lost is a good word for dead
Whatever you may have read

You have no notion
Guessing doesn’t get near it
Do they become a spirit

Rejoin the ocean
Unaware as before birth
Or do they depart this earth

And disassemble
At the speed of light traverse
A fantastic universe

To reassemble
In an unknown phenomenon
Lost but perhaps not gone


I’m not ready to rejoin humankind
I keep in touch on this site obliquely
Wrought words from a semiconscious mind
Rendered honestly albeit bleakly
I admit under scientific law
And the force of reality’s duress
That my wife does not exist anymore
No memory no dreams no awareness
Disappeared into the darkness of death
The same as if she had never been born
Back to oblivion with her last breath
And for me a hell that darkens each dawn


People decry insanity 
But permit me a profanity
I would rather be fucking insane
Than suffer the unbearable pain
Of losing my wife the love of my life
Who kept me sane who saved my life
Who kept me from the handgun
At the suicide of my son
And the death of my mother
And the death of my brother
Without her steady by my side
I too would be a suicide
I try to go on without her
But quite frankly I would prefer
To lose my mind and take that gun
And blow myself to kingdom come


I sleep past noon head deep in the pillow
Rain on the roof and the wind does billow
No will to rise since the death of Willow

For more than thirty years we shared a bed
Then from out of hell a stroke struck her dead
Life ever since has been unliving dread

Devoid of will I am locked in the past
Remembering the years that passed so fast
Me the vagabond and Willow steadfast

Always there for me at journeys end
She was my wife my soulmate best friend
Now in death did she ascend or descend

Rise to the sky or stay down in the earth
Is it oblivion as before birth
Or in realms unknown spiritual rebirth

Knowing her eternal destination
Might bring about merciful cessation
To my own life sentence of damnation

I do not expect an answer real soon
I do not expect the gods to commune
Thus I stay in bed until way past noon


Amid much controversy
People speak of God’s mercy
In a world so barbaric
The view is so chimeric
I see more malevolence
Than so-called benevolence
Let’s be realistic here
The “Good Lord” is one to fear


When my wife died the music died
December the twenty-first
The music we loved is now cursed
And turns my thoughts to suicide

Silence now is my sanctuary
I reach out and try to connect
Her energy to resurrect
The mind versus death’s savagery

Communion is my only hope
To be imbued with her spirit
Stillness is music I hear it
Put away the suicide rope


I think I figured it out
This whole afterlife debate
Death is simply a return
To pre-life oblivion
The state before we were born
When we had no awareness
Because we were not alive
We were just as dead as death
The same death that follows life
We simply go full circle
Go back to oblivion


Do not call me after eight at night
By that time I’m as high as a kite
Gin is the 80-proof solution
To my lousy life’s dissolution

Alcohol-cide is my chosen fate
Since the death of my wife my soulmate
A bullet a knife are too gory
I’d rather drink my way to Glory


The living room is now the dead room
My wife’s armchair now an empty chair
In the months since she died I have tried
I have cried and I have screamed and dreamed
For the relief of holy belief

But my prayer evaporates in air
Into emptiness and nothingness
No hope ever we’ll be together
All that is left for one so bereft
Endless sorrow dreading tomorrow


In the moonlight
The backyard is a cathedral of trees
Tall and forthright
Swaying ever so slightly in the breeze
I look beyond
Searching the sky for my spiritual wife
A cosmic bond
Immortal atoms in an afterlife

My wife believed
And I pagan pray for faith every day
A soul retrieved
Set free and eager to be on my way
A reunion
With the love of my life and one true friend
Sweet communion
O destiny heed these words I have penned


My search for God traversed land and sea
I finally found Him in Ward 3C
He appeared to have been smoking crack
I told him straight I want my Helen back!

Saith He Is that Helen of Troy so fair?
No no it’s Helen of Queens with jet black hair
To which He defensively replies
I had nothing to do with her demise

Bull! The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh
He lowered his breath and thus spaketh
Don’t fall for that they’re finally on to me
Why the hell do you think I’m in Ward 3C?


I am so weary of death
And weary of writing about death
For the rest of my life I will be bereft

Because death crushed the last breath
Of my two brothers and my son Seth
And lastly the cruelest of all my wife Beth

But now as I catch my breath
I’ve nothing left to say about death
So henceforth and hereafter to hell with death.

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