NaPoWriMo – Day Twenty-Four – ‘Rum For Your Funeral’

The twenty-fourth prompt was to write an elegy with a hopeful outlook! Technically, I wrote elegy with Among the Stars in Her Anger, but that doesn’t really have a very… uplifting ending. This one isn’t the brightest piece I’ve written by far, but it is for the same person. It is also a lot longer in than I’d originally planned.

‘Rum For Your Funeral’

It was all that coffee and sugar,
The shouting down the hall
About the local newspaper,
What Nancy upstairs was doing,
How the garden was coming along.

It was all those things and more,
The Elvis Presley chocolate, and
Thanksgiving turkey cooked too long,
It was your tin can of a car that you
Sped along in destination to destination.
Living life loud and fast.

But I heard, quietly with fact,
Everything went so smoothly
In an unexpected way on your big day.
It was cloudless, the weather ideal,
There was even a breeze in July.

The pictures were minimal, but perfect.
No one blinked or moved too quickly.
It was all very official and practiced and small.
There was not even enough people there
Who were expected to cry or make a scene.

But they’d heard you liked purple
And all flowers were equal in your eyes,
So the directer brought you a bouquet
With sweet peas and zinnias in thanks
For that oddly absent crowd.

I heard, much later, down the line,
That only two people made it other than you.
I wasn’t even told, no invite to flash and show,
Yet of the rest of the family and friends only two
Were well behaved enough to go, but maybe
That was an wild exaggeration in memory
Of the boisterous, unruly person you always were.

I took a shot of rum in my coffee for your funeral,
And quietly agreed it was lame, your final big day.
I remembered all your laughing like thunder,
The baked bread, diet Pepsi, food your doctor
Would swear something fierce if he saw you eating.

And, I remember the arguing and slammed doors.
The last time I saw you, all dressed up to a T
In the court as you took my side, backing me
Against family, because of what family can do.
You knew, you saw, you talked when they refused.
Why not let you make some drama on your way?
They may have let you die quietly, such a shame,
But now you lay loud in your grave.

If you enjoy my writing please try and support me by checking out my book Moth-Like. or my chapbook Simple Acrostics of Silly Desperation available on Amazon now! Also don’t feel afraid to comment or review on anything I post – I’d love to hear from you!


GloMoWriMo – Day Three – ‘I’ll Fight ‘Em’

Good afternoon! Today’s GloMoWriMo prompt is to do a list poem using made up names and it was quite fun! I chose fighting moves. With this piece I’m officially caught up and should resume a semi-normal posting schedule!

‘I’ll Fight ‘Em’

My sister, ya’ve got a problem
And he’s about to be a mile long.
I’ll fix ’em for ya, for sure, I’ll give ’em
The Left Handed Brandy with some
Broken in Rocks, let ’em look at you again
And I’ll give him Two Pink Oranges
That I’ve had ready for ’em since last week.
He’ll know hell before he challenges heaven
Again – or I’ll show ’em the Last Man Lost
To teach him a true lesson about touching
Things he thinks he owns. If he talks to ya,
If he talks at ya again, like that, well,
Baby doll, I’ve got a Charlie’s Childhood Trauma
Waiting for ’em behind the Mad Boys Mall.
I’ll fight ’em from the south end of Concord
To the northern tip of Discord he thinks he can
Think about anybody, any bit of ya, like that

If you like my writing please check out my book Moth-Like. It can be bought on Amazon here.

Word of the Day – Depredate – ‘Noon Time Sun’

Today’s word of the day is depredate, a verb signifying to lay waste, plunder, or ravage. It’s been a very interesting and trying summer. I hope everyone else’s was much calmer and relaxing.

‘Noon Time Sun’

I know a woman who loves with spite-
Immoral all the decisions she does not make,
Hateful all the people she does not love.

She’s the noon time sun, and she’ll depredate
Everything left out under her eyes, her eyes which
Will blind you if you ever try to meet her head on.

It’s been a hellish summer like every other,
But this time it’s also something different, something
Inane that’s begun to drive me mad with regret.

I know a woman who takes no criticism,
But agrees she can be petty after she slams
All the doors leading in and within our little apartment.

Everything bakes beneath her flares of rage – it’s petty,
Yes. she knows it’s petty, all those rages from the cup on the counter
Left out by herself, but she forgot so it’s mine, always mine, again.


If  you like my writing please check out my book Moth-Like. It can be bought on Amazon here.

Word of the Day – Schadenfreude – ‘Bad House-Mate’

Today’s word of the day is schadenfreude, a German word that’s slowly being adopted into English. A schadenfreude is a person who enjoys the troubles others face. It’s like malicious joy. Schaden is the German word for harm or damage, and freude the word for pleasure.


‘Bad House-Mate’

It wasn’t that you refused to clean,
You were born, obviously, in a more pristine
Environment than us, the unfortunate
People who’s parents didn’t make enough,
Or raise us right instead of beating us with a belt.

It wasn’t that your rent was turned in late,
Always late and magically never given in full.
We always seemed to make enough to cover your mistakes:
Too much spent shopping, that trip to Miami, dinner
With more important, richer friends at the latest place.

It wasn’t that we always paid for the groceries,
Paid for the Internet, paid for new dishes and silverware,
Furniture we needed, you know so we knew too, we needed
Everything you said would make us seem a little more decent.
What if one of your friends, our friends, were to come over?

It also wasn’t that you demanded we give you respect
Freely, yet for us we needed to prove ourselves first in
Your precious baby blue eyes, whose to say our past doesn’t
Still haunt us – what if we had itchy fingers and a case of laziness.
You always needed to make sure we knew how to work.

Again, it wasn’t that you refuse to listen or learn
Even when you asked to be taught – look, i understand,
Learning to balance a checkbook or load the dishwasher is something
Very unsophisticated, but it needs to be done. The intricate details
Of self-sufficiency are many and hard to remember, I know.

We know, you never considered yourself to be the bad house-mate,
Never locking the door, but proudly boasting that you carried the key.
Money was your security growing up, can’t we see? With that only our
Messes mattered. Only our responsibilities, our downfalls, our less than yours
And less than respectable upbringing. It’s hard to live with us I know.

But it was never necessarily the things you did which pilled up
Piece by piece like the dirty laundry that spread all over your floor.
It wasn’t always the things you did to us when you expected us to do more.
It was the way, and why, and how you chose to live with us like a punishment,
Like a chore unless we did everything for you only to have you demand praise.


If you like my writing you should check out my book Moth-Like.! It’s available on Amazon in multiple countries!

Word of the Day – Crucible – ‘Slam Your Door’

Today’s word of the day is crucible, or a sever test. I had a little trouble naming this one, I considered naming it ‘Test of Time and Love’ but it didn’t feel quite right… I might write a poem with that title, but I feel like it would be a little lighter or maybe upbeat.


‘Slam Your Door’

I thought it was all a test
Of love, they said give it patience
And more love, I tried, but
I failed.

It was good, while it was good.
You loved words
I loved words.
We talked often enough, but
You think we would’ve talked more,
Enough to avoid this.
There should have been more songs
We could sing happily together.

But in time,
Very little time,
Just a matter of time,
Every doubt I voiced became your anger,
Every disappoint I placed turned into
Another slammed door left behind,
Left in your withering wake.

The house is breaking,
I thought it was all a test of love,
And patience. Everyone said to give it time,
So I gave all my time to waiting and worrying.
I pleaded in silence while you screamed in defiance.
This house, our home now house,
Is breaking apart around us,
The dishes are shaking from the the counters,
To the sink, on to the floor.

You refuse to meet my eyes or speak,
Declared, at some point,
We won’t talk if I can’t be civil.
I’ve become immoral because my love is weak.
Once, I spoke words in doubt towards your actions,
Shameful, I am so shameful you asserted-
Why can’t I ever simple trust
That you know what is for the best of us.

I thought it was suppose to be a test-
But I can’t give it anymore time
Or anymore of my patience and love.
You think we’d love enough to not fight
About the worthiness of my words.
I agree I am weak, forgive me, so please,
Slam your doors, Baby, this house isn’t mine.
Slam your doors, you can now brake
The house completely this time.
Just add what’s left of the dishes
To the floor.


Book Update below:

Moth-Like. (the book I’m publishing) is coming along nicely. The eBook format is almost complete and should appear on Amazon sometime next week for about $4, maybe a few cents more. The physical edition of the book might take a little longer as I have to reformat it and then order a few test prints to make sure it looks right. I’m shooting for early August and it’ll be about $6 to $8. There will be no difference between the digital and physical editions other than the typography – having flexible text is really important in eBooks, which limits a lot of what I can do.