Author: Jared Abraham

rainy saturday morning

poetry

as the clouds blot out the sky
darkness spreads through the drapes
and into my living room,
casting me in shadow
and the wish that
the sun would stop shining
and darkness would expand,
until there is no difference,
between night and day,
between day and night,
and this moment would last.

it’s been five years,

poetry

since we last talked
(if yelling is talking),
and i got mad,
and you got mad;
we all got mad,
and in the end
i gave you up
and the ensuing silence said
“you aren’t my father,
and you never were,
and you never will be,
and i never want to see you again.”

and there’s nothing like death
to draw me back,
to bring me back to say
“you gave me some of the best times
of my life, and I don’t know
who I would be without you,
and i love you, despite your fuck-ups;”
the very things that i can’t say,
that i never will say,
as you lie dead
in a morgue
in pueblo,
colorado.

right now i feel like a rockstar,

poetry

reveling in my unanimous appeal
seemingly accepted by all
for no reason whatsoever,
other than just being myself,
hoping that i won’t be discovered
as the fraud that i might be,
as the fat-kid in school
that everyone likes
but no one really cares about,
except to make fun of,
every now and then,
in a joking, aren’t we still
friends sort of way.

panic

poetry

i feel it down below
and soon i’ll have to let go,
letting it me and everything consume
by reminding me of what all looms;

but before i can let it have full sway,
i still need to work this day away,
without giving in to the mind-knumbing panic
that i know will cause me to become manic.

the summer’s ending

poetry

the summer’s close
is drawing near
and i would like
nothing more
than to dig in my heels
and stay right here
in the glorious summer,
reminiscent of my youth,
where there is no work
and there is no time,
where responsibility
is just a word
and does not concern me,
at least for the summer,
the beautiful summer
where anything is possible.

memorial definitions

poetry

you were the kindest person
i had ever known,
and you just so happened
to also be a conniving lier,
lying to everyone
for who knows how long,
lying to yourself
to keep your self-perception focused
on the good that you did
on how you served everyone unceasingly
on how you gave openhandedly
on how you loved unabashedly
on how you always put others first;
until that one night when
for once you acted
for yourself
alone,

with a .45 to the brain.

does that change
who you were?
who you are?

two weeks ago today,

poetry

the unbelievable happened,
surprising all who heard,
leaving only questioning thoughts
of the “what the fuck?” type,
along with tears,sighs,moans,groans…

two weeks ago minus a day,

enlightenment happened,
burying all who loved her
in a grave of information,
learning her history,
that most had never known,
bringing more tears,sighs,moans,groans…

two weeks ago today,

the inevitable happened
and she went away
for (her?) good,
leaving everything and everyone
behind and alone with tears,sighs,moans,groans…

a rock and a hard place

poetry

when everything
piled together
becomes too much,
what is there to do
but to lock up one’s feelings,
to lock up one’s thoughts,
to do away with one’s humanity
and become something hard
that can’t feel the pain
of a lost love,
of a lost child,
of a lost friend,
gone for good,
for no good reason.

little shop of horrors

poetry

when i first saw them,
all i could see was him
sitting quietly,
defeated and in shock,
surrounded by those he loved
and who loved him best,
but utterly alone,
lost in his own thoughts
and dark memories.

no one had anything to say,
except for “i love you,”
whispered in a hug
or with a brief touch,
trying not to break
the silence that we all knew
would soon be broken in shouts
of painfrustrationdisbeliefanger,
as the realization washed over us all
staining our minds and memories
to match the blood covering his hands.