Hello Angel

 

Hello Angel

It is such an unhappy thing

That the world will never again know

Your beautiful smile

 

 

It is an unfathomable tragedy

That you no longer recognize

The best friend that you knew from the time of his birth

Your brother

 

 

I have to believe

That when your suffering is at an end

The light will shine in your eyes again

That you will be able to remember

And to smile

 

On the day that the Heavens finally say to you

Hello Angel

 

Love,

Cie

 

Prompt Used:

Write About

 

Notes:

Re: the top picture

The prompt provides a perfect picture, which may seem incongruous for me to use, given the heavy nature of the poem itself.

My poem's subject seems the sort of person who would have enjoyed the whimsy provided by alphabet soup.

He grew up poor. Foods like alphabet soup tend to be cheap, and kids enjoy them.

He once said that he and his siblings really never considered themselves poor. They just thought that everyone lived like they did.

He ended up becoming extremely wealthy, but I'm quite sure that he would trade it all just to know what was happening once again.

I don't care if people get tired of seeing the following graphic or hearing about this person. I'm going to keep sharing and talking about it, because it is so very necessary to understand how much we need to research the diseases that cause dementia so that we can stop them--reverse them--eradicate them. So that no more bright, good people will have their lives destroyed in this way.

 

 

My friend Dolly believes that the suffering he is enduring has the capacity to teach people who are willing to open their minds and hearts. His compassionate nature was always a lesson for others. Simply by being who he was, he was a teacher. So I can see this being true, although I'm still deeply saddened and angered that one who always tried to be kind ended up suffering so greatly.

Dolly wrote a poem about why she considers Malcolm Young to be a Bodhisattva. It is worth reading.

 

If anyone has some sort of asshat comment about his unfortunate addiction to tobacco, keep that shit to yourself. He successfully rehabilitated from alcohol addiction in 1988 and never again touched a drop of the hard stuff. That's damn commendable.

Cigarettes are a notoriously hard habit to break free from. People who have quit using heroin have said that quitting smoking cigarettes is even harder. Often it is impossible.

Commercial cigarettes have chemicals above and beyond nicotine added to the tobacco. They are made to hook smokers and keep them hooked.

I smoked for 20 years, so I'm not about to get on my high horse. Truth is, I'd still love a smoke. I quit in 2006. I still think about it often and wish I could fire one up. It's hard not to go back. However, I wasn't as addicted as some people become.

Everyone's body is different. Everyone's brain chemistry is different. No one has the right to harshly judge another's weaknesses.

More and Less than Human

 

 

More and Less than Human

 

My eyes have seen you

Perform before ten times a thousand and more

Being onstage got you high

But it also made you panic

 

To perform was always your choice

It was the way that you expressed yourself

Because sometimes it was hard for you to talk

Especially when you needed help

 

You were always willing to help others

But when it came to your own needs, you hit a snag

Perhaps you thought you could sweat it out if you worked hard enough

You thought you could burn your troubles out of your body

 

People like you are more and less than human

In the eyes of your audience

The crowd sees you as both invincible and fatally flawed

You can't win in the arena of public opinion

 

My eyes have seen you

As more lofty than the archangels

As broken as a shattered China cup

As wonderfully and exquisitely anomalous

 

I wish my eyes did not have to see you lose yourself

 

~Cie~

 

 

 

 

 

Lonely Dreamer

Image Source

Lonely Dreamer

Lost in lonely dreams

On pillow of leaves and straw

I envision you

~Rose~

Dedicated to Reg Presley, in honor of his beautiful song "Night of the Long Grass"

Rest in peace, Reg.

12 June 1941 – 4 February 2013

One Soul As Two Minds

Born in two bodies

Yet with a union so close

They were of one mind

A love of this kind

Survives death of the body

Or loss of reason

~Koni~

Koni's Notes:

Angus Young (L) was the first person to notice that something was amiss with Malcolm Young (R) when the bright and hyper-organized Malcolm began to become disorganized and forgetful. Angus covered for his brother, at first helping him remember things that needed to be done, and eventually covering for Malcolm during performances when he would miss chords from songs that he'd written himself.

Before Malcolm lost the ability to remember what he had done during his life or even the ability to recognize the people he was closest to including the brother who seemed to be the other half of his own soul, he told Angus to keep making music. Not long afterwards, it became necessary to place him in a long term care facility. 

It is my belief that a bond like this one survives even death, be it of mind or body. Not everyone is fortunate enough to know the reflection of their soul. Such a reflection is not always romantic; as in this case, the reflection is platonic and/or filial. In any case, such a union is to be treasured. It can never be destroyed.

~Koni~

Cross-Posted to:

Dream About Me, Sweet Brother
(Note: Blog overall is NSFW; certain posts contain explicit gay erotica)

Poetery of the Netherworld

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds

I

In an industry that praises a man for being a blackguard

You refused to behave like a swine

You were tolerant, but not amoral

You chose to cleave to what you deemed important

Refusing to be some sort of cog in the machine

Your voice was an understated baritone

Your style in no way operatic

You preferred to let your axe do the talking

Coming up from a humble background

You led the poor in a quiet revolt

By teaching us to be unashamed of who we are

If anyone had ever referred to you

As a knight riding in on a white horse

You would have laughed

But you were a hero to many of us

We saw you as strong in spite of your diminutive stature

Which is why we were shocked when it was revealed just how fragile you are

There was no antecedent to predict

How swiftly and fearfully you would be felled

II

When I found out the reason

Why the world would never again hear your restless thoughts poured out in music

It made me shiver and sway

My soul was left a jittering mess

Tumbling into a sick, hellish abyss

My heart landed in the basement

And there is no consolation

Nor any chance for denial

My eyes are swollen from crying

Everybody knows that something's wrong

I never was any good at hiding behind a mask

This is the worst, the absolute worst

Because not only are there no expectations for recovery

There's nothing left of what you were in your head

Although the curtain's not yet drawn on vital functions

The obituary for your soul's been read

I thought it might be whiskey that would take you in the end

She was the one mistress you had trouble resisting

Because she temporarily quieted the voices of self-doubt

That screamed behind your placid demeanor

Quiet people have the loudest minds

I loved yours

Love it still

Love it always

Cie and Mo

for

Malcolm

Writing Prompts:

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

The Reverie

Cross-Posted to:
Dream About Me Sweet Brother
(Warning: Blog contains explicit, unapologetic slash/erotic gay fiction)
KHEL 666
Poetry of the Netherworld
Rattling Bones Undead Musician Magazine

Notes:

Morella La Muerte (Mo) is the primary writer on the first poem, The Real Cie is the primary writer on the second.

Mo wanted to use the words from both Wordles but became overwhelmed. She emailed Cie asking for advice. We've been collaborating since five this morning! Three point five hours in, we've finally got it cooked to delicious imperfection.

Delicious imperfection could also describe the subject of the poem, although that sounds kind of lecherous. We actually are referring to his personality. He was flawed, but extremely well-intentioned. He created wonderful things without knowing just how wonderful they were. He was also extremely hard on himself. He never measured up to his own exacting standards.

I doubt we'll ever stop writing about this situation. We certainly will never stop thinking that it's a steaming pile of crap on the part of the Universe. We'd have been sad to have the man killed off, but to destroy his mind on top of it, that's fucking insult to injury. His was a beautiful mind. The world has been robbed of a real treasure.

Ignoring the fact that we have to get a spotlight over here because Angus is taking off his clothes again, could we just for a moment pause and ponder the absolutely solid foundation of this very tasty blues-rock number?

Angus spoke about his admiration for Malcolm's style in a January 2014 article from Guitar World:

"Sometimes I look at Malcolm while he's playing, and I'm completely awestruck by the sheer power of it. He's doing something much more unique than what I do-with that raw, natural sound of his. People like Malcolm, Steve Cropper, Chuck Berry and Keith Richards-they're all doing something better than the rest of us. I can't deny that Eric Clapton's and Eddie Van Halen's lead stuff has influenced a stack of people, but for me it's the rhythm thing that's way more impressive and important to a band.

Malcolm is a big inspiration to me; he keeps me on my feet. Even when I'm tired from running around the stage for two hours, I'll look back at what he's doing and it gives me that boot up the backside I sometimes need."

Absolutely.

What a great loss, not only to the world of music, but to the world as a whole.

Photoshop manip by Cie

Original Eye in the Sky image:

Copyright: zadvinskiy / 123RF Stock Photo

A Tribute to the King of Queen

I love this photo of Freddie Mercury, which Marian shared on tonight's Imaginary Garden With Real Toads prompt.

A Tribute to the King of Queen
 

He made a lot of people happy

He set a lot of spirits free

I never was a killer queen

But he made me feel like it was okay to be me

 

Onstage, he was flashy

Offstage, a quiet soul

Secret struggles and inner demons

Eventually took their toll

 

I dreamed of him after his passing

He gave my cheek a little kiss

He said "thank you, my friend, for thinking of me"

I told him he would always be missed

 

He is missed to this day

And well remembered

 

~Cie~

 

Note:

The dream part is true

Further note for my rude commenter:
This is now the Freddie Mercury AND Malcolm Young blog. Hope it pisses you off.
(Sorry, still steaming about that nonsense.)

For Malcolm Young

For Malcolm Young

A gentle, elf-like man with a razor wit and soft heart

Devoted husband, father, son and brother

Loyal friend

Talented tunesmith

Shrewd businessman

But most of all, decent to the core

To have everything you worked for swiftly wiped from memory

Along with your recognition of those you love the most

A greater tragedy cannot be imagined

I believe you will remember them again when your soul flies free

I believe you will always love them regardless of what your mind allows you to recall

Those who loved your music grieve for you

And for those who love you best

Dear Malcolm, you don't deserve this

You are better than whatever disease has taken your mind away

Nothing can ever remove you from the hearts of those who love you

Especially those who were a part of you

And will be forever

You are a special person

More than a music icon

The world was a better place because of you.

Love from Blooming Psycho and Team Netherworld

Brothers and best friends, forever

AC/DC's rhythm guitarist Malcolm Young was sidelined by fast-moving dementia. At only 61 years old, his wife had to opt to put him in a long-term care facility. His short term memory is completely gone. He can't remember things that happened literally minutes before and doesn't recognize the people he loved the most. 

I wrote a little tribute to the deep bond between Malcolm and his brother Angus. Our hearts go out to Angus. This must be like losing a piece of his soul.

OctPoWriMo 2014: Day 19

Copyright: damedeeso / 123RF Stock Photo

 Gloom

The rain in spain falls mainly on the

Melancholy musings of my mind

On a gray day spattered with

Drizzle from a dawn that never quite comes

To a dusk that never quite went away

Damp penetrates my very bones

Making me feel like a corpse

Rotting in a moldy tomb

Rainbow makes its way as the sun peeks out from behind

Cloudy curtain of gray froth dripping tears down on the

Grass wet with weeping from the gloomy sky

Somber is the mood on a day gray from a dawn that never quite comes

To a dusk that never left in the first place

~Aurora~

 The Words: 

                  Melancholy 
                  Drizzle 
                  Damp 
                  Rainbow 
                  Cloudy 
                  Grass 
                  Somber

 

Aurora's Note:

I'm honestly not entirely sure where this came from. I like the rain, and although I do struggle with depression, I'm not feeling particularly gloomy at the moment, only tired. 

I was listening to Pink Floyd while writing about an event that takes place in a horrible dystopian future, and then I read the Wikipedia entry about Syd Barrett. I don't know if any of this has a thing to do with my morose poem. The words just came, and I just let them flow.

The dog is British, apparently, as is Pink Floyd, so there's the reason why the whimsical mutt appears with an incongruously depressing poem.

V is for Ville-nelle

Ville Valo

There are styles that start with V which have already been invented, one of the most famous of which is the Villanelle. I was thinking of using that one, but then I thought to myself, why not instead pay tribute to one of the most talented modern vocalists and songwriters, Ville Valo of the fabulous Finnish melodic metal band H.I.M.? Thus, lovers of music and verse, I give you the Ville-nelle. First mine, and then a sample from the master.

Ville's song lyrics are characterized by dark and romantic subject matter. There is often a sense of longing or heartbreak, and the setting of the piece tends to allude to the supernatural.

Alone in the Night

Tossed about like driftwood on a stormy sea

I prayed that you would see me through the eyes of love

But there was nothing real within your heart for me

The angels turned their backs and closed off the heavens above

Left broken-hearted and alone in the night

There is no reason left for me to fight

I was just a toy to you, and nothing more

You don't know my heart is broken

Because you don't care at all

You got what you wanted, and you went on your way

You are a dark shadow hanging over my life

I try to escape the memories of you

But I can't find a way to tear you from my heart

Even in death, I'd only dream of you

Although you no more dream of me

You're still the only vision I see

~Tempest Nightingale LeTrope~

**************

 Kiss Of Dawn

Album: Venus Doom

Blinded I am and so are you

By shedding tears

Confusion that separates us two

We hold dear

Just look into my eyes

Kiss our fears good bye

[Chorus:]

I'm reaching for your shadow drowning in

The kiss of dawn

Touching the pain that you left me with

At the kiss of dawn

I'm tired of the games I'm playing with you

When you're not here

Death frees from the fear of dying

it's true, have no fear

Let me look into your eyes

and see death pass us by

[Repeat chorus 2x]

You've read it, now hear it!

A Tribute to Lou Reed

March 2, 1942 – October 27, 2013

I wish more people
Were vicious like Lou
We should all strive to be
As intolerant too

Lou was one of a kind
His tunes may be imitated
But his heart, soul, and mind
Can't be duplicated

Still, it would be nice
If we all could just be
So vicious like Lou
And just let others be

Love,
Tempest

For Jim and Ray

 

Poem for Jim and Ray

 

The assignment from the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads was to write a poem using Doors song titles.

It is my belief that Jim Morrison is probably the greatest rock poet of all time. However, without Ray Manzarek, The Doors would never have come to be. Only he could have woven the amazing tapestry of melody that The Doors are revered for.

Please understand that I'm not some kind of groupie. I have the utmost respect for Jim and Ray. I'm simply having a little fun with these titles in their honor. I hope the guys are out there somewhere in the Universe, and maybe they'll pick up on my vibe and dig it!

Rest in peace, Ray and Jim.

Here is my poem.

Hello, I Love You, pretty baby
Come aboard my Crystal Ship
We'll be Riders on the Storm together
It doesn't matter what the weather

We'll sail away from this unhallowed place
In which the People are Strange
We may hear the songs of sirens as we travel
But When the Music's Over, our love still won't unravel

I need you so bad, you can Love Me Two Times
I'll let you be my Backdoor Man
You know my love is real and not pretend
I'll stay with you until The End

~Wanda~



Cross-posted to:
Poetry of the Netherworld
Undead in the Netherworld

A to Z Blogging Challenge: Y is for ???

 

A to Z Blogging Challenge

Y is for ...

by

Spectra Ghostseeker

 

As far as we can determine, there is no poetry form beginning with Y. So we will tell you about William Butler Yeats, then create a poem in the style of one of his.

 

William Butler Yeats was an Irish poet born June 13, 1865. He died January 28, 1939. He is considered one of the foremost poets of his time.

 

Here is a poem by W.B. Yeats

 

DREAM OF A BLESSED SPIRIT

by: W.B. Yeats

ALL the heavy days are over;
Leave the body's coloured pride
Underneath the grass and clover,
With the feet laid side by side.
 
One with her are mirth and duty;
Bear the gold-embroidered dress,
For she needs not her sad beauty,
To the scented oaken press.
 
Hers the kiss of Mother Mary,
The long hair is on her face;
Still she goes with footsteps wary
Full of earth's old timid grace.
 
With white feet of angels seven
Her white feet go glimmering;
And above the deep of heaven,
Flame on flame, and wing on wing.

 

~W.B. Yeats~

 

And now, here's mine.

 

An Unsung Song

 

A zeal for life he never did find

His sorrow always showed in his eyes

Such troubles he always had in his mind

And nobody heard his soul's cries

 

No-one was there on that fateful night

A shot rang out unheard

His body was found before morning's light

What followed was more than absurd

 

The sad final act of this troubled man

Was exploited for shocking effect

What was done is something I can't understand

A display of callousness and disrespect

 

I heard he was a nice fellow

Who sadly felt little of glee

People have disdain for suicide

I wish we'd open our hearts and see

 

He deserves so much more than the pain he had

He deserves more than his unhappy end

This sorrowful case makes me feel helpless and sad

For a lost soul who needed a friend

 

~Spectra~

 

Per Yngve Ohlin (January 16, 1969 - April 8, 1991) was a Swedish heavy metal musician. An actual photograph of his suicide was made into a bootleg C.D. cover. The fact that people continue to circulate this photograph shows callous disregard, both for this troubled young man and for his surviving family.