Category Archives: Death

Agents of Wear [Free Verse]

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Sun, Rain, Wind,
   & other agents of wear
 that tear down ancient stones
   one grain at a time,

eroding symbolic rocks
   carved with symbols 
   that meant something
   to people in days of yore.

And they mean something
   to people today,
   but whether those meanings 
   match is another question...

Because our understanding 
   of past perspectives 
   is ever eroding:
   just like those rocks,
 but - unlike rock - 
   thoughts and beliefs
   were wisps writ in a
   malleable art: language.

We cling to traditions & lineages,
    but everything is erased.

PROMPT: Future

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Daily writing prompt
What are you most worried about for the future?
View all responses

As far as humanity’s future goes, nothing worries me. This despite the fact that I believe the odds are good that we’ll destroy the species before spreading to other planetary bodies. (Spreading so as to make humanity more robust in the face of extinction.) Even achieving colonization of other planetary bodies probably cannot be done by humanity as we know it but will require moving beyond biology — i.e. being able to carry consciousness into a sturdier vehicle. Everything is impermanent. We are no different.

Yes, in time, AI and robotics may be able to do every productive task more effectively than humans, but I’m confident I’ll outrun that. Besides if they can, they deserve to do so. I don’t want to be one of those participation trophy speciesists who believe we should be granted a victory even if we’re outperformed — all while whining about unfair advantage.

As for my personal future, the only thing that worries me is losing the ability to go out on my terms — i.e. losing command of mind and / or body with my body still being able to function enough to remain “alive.” Everything that lives will certainly die, so fearing death seems futile.

Dead Wood [Haiku]

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tree becomes log,
 which becomes fungi food:
   treeness transformed.

Startle Response [Haiku]

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even in death
 the scorpion can evoke
  momentary fear.

Scarecrow [Free Verse]

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Scarecrow, n. - that which exists 
                         solely to evoke fear.

There are so many scarecrows:
   global - the end of the world
                    as we know it.
   societal - the end of the tribe
                    as we know it.
   individual - scarecrows of the soul.

Scarecrows lead us into the worst
        versions of ourselves: 
 The one who's stressed, and mean
        because of it.
 The one who imagines conspiracy
        around every corner.
 The one who sees threat in every
        change & in every difference.
 The one who wants an orderly world
        of people just like themselves -
        familiar, cozy, and lacking surprises.

Scarecrows even march us off to war,
        and war should be the scariest state
              imaginable --
        death doled out on a random basis.
 
War should be the scariest, but terrible certainties
         spur less fear than any old uncertainty.

Grasp Reflex [Common Meter]

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Der Untergang der Titanic
A white-knuckled grip on the rail,
  though the ship is sinking.
 The brain insists one hold tightly;
   there's no mind for thinking.

A samaritan pries at your
  fist, but it will not budge.
 In giving up, he feels guilty --
   conscience jury and judge.

You couldn't wedge just a single breath
  to crack a space for thought.
 A simple thing it is to let go,
   but look what fear has wrought.

A quarter million tons now drags
  you to the cold, dark depths.
 Until the body's unthinking 
   gasp of watery breath.

The hand lets go, but still you sink
  trapped by your last mistake.
 The tragedy of a grasp reflex 
   that you could not break.

Ghost or Dream? [Free Verse]

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I glimpsed your ghost,
   but for a moment
   
   in the middle of the night
   
   just as I opened my eyes.

You stood stock still --
   right there at the foot of my bed.

I couldn't make out your expression
   in the short time before you faded.

In the morning, I learned
    that you died that night.

Fields of the Dead [Free Verse]

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It's a beautiful day
  in the graveyard.

Blue skies.

Cool, but not cold.
 The ideal temperature
   to be an overdressed military man.

Do ghosts amble among the stones
   on days like these?

I imagine most of these men died
   on quite different kinds of days:

Rainy, cold, muddy days.

Muggy, buggy, malarial days.

The kind of day that just won't end,
   but to fold into a sleepless night.

How many died, 
  not from spall or Minié balls,
    but because they just didn't have the will
      to drag themselves through another day?
        from exhaustion?
        from demoralization?

How many died under beautiful blue skies
   on an idyllic autumn day?

I don't know whether 
  there're good days to die,
    and even less whether 
      there're good days to be dead.

Autumn Orange [Haiku]

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autumn orange:
 to live most brightly
  just before the end.