This thing called Death is but a return
To the soil from whence we came,
The soft clay of this Earth, our components,
Formed into shapes, then given a name

The dust we see floating on sunbeams
Is the soul in disarray,
But when arranged in the proper order
Molds us into who we are today

How we cherish these bodies of clay,
Though we don't get to choose them,
Defective or whole, in sickness and health,
When Death calls, how we fear to lose them

Proud as the peacock we wear our flesh --
Fine particles of matter!
But Death carries us all to the same fate:
We rot, and the particles scatter

Our value diminishes to naught
When we realize this truth:
"From dust we came, to dust we shall return."
(Though you may find my ramblings uncouth)

And those who shed tears at our graveside
Cry for their own destiny,
For well they know that they too shall become
A speck of dust in eternity

Loneliness, I need not speak a word
Yet you're aware of my wretched pain;
All through the night, your vigil you keep,
Hearing my heart call to Love, in vain;
Sensing my distress, you warn the dawn
To tap gently at my window pane

You know me so well -- my heart's a book
You've read many times, with empathy;
Steadfastly you watch, come rain or shine,
You stand at your post most faithfully;
I feel your presence in the darkness
When tears blind my eyes mercilessly

In a moment of false bravado,
I foolishly pushed you from my side
When I believed Love had come to stay --
A silly notion I now deride;
Somehow you knew not to stray too  far,
And when you returned, how we both cried!

Come, Loneliness, let's call it a night,
I'll discard these dreams, then we'll go home;
Once again we'll amble, side by side,
I have you ..... there's no reason to roam;
Tonight I'll raise my glass in a toast:
To you, friend, I dedicate this poem!

Little boy blasting,
out on the streets rapping,
while other children keep clapping.

It’s as beautiful site.

Living amidst destruction
but trying to construct
an art form from love
because adults
in power haven't stepped up.

Little girl marching,
rigidly standing against
environmental destruction
another young leader of the people.

It’s as beautiful site.

But this shouldn't have to be
the fight of their young lives.
Why are they out there
trying to save our lives
when we had so many
generations to stand up
and do what’s right?

One grown *** idiot
is barely living up
to the ideals he believes in,
leaves the struggle
to the children
who seem to have more
heart instead of him.

While he writes celebrating
their success and greatness,
he settles in to accept this mess
because he doesn't really believe
it will get any better than this.

I'm telling you that's it, I quit!
A year on now I weigh a ton,
drinking my way out of this pit.

Hotel meals with a book I sit,
a woman on her own must be fun...
I'm telling you that's it, I quit.

Day after day sleeping a whit,
puff in the lungs and pulse on the run,
drinking my way out of this pit.

Monday drive bawl or afternoon fit,
abusing I yell before the sun,
I'm telling you that's it, I quit.

A ring and a promise, we almost split,
I never home or seeking to stun,
drinking my way out of this pit.

I will admit I learned a bit.
Of colleagues and business I knew none.
I'm telling you that's it, I quit
drinking my way out of this pit.

It did not happen
    it would have happened
        it could have happened
            it should have happened
     but

It did not happen

a large hand from outer space
descended to the Earth's surface
and with a finger and thumb,

grabs me by the belt at the seat
of my pants,

hoisting me straight up like
a fish out of water for
viewing with a great
concern...

He turns my tinyness toward Him
and looks me eye to eye, frowning
in disapproval—

"I dunno, maybe You should
just,
                 toss me away??"

His face then smiled a little,
and with a sigh ,

i was gently lowered
back down...

"Intervention"
©2007-2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

sea waves blue, smooth as a silk sheet are
gently lapped by chilly December air
my skin prickles as the air leaves
goosebumps on my bare arms. i try to
ignore them as the frosty gale bites into my clothless skin.

boats are tethered to shore, no longer
roaming far at sea, they have a home at least
though only temporary, but a safe sanctuary. i wonder
where the people are, perhaps safe and warm and cozy
in the comfort of their fireplaces and families.

i lay down on the barren grass,  now mere stubs that too
***** my skin, they were once lively and green under the shade of a once blooming tree,
now limbless and leafless,
a mere trunk of wood that stands stubbornly on a patch of forgotten ****.

as nighttime falls the boat lights come on, setting patches
of deep blue ablaze, like a fire it spreads and spreads until
you can no longer see the depths of aquamarine,
and maybe just maybe pretend to yourself that they
never even existed.

maybe grass needs to be barren before spring brings shrubs and
trees decapitated before they can bloom again,
maybe matches need to be lit
and places burnt to ashes
before the past can fall away like a brittle husk.

I look up to the cloud-filled sky, blue dotted with specks of white and
perhaps there is no heaven beyond those clouds,
no god near welcoming doors, and
if all prayers are just a shout into the empty void
then perhaps all we can do is
shout.

You ask me,
how can you be happy and sad?
Or Joyful and mad?
All at the same time

It’s pretty easy, I say,
Easy as seeing my parents
In the screen everyday
for my city I fled
and I don't get to hug them

But they're fine, you see
and that makes me happy
and my friends live their lives
as well as I live mine
and their news make me smile
make me joyful and then perhaps mad
for I wish I could be there
and I know that can't happen

So, yeah perhaps I'm mad
cause I have no future in my land
but I'm happy where I am
and the contradiction starts
So, I'll make peace with my mind
let my feelings aside
I'll be thankfull for what I got
and shut everything aside

When I was young life came at such a pace that choices were often ill-considered.
Now I am older the pace is easier but the important choices are all made and they can only be made to change by actions ill-considered.