FEASTS OF GRIEF

Wretched, a remnant of before
you left me
What do I care for your name?
Why shout it?
Should I bother with tears?
Or as many as you said my name
to equal the number
Why should I give
a damn now about yours?
You were dying
when you were lying
Now you are dead.

I am here living,
or at the very least standing –
breathing low before
your marred headstone,
watching nature at her best;
her nocturnal creatures draw close
towards your grave.

In my mind they feast
but sour memories and grief
make them unmentionable fiends –
that wanted to make a macabre feast
of your bloated body,
and I let them – brittle bones now
rattle in the dust,
still all I can see is anger.
I hate you right now.
You are dead
where all the dead are at long last
at peace.
Laughing to myself
beneath my tears,
my eyes fill with images
of your drunk days
and slurred nights,
‘Did you ever love me?’
I wondered ceaselessly.
Does it matter now?

Poets say, ‘the dead have no cares
for anything, ‘they are, after all, dead.

Unresolved issues?
As many as throwaway tissues
and I am spent.
Damned right there are issues!
There will always be a legacy
bequeathed me;
uncertainty here for me in the living,
a breathing reminder
that you once lived in this world,
and while you lived I died, faded,
a mere shadow, bent, broken –
a servant in waiting
awaiting your orders,
waiting for love or a sign
not found inside glass,
poured from a heart
instead.
I brought you
what you craved
I thought I brought you happiness
and filled the hole as black as my life today.
All I brought was your next drink.

A Grim Fairy Tale

Because animals deserve Happy Endings too! I ask you (parent(s), adults -those of whom are still young at heart) to take a moment and share this story with your family and friends.

by Anita M Kulkarni Nabonne

Gather round to hear a gruesome horror story unfolding right before our eyes. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I will begin.

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Planet earth came to be as a small dot in this vast universe, and over billions of years it evolved; designing and redesigning, touching up and choreographing until it became a genius creation of a master crafter called Nature. She provided so many diverse stages and platforms rich enough to sustain multitudinous species. The strengths and weaknesses of the players and their audience determined the success of each individual production – the strongest survived and the weaker had to adapt or die.

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Each story’s stage was a self-sustainable ecosystem, linked to the others in some way, and one broken link in the chain is all it would take… and maybe huge, grim, species of monsters.

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These monsters are diverse: invertebrates with lifeless black eyes…

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Team Planet Earth

Team Planet Earth

If I spoke my mind fully about this so-called woman, Kendall Jones…I would probably be arrested. So instead I will further make note of such a fiend like her with others and hope they share/reblog this coward with others.

With so much depressing news about the state of the planet’s health hitting our social feeds, or shown on the TV, the easy option can sometimes be to look away and ignore the problem. There is an element of helplessness to it all–this thing is just too big to stop. What changes can I really make in the grand scheme of things? If, like me, you’ve been brought up on a western life of convenience and consumerism, it can be difficult to change your mindset, to even want to acknowledge there’s anything drastically wrong with the world. The cold truth is we are in the midst of the sixth great mass extinction event on earth, and the primary driver for this is man…that’s right, you, me, your great-uncle Ralph in Connecticut. All of us.

Starting today, the Dodo Express will aim to bring you a weekly round-up of good news…

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