An Urgent Story of the Story

Drained memoir

Pixalated, a picture persists

Narrating neverlandish tales

I watch as memory fails

The pixalated picture resists

I watch as it impales,

Who I was

Who I am

I, who is

I, who am

Who am I?

A fading picture, a

Serenading creature

In the cover of night

Serenading alive

Pixalated, a picture persists

Someone someone-ing more

as never someoned before


Write a story!

Make it last!

A nuclear blast!

Do what you must!

A pinch of lust!

Perhaps some blood!

Or better, a flood!

Do what you must!

The story must last!

And when they ask,

Who they are

Tell the story

Plunge them in fiction

Use my careful diction

In stories we live

In stories we cease

Please! Oh Please!


This is the only way to survive


Add yours →

  1. speechless….heart pounding no words in awe of you….

  2. OMG!
    Only our now is but a chunk torn out of the web of continuum and words almost always betray us.
    Isn’t silence with touch and action, not poetry, nor visual art the only way to immortality?-if there is such a thing-it exists in the realm of human life. Can a story really serve?
    Among equestrians we have a saying-“Have you hugged your horse today?” and dancers wish each other “merde”. Life is real. so is love and mindfulness and stories do touch us. Thanks for having the courage to use words to put your story in poetry.

    Angel in the dust

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The story doesn't ever end....

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