CEMETERY

Who would want to write a book about a Cemetery-
and who the hell would want to read it?
But Cemetery is more than grass, graves, and grieving-more than dead people surrounded by a wall-but that which completes us! And Cemetery is the final resting place for anything that once lived, from those of majestic marbles,
to a shallow grave to "ground zero".
Cemetery is composed of poems, short stories, and narratives; it does not concern any one Cemetery, but every Cemetery that ever was...
Including the "Cemeteries of our minds".

EPHEMERAL

Why are our children not in their homes?
They went to read their names on the Cemetery Stones.
And why do they go there? It makes no sense to me.
They go because they must,
For children are not what they used to be.
So, in their haste to lose the innocence in them,
They also lose "youth's ephemeral gem."
For today of unkind speeds, and impatient farewells,
Our children are rushing to answer their
"Internal Cemetery bells."
So, if you want to say something to your children
Before they've grown,
Better hurry, before they go read their names
On their Cemetery stones.

I KNOW

Somewhere on a hill in Sweden is a Cemetery,
Where its trees are bent, its skin ripple-rough,
its scent I can see.
And though I am not there with it,
I know it is real, for it is very close to me.
And though I cannot touch its cold stones,
Or pretend I understand what they say.
Still, somehow, I feel their distant meaning,
In all its Swedish array.
And here they lie so frigid,
Covered only by their blankets of ice;
And in the nights when I feel their chill, I ask:
“Why should the dead pay such a price?”
So here in pain, unadorned graves they rest soberly-
All and their kin,
And despite such stoic settings,
I know they once had warmth, and all their emotions within.

Buried Alive

            In Cemeteries throughout the world, there are coffins buried deep in the ground.  Inside these coffins, one may find pillows, sheets, trinkets… and even bodies- usually they are not alive; but scratches found inside these coffins, and the twisted faces of these contorted bodies, provide proof of people who have had a most unfortunate experience.  For there have been tales of those waking up inside coffins.  Soon they discover they are blind, for there is absence of light.  At first, too shocked to scream, they frantically begin feeling their walls of steel, neatly lined with lace.  Next, their fingers trace their body, and memories are brought back of a favorite suit or dress, and for a moment, it helps them from going mad.  Soon, they become aware of a raised letter “R”- one on each side of the coffin, but they are eventually dismissed.
            The fingers now become eyes, and the nervous touching soon becomes fondling of what feels like a cross, pictures, a ring, a watch, and a sealed envelope- as it will always remain.  The hand now slides to a pinned object, a broken edge helps reveal it- the medal!  Thoughts of the precious medal and the images of a person whispering words of affection, as they pinned it on, begins to fill the person.
            Tears now come to the blind eyes.  And as they swell up, the inflexible body begins to sob uncontrollably, as faces of the closest people in the person’s life begin to visit, as each one is caressed by the psyche.
            The hands continue to search, but they soon run in to difficulty. For it is discovered that the once simple feat of getting a hand into pocket is now a task, but getting it out again, has become a formidable feat.  Eventually, the search of the coffin ends, for the hands only have so many places to go- and there are only s many distractions in a coffin.  For even if the hands were asked to perform acts of dexterity and amusing tricks to pass time, they can be kept busy for only so long… and eventually, the inevitable will have to be faced.
            Fortunately there is another part of the body that ca relieve the exhausted; it is the mind, and is now asked to perform like never before.  Quickly it races out of control as it enters into the smallest crevices, and in a flash it visits even the most obscure experiences of the person’s life: births, weddings, shoes, weapons, beatings, orgasms, promises, tragedies, phrases, Christmas bells, parking tickets, punches, strike outs, cats, chads, cods, shapes, speeds, colors practical jokes, touchdowns, dates, kisses, touches, smiles, storms, legs, tastes, smells, fears, recipes, balloons, sheets, Latin… Latin?... Latin! Then a word eerily comes forth- Non Cognoscere (unknowing).  And soon this word becomes clear- and the terror of the moment is now at hand.  For the “unknowing” of why the person is in the is the person’s second greatest fear.
            Now, only if there is a reason, and explanation, or a motive, can there possibly be hope; but with nothing known, one cannot even guess an affect- except the affect of madness.
            Again, they are fully awake, and now they listen ever so closely…but only the non-essential words from the muttering lips are heard.  Slowly, breathing becomes more labored, and the body begins to heave.  And there is a struggle to keep the body relaxed in an attempt to listen even more intently.
            Finally there is sound; only faint at first, but with patience it grows- but is only the sound of “little things” outside the coffin trying to enter it.
            Unfortunately, this tale is not over, for there are two layers of madness- and the second I not far behind.  A cry for help is heard.  And the person, as with any person, even in the most desperate of circumstances, reaches out and attempts to find “salvation”- some call it a crutch, others an escape, some refer to it as God.  But in a coffin, there is little salvation, for there is no other living thing to turn to, no corner bar, no medicine cabinet, no escape lever.  And if God himself does not make a swift appearance, then all may be lost.
            But all is not lost, for the person finally receives help, which comes strangely from the most willing of places- the person’s madness itself, and it comes with all its delusionary powers.  Now, the person’s predicament is reasoned as a hoax, but a remedy for this cruel trick is not yet discovered.
            Suddenly, despite the difficulty in breathing, a renewed vigor in the coffin begins- now everything is reinvestigated.  Even the sealed envelope is thought of again, but how could it ever be read? But as time passes, nothing new is revealed except…
            Only one mystery remains: the raised “Rs” that were on both sides of the coffin- but this time they are not dismissed.  And their meaning becomes the heart of their existence.  And through torturous elimination, the letters “Rs” are meticulously examined in the person’s mind: rebirth, refresh, refund, rebel, relic, revival- No! Red, rage, rampage, rollers, reverse, radish, rattle, rodeo- No! Rivers, redeem, rotten, radical, recount, rapier, resurrection, ripples, rape, rules, raspberry, recline, riddle, razor, -No! No! Rhythm, romance, rosary, ridiculous…
            The, “R” words continue and now begin echo in the coffin: robbery, resist, religion, regret, rope, rapid, -No! It Can’t Be!  And in frustration, the hands now form fists and begin to pound on the sides of the coffin as the long line of “Rs” go on; and together with the “Rs” and the pounding fists, a unique beat begins, and the mouth slowly forms a shape- and a sound is emitted… “R-R-R-Re-Re-Re-Reg-Reg-Rega-Rega-regga-Reggae!!”
            As the person yells and the eyes roll: “Yes, that’s it; then the second word is ‘Rap!’ Rap and Reggae!! Ha! Ha! Ha! Of course, why didn’t I think of it sooner!?” Sweet Rap and Reggae!!
            And meticulously the fingers from both hands now begin feeling each raised “R” –their depth and width, the unique turns- their slightest imperfections.  Then, in an odd fashion, the fingers slowly begin to move, and the body follows.  Soon, the whole body is consumed with Reggae and Rap rhythms, and these rhythms now take over separate parts of the body: The left leg is quick with heavy syncopation, while the right arm sways with and erotic motion; the left arm displays a crude cadence, as the right leg has an easy and consistent rhythm. Now, the head begins to move from side to side in a disturbing manner.  And deep from under the ground, the coffin actually moves, and sounds are heard that were never heard before.  And for the first time, the body and the coffin are united in one joyous moment.
            Then for a few glorious seconds, the person feels relief, even satisfaction- for there has been mush accomplished in the coffin, and it all happened without any assistance from anyone or anything- not even God!
            Weren’t the “Rs” discovered, and most importantly, the intricate meaning behind them?  Yes there was much accomplished.  Wasn’t music produced that one could be proud of, and all this from someone mad?  Then the person takes their right hand over to their left hand and embraces it; then the music ceases… and its now peaceful.
            But the precious moment of peace dies almost as quickly as it is born, for the person now realizes that when the movement and music finally ended, so did all chances of leaving the coffin.  For now there is nothing left to engage the person, nothing left to distract the person- nothing left but to accept the inevitable!
            For even if the voice yelled until it stripped raw, it would not matter. And even if it were heard, it would quickly be dismissed as nothing more than the ground settling.  For it would never be mistaken for a human voice- for this was a cemetery and only the dead are here, and they have no voices.
            Peculiar sensations begin filling the person about past life.  Ironically, things once thought important are hardly thought of now, and they just fade away.  But things that were taken for granted reappear: having a meal with a relative, taking a walk with a child, embracing strangers, a goodbye kiss, sitting quietly with a loved one, drifting in a boat, watching animals play… a lesson in “Latin”
            The person now knows they will never again feel a breeze, smell a rose, hear a splash, see a reflection… taste another day.  It is these things will never again be experienced- never lived again.
            Now, the person’s greatest fear is realized!  Cognoscre! ( To know).  For the fear of knowing, is far greater than the fear of not knowing.  Even despite the great terror of the unknown, it can never equal that of the known.  For no matter how powerful the imagination-it is still just that- imaginary! And the real experiences of life, like the feeling of human emotions, are far more powerful; for the unreal can never match the real- for “real” life, and the knowing it can be lost forever- is unbearable!
            Now, gasping for breath, the person also knows the “littlethings” outside the coffin are getting louder.  The person now enters the last layer of madness, and the body now turns over and faces down.  But when all is lost and there is nowhere else to turn, the person will choose the one thing left- “itself”.  And as it is with all hopelessness and desperation, the worst of all human flaws seep out: self-denial, vanity and greed, and the most powerful of all- the greed for survival.  But ironically, it is these very flaws that will keep the person alive, as long as possible
            Now the person refuses to believe they are not alone, for there must be others that share in their predicament, and possibly they are close by.  And as the broken medal again pierces the body, the person chooses to muffle the scream.  But the person smiles, for they know now that many choices can be made- except the one not to be in the coffin.
            And as the hand attempts to straiten the lace, and the cheeks are awkwardly smooth the pillow, the medal pierces even deeper.  Again the scream is muffled.  For it thought that if others were to learn how difficult it is not to scream, prestige and esteem would surely follow.  But if it didn’t, then they could come and kiss the person’s ass, because this is the adventure of lying face down.  And at least the person would have self respect-  for even in a coffin there is dignity, and even in a cemetery there is image.