A Mix of What I Wrote and What I LikePoetry inspired by the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt (I saw it October 1996 in D.C.):#1 i look down at the grave ghost staring back into my past with unseeing eyes searching for life where it no longer resides i turn away from the light #2 They watched me die like so many children, powerless as I was slowly evaporating away burdens finding peace in heavenly sleep #7 I stood over the bed Watching Waiting His lover by the bed Snoozing Dreaming And he in the bed Tossing Turning In a feverish fit. His eyes opened Fluttering Focusing And he stared up at me Wondering Questioning As I lifted him to his feet. And together we walked Disappearing Dissolving I'm taking him home. Vision A Light Brighter than a thousand suns Harsh at first Then warming, loving, comforting, embracing Everything in sight. And from the light they came Old friends, lost family, loves no longer with us Everyone joyful and celebrating their return But then the light faded And everyone with it. I stood once more On the field of death Alone. 
Stitching Stitching Your life together After it has fallen apart She doesn't have an easy job But she gives it a try, just the same Thinking maybe, just maybe Those leftover pieces of life Will keep someone From doing Stitching But They say gays get AIDS But straights get AIDS, too. They say whites get AIDS But blacks get AIDS, too. They say the poor get AIDS But the rich get AIDS, too. They say men get AIDS But women get AIDS, too. They say the young get AIDS But the old get AIDS, too. You say they can get AIDS But you can get AIDS, too. Lonely I live with a corpse Its heart beats It breathes But he has left me. I kneel sometimes By the bed And pray With silent tears And false promises That he will return. But my angel has sprouted wings And flown Leaving me With empty hope And bittersweet happiness Knowing he has gone away To a place Were suffering has no power. So I sit here Sipping coffee And nibbling at a slice of damnation As I consider Sending the corpse away Or giving it some company. I wouldn't want it to get lonely.
Other poetry:The Little Boy and the Old ManSaid the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon." Said the little old man, "I do that too." The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants." "I do that too," laughed the little old man. Said the little boy, "I often cry." The old man nodded, "So do I." "But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems Grown-ups don't pay attention to me." And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand. "I know what you mean," said the little old man. -Shel Silverstein Inspiration or Vocation Which do I choose? I would choose inspiration, But, it doesn't pay the bills And don't I need food, clothing, shelter To live to see my next inspiration? I could choose vocation, But then will my inspiration Utter a sign and retire To some dark corner of my mind, Leaving an empty life? And so I sit With a puzzled look Doing nothing. In Hiding They are here beneath Beneath the shady protection of the forest. They glimpse one another here and there Here and there between the trunks of the trees. They flee from the others The others beneath the trees. They do not want them to see See who they really are. They look out Out past the borders of the forest. They see the beauty and peace Beauty and peace in the fields beyond. They yearn to go Go into the fields. But they are afraid Afraid of the revealing sunshine. They are afraid Afraid of the open air. They are afraid Afraid because the others will see. So they stay here beneath Beneath the shady protection of the forest. -Jason C.
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