[POEM] Absence

To feel such relief
and solace in the absence
of an empty life
exhale the pent up anger
inhale sweet contentedness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’s gone. Life can continue happier knowing there is a void where he used to be.

[DISCUSS] Ding Dong, Fred Phelps is Dying… and what not to do about it

If you haven’t heard the news yet, Fred Phelps, the founder of the Westboro Baptist Church, or the founding church of funeral-picketing and ‘God Hates Fags’ posters, is apparently on his death bed. This according to his estranged son, Nate Phelps, who left his family and their church to be an LGBT activist in Canada.

Now, if you remember the poem I wrote mentioning Mr. Phelps a long while back, you’d probably expect me to have the same reaction as most people who hear this news; first, just like the title of this post, singing and dancing to the fact that this man is finally going away forever; second, the question, “Where can I sign up to picket his funeral?” At least, these are the two responses that are propagating across the internet as I type.

Ode to Simple Things

I want to smoke my cigarette with Johnny Depp

on the patio of an Irish café, discussing how his children are doing,

if I would like another beer,

what he will do with his newest role in my newest movie,

and other simple little things.

 

I want to be confident in knowing

there is absolutely no one watching me change

in the locker room

and laughing into their shirts

so I can’t hear.

 

I want to, one day, find that red-tailed hawk,

lying dead of old age

in the middle of the waving timothy

and alfalfa,

and have his body stuffed and mouted

on a pedestal,

to collect dust on the shelf in my closet.

 

I want Fred Phelps to drop dead.  Preferably within the week.

 

I want a crisp, warm set of sheets,

fresh from the dryer,

and the time to fold

and reflect

on why I had to wash them in the first place.

 

I want him to ask me what I want, just so I can say,

I want to pick you up from your knees and ask you if you really thought I’d ever say no.

I want to get happily frustrated at our family, because we both know

they are just keeping us from going back to the hotel.

I want to hold your hand every day of my life, even when you don’t know it’s me anymore.

I don’t want much, and I don’t want it right now.

I just want to know that it’s coming.

I want you.