By D. R. DiFrancesco
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In sadness I fade
Left a hollow carapace
Of the man I was.
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In the black of night,
Sorrow rears it’s ugly head,
Leaving me tortured.
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Alone with my thoughts,
Silence as my only friend,
Plotting my demise.
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With head in my hands,
I pondered ending it all,
But what is the point.
By D. R. DiFrancesco
Words seem inadequate at such a time,
More than just a colleague you were a friend,
I can’t imagine the anguish and fear that must have gripped you.
Sadly, all we could do was watch,
Offer faint attempts at support,
And secretly hope that you would recover.
This was not to be,
You aged right before our eyes,
Hair, once salt and pepper turned white and paleness entered your skin,
A shell of the man you used to be.
Your strength however, was inspirational,
Disease did not deter you from your labors,
Your attitude always focused on the positive.
Our lives my friend, were enriched just to have known you,
You left far more to this world than you took,
And this world will be a little emptier without you.
May you find peace and comfort with your maker,
As those that knew you come to terms with your passing,
Farewell dear friend…you will be sorely missed.
** In memory of my colleague Peter who passed away last night from lung cancer.
By D. R. DiFrancesco
The circus arrived many years ago,
Staking claim to hallowed ground that was not their own,
Jugglers, acrobats, circus clowns fragmenting your mind,
Side shows of a freakish nature.
Your thoughts being tossed,
Like so many rainbow colored balls,
Blurred and spinning round and round,
Distorting the line between what’s real and what’s fantasy.
Unsure of who you are,
Whirling dervish’s do cartwheels upsetting your equilibrium,
Stumbling and falling you struggle to regain composure,
Putting on a show for the horde.
You paint on your happy face,
Trying to shut out the worry with jokes, laughter and slight of hand,
Insecurity and despondency boo at you from the crowd,
While secretly you crave the drugs that keep you sane.
Yet the show must go on,
Since life doesn’t stand still for you,
Under your big top of antidepressants,
You cope as best you can.
Each day brings a new performance,
Crowds of onlookers hoping for a fall,
But you won’t give them the satisfaction,
Instead you maintain your balance on the tightrope that is your existence.
Sadness,
Cast like a net over me,
Threatening to pull me under.
Staring out the window as if hypnotized,
Cars pass,
Wind blows through the trees,
Pedestrians carry on with their day,
The sun is shining,
Still I see nothing and feel everything.
This unexplainable innervation,
Shows up like an unexpected visitor,
Uninvited and unwanted,
Unshakable.
Bombarding me with questions and doubts,
Hiding my head in the sand,
Trying to bury the incessant noise,
Unsuccessful, I succumb to the torment,
Tired,
I find little consolation in it’s ephemeral nature,
Its no less painful,
Seems no less eternal,
Leaves me no less hopeless.
With painted smile,
I wander aimlessly through the day,
An observer of my surroundings,
Unable to participate,
Handicapped by sorrow,
Handcuffed to my emotions.
Viscerally I know this will pass,
This realization is all that sustains me,
A lifeline tossed to a drowning man,
Grabbing hold with all my strength,
Waiting to be dragged to shore,
Into the waiting arms of sanity.
Coffee black and strong,
Gripped between cigarette stained fingers,
Making small talk,
How ’bout the weather?
Did ya see the news?
Filler to pass the time.
Old men hunched over cold eggs and bacon,
Swilling bottomless cups of mud,
Chain smoking Lucky’s,
Melancholy in the swirling cloud of second-hand smoke.
Each one has a story,
Exaggerated tales of loves lost,
Fables of misfortune and triumph,
White lies cast as bait to a sympathetic crowd.
“Sweetie”, a patron’s cry,
Barking for a check, menu, or refill,
Significant in this sea of anonymity,
Otherwise silently ignored.
The revolving door,
Room for one more lonely transient,
One more cup of thick black coffee,
Held between nicotine stained fingers,
Another tall tale wrapped in white lies,
Told to another friend,
Scarcely more than a stranger,
Just another forlorn castaway,
Adrift on a sea of tribulation.
By D. R. DiFrancesco
Emotions so fragile,
Pushed to the forefront,
Exposed like raw nerves.
Twisted to fit the mold,
Irrational to the point of ridiculous,
Impossible to live without.
In apathy we stifle them,
Turning cold and hard,
Void of feelings toward the outside world.
In love they are laid bare,
Naked to the beholder,
Shatterable as crystal in the hands of a child.
In anger they are irrational,
Fierce and hateful in their rage,
Destructive as fire when unrestrained.
In joy there is peace,
Freely gifted to those accepting,
Shared willingly without precondition or pretense.
In sadness there is affliction,
Crushing then strengthening our resolve,
Amplifying our vulnerabilities.
Unique in our humanness,
Thriving on more than instinct alone,
Alive in our emotions.
A window,
Like any other window,
Panes separate reality from fiction,
Anonymity, my closest friend.
The sidewalk,
Crowded with actors in this play,
Passers by looking up,
I’m part of the backdrop,
Important to the scenery,
Insignificant to the story,
But at least I’m still on stage.
I watch and listen,
Taking in the hustle and bustle outside,
So cliche’ yet so relevant,
The horns, the taxis,
Rushing to get to God knows where,
All to make another dollar.
People scramble,
Suits and ties, bohemians and homeless,
Sharing the same life on the streets,
Avoiding eye contact,
Avoiding making it personal
Too afraid of feeling empathy for those around them.
The children,
Double-dutch and hopscotch,
Brings back memories of simpler times,
Things weren’t so complicated back then,
Fire hydrants to beat the summer heat,
Careless and carefree were the names of the game.
My hands to glass,
Breath fogging my lens to the world,
Wishing I could be part of the show,
Instead of just a prop,
Destined to remain alone,
A fish in this fishbowl I call home.
A window,
Like any other window,
Panes separate reality from fiction,
Anonymity, my closest friend.
Dom DiFrancesco 