RIP Palin Perez Jackson
On the mournful eve
of Thanksgiving '09
we all can find
reasons to give thanks
We count our blessings
We mourn our loss
We carry on yet
I find myself
a poet
with no words to speak
with impetus enough to write
my pen hand halts
Only tears stain the page
like the tears that stained
his face; the tattoos that
told of a troubled soul,
one who had witnessed true
tragedy, strife and torment.
I had wished and prayed
that he'd find his peace,
that one day he'd be free.
I only hope now that he is.
I walk the streets with
my chosen brothers, we
wander through Worcester,
wondering how to properly
send him off; as the smoke
signals reached the Heavens
As sirens blare and cops
order donuts, as the city
carries on, teeming with life
We exhale into the skyline
our shock, our dismay
as visible as the neon lights
of dive bars,
our pain as palpable as a
cold November wind.
We remember him as a hero,
a friend, a counsel.
A sagacious spirit who changed
our lives as well as those
of countless others; We remember
our chosen brother who has
fallen from this world and
into the next and all we want
is mayhem. We want fire and
destruction, our sadness manifests
as rage, but with Jun looking
down on us we burn only our
blunts, our heartbreak needing
outlet, we continue to wander.
Whatever may lie
on the other side of mortality
Whatever plane he's on now
His sagacious spirit surely
carries on like the images
he created, images that will
undoubtedly carry his memory
on for generations to come.
We had planned to meet
in Brooklyn this month, a
few hundred miles away.
Now the distance is much
greater, time is much longer
We are apart more now
than ever before, I can no
longer instant message him
I cannot call or email, I
cannot really say goodbye.
There are some actions I can
take. There are some things I
can do. So this Thanksgiving,
this tearful holiday of '09,
I give thanks for having known
him, I hold his memory in my
heart,
of Thanksgiving '09
we all can find
reasons to give thanks
We count our blessings
We mourn our loss
We carry on yet
I find myself
a poet
with no words to speak
with impetus enough to write
my pen hand halts
Only tears stain the page
like the tears that stained
his face; the tattoos that
told of a troubled soul,
one who had witnessed true
tragedy, strife and torment.
I had wished and prayed
that he'd find his peace,
that one day he'd be free.
I only hope now that he is.
I walk the streets with
my chosen brothers, we
wander through Worcester,
wondering how to properly
send him off; as the smoke
signals reached the Heavens
As sirens blare and cops
order donuts, as the city
carries on, teeming with life
We exhale into the skyline
our shock, our dismay
as visible as the neon lights
of dive bars,
our pain as palpable as a
cold November wind.
We remember him as a hero,
a friend, a counsel.
A sagacious spirit who changed
our lives as well as those
of countless others; We remember
our chosen brother who has
fallen from this world and
into the next and all we want
is mayhem. We want fire and
destruction, our sadness manifests
as rage, but with Jun looking
down on us we burn only our
blunts, our heartbreak needing
outlet, we continue to wander.
Whatever may lie
on the other side of mortality
Whatever plane he's on now
His sagacious spirit surely
carries on like the images
he created, images that will
undoubtedly carry his memory
on for generations to come.
We had planned to meet
in Brooklyn this month, a
few hundred miles away.
Now the distance is much
greater, time is much longer
We are apart more now
than ever before, I can no
longer instant message him
I cannot call or email, I
cannot really say goodbye.
There are some actions I can
take. There are some things I
can do. So this Thanksgiving,
this tearful holiday of '09,
I give thanks for having known
him, I hold his memory in my
heart,