Goodbye in Falsetto, 2010

qGoodbye in falsetto,
tempo, tempo:
slow melancholy allegro.
too many times the song has played
over and over they muffled fade
when that dash between the dates
the hyphen of our life relate
Love or hate
but don’t forget.
Not you, my friend, the page,
writes the word farewell and waves
like petals in a dust storm rose
the jasmine lay and jasmine grows
does not compute
Nobody knows.

Does not compute
and that’s not fair,
machine breaks down again in err:
saying error saying error
NO SIGNAL blinks amid the grey
the program loop that syncs to say:
failure window door less caves
golden hair bright eyes the maze
its treasure on it’s bed to throw
another of its kind to grow
The living story incomplete
the hands behind it obsolete
the thoughts and constructs line by line
abode their hour, all their time,
and crept below, nothing to say.
That’s how it goes like wind that blows.
Around again like merry go.
Another goes away.

Don’t let me write the word
goodbye, to play pretend:
Want to feel?
just make it real;
chamber click
and chamber spin.
don’t let me write that word again,
the final word goodbye.
don’t let the pen commit sin
chamber click and chamber spin
would you like to play again?
gun to the head
let credit go.
buried in a grave called hope.

The words like worms
crawl out and squirm
rotting apple the bouquet
living funeral flowers
for the dead although they die
All the words once spun go bye.
When that bye comes to my life
when I know that I will die
the page whose bars
blot out the stars
are the lines for me,
in a cage no sympathy
shouting at the wall goodbye.
Just relax,
it echoes back
who are you? I called,
and, who are you? I heard.
the echo of some mocking bird

The brain again that tried to cry
to have to tell the body bye,
again only to see:
The bouquet of words like empathy
That is what the Wizard said,
there would be none for me.
so no more doors wait for amours.
the bleeding brain,
it’s tear to cry:
vague the shapes will sail on bye
and now it’s crystal clear:
wave bye they languid go
past the dead who’ve often said,
this is no place for why.
and the whisper of the wind
is the dead who try to cry.
as those who loved them once walk by
is always with them, in their ear,
who walk by wither cannot hear;
don’t forget me, say the dead.
amazing grace I’ve seen the face,
as blood in dropper blooms
sometimes though
why for? don’t know
say goodbye to an empty room
and then I go.
Outside the cage and merry go
to crawl into my room below.

The scroll is written,
outside time
and by the door we wait in line
Don’t forget me said the dead,
amazing grace I’ve seen the face
and sometimes I say goodbye
to empty rooms
a bye will go
again it echoes back
Say hey, alone
a pen at home
again the pen will write along
and ask me to explain
the goodbye song
about the brain that tried to bleed
the blood is what you see and read
brains bleed mutates into a page
behind the line I sign, the slave.
the love bleeds through a pen.
Chamber spin click END.
The Memories That Die

I sat to take some time to write
I don’t know what to say
A flight of fantasy perhaps, some tale,
of angels and demons
of heaven and hell
The heroes, and villains,
the shallow who dwell
the fake birds flutter by
into the pale translucent sky,

Or write about the real world where,
brief memories we strangers share,
the lives we’ve lived,
the dreams we’ve had
the days that woeful silent pass
there’s a crack in the servant’s looking glass
The dreams of Eden, dreams of home.
It’s not too late to die alone.
no need to bring the pen along
just smile and say Goodbye-
Descend into your bed below,
and silent sleep the eons by.
her eyes forgotten
the sins erased
I look forward to my death
more than any other day.
I’ve already arranged a will
and scripted out a play.
I can’t wait to die.
I’ll finally get to meet my maker
and look deep into their eyes
And present my list of whys.

Why do we love?
Why do we pray?
Where we made to act this way?
to fight forever for our lives
If there is no chance of winning
Why should we even try?

I believe when Death sees me
my life will flash before my eyes
I’ll see my father,
and my mother
smiling at his side
my little brother’s drawing
a cake with candles red which read
Happy Birthday, Brandon
Shouts and breaking bottles
ups and down
a set of eyes, a crying clown
A ballerina with a song
all these things that I have known
gather in one second, flash
and are forever gone.

I stood in the door way, and
sobbing held my father’s hand,
I love you too, he said.
I blinked her eyes and he was dead.
I stood there shivering in the room
where shadows from narrow trees eerie loomed.
crossed the body from the blinds
and streaked the dead in narrow lines
I stood there for a moment
and begged and prayed to God,
Keep my love, lest I go too,
I cannot leave my father who,
saved me from the suicide booth.
He did not close his eyes
I held my father’s arm
until my mother stumbled in
smudged make up and mascara drunk again.

I felt the stiffness of the limb
and hummed my father’s favorite hymn:
He used to say soul shine,
Its better than sunshine,
Its better than moonshine,
Damn sure better than rain.
Hey now people don’t mind,
We all get this way sometime,
Got to let your soul shine,
shine till the break of day

The quivering epithet was set
in stone after a day
I sat in the second row
and heard the preacher pray.
The good Lord Lives,
he gives and takes;
and all of us will meet Destiny
that one appointment we can’t break.
I remember the look when his life left his eyes
his muscles eased off and he sighed.
He might have saw the soul shine,
and surely saw the moonshine,
he often saw the rain.
But he never saw the sun again.

On the elevator to the lobby
I knew what I called God forgot me.
Then I understood the fall
Our only God forgot us all.
I look at people
cats and dogs
I look at them and sigh
as beautiful as they might be
someday they had to die

Some for crimes and some by chance
some for money and romance
but they all walk the way
in a singing row
they listless go
to dim when dies the day.

A thousand tragedy’s a day,
Romeo wasn’t the only man
who had to die that way
For Juliette’s whose auburn hair
stole Romeo’s soul as would a snare
on time the hour came:
Their words of beauty
languid lines
fell to pieces and with time
withered away with the page.

My romance has been a dance
with words and tones and rhyme
I’ve lived more on the page
than I have outside the lines.
All of my skies are ink drop lies

The gravel roads when young were long
Hank William sang we sang along
then later in my life I roamed
the dirt roads in the night alone
when he was almost five years gone

I ride those dirt-roads still
and play
Mad Season, Long Gone Day
We fall with the rain and wash away
to a place where all who go
never return and never know

will they blink out like a light
a lightning bug on a summer night
or leave the confines of the mind
leave the body out of time
into a golden field to find
the faces of the deathless still alive.

I thought of my childhood when
in vain I tried to find
The holy grail, some peace of mind
some genuine happy memory
a joy filled day of mine.
When I was young, when life was fun,
but when I ended up alone,
twenty and on my own
Between the needles in the silence
a voice inside came on:
and in my ears, I heard the song
that once with my father I sang along
The song had faded with the time
and turned into the sound of Mozart
as heard by a mannequin mind.

On that obsolete 8 track
a lilting requiem came back
in the song the old man sang
a simple and elegant melancholy refrain
The tape slowed to a stop.
I looked at the hourglass
prepared another shot.

The face comes back, the day he died,
I sat in my room and cried,
and felt an empty, vacant spot
like a man whom God forgot
The day he passed brought up the past
The same old man, whose loving hands
had saved me from an orphanage
I vowed that day to prove
to my acting family
they didn’t adopt a fool.

The hollow spot
filled with a shot
fake happiness and then
nodded off and often thought
of loves who cared who often shared
their laughter and their fears
who with the leaves of time,
they change
they ran together in the rain
and passed in but a breath
and left
naught but an urn upon the shelf.


Published by

Brandon K. Nobles

Brandon is an author, poet and head writer for Sir Swag on YouTube. With 630k subscribers. Since February 2021 he has written for the most important and popular series, News Without the Bulls%!t and the least popular work on the channel, History Abridged. Brandon joined the channel in late January, since then his work has been featured every month in News and History. His novels and works of fiction have also been well received, and he continues to be a proficient and professional chess player. In his spare time he like to catch up on work.

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