Poetic Imagination
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Metallica Concert and Thoughts of Dad


How life brings us to the depressed state we are in, amuses even the hardest of skeptics. Here is my parable


Dad and I were never the best of friends, hell we even tried to kill each other a time or two. But I know that he had love for me, how do I know this? Well he let me go to the Metallica concert after I got busted with the pot at school.

Memories leave us when we lest expect it. I got out this old picture of the 1956 chevy, and I remember how I hated to help you in your garage. But I remember when we would drive to Poplar Bluff and you blasting Born on the Bayou full blast. Damn I wish I could talk to you dad, but this entry has to work.

These poems are inspired by my Father Donald Ray Lewis who died in 2001. And to my Mother Sheila Fay (Sutton) Lewis who is dying of cancer as I write this. 04/04/04 


Dedicated to my mother Sheila Lewis


What does life mean
to a person who denies
all understanding of love?

I see her hurt,
her anger,
her anxiety,
yet she still does not cry.

Caresses me
bandages me
soothes me
yet still I am in despair.

My sorrow is my guilt
in knowing I was loved,
and I...
pissed it away as a drunkard his beer.