In Forgotten Memoriam
A duo to make you remember
Dark Room - Edward Swafford
We meet at midnight
the damned dwell here
in a dissonant watchtower
numbered faces of no nirvana
numbering a dozen, or more
many many many many more
wearing vantablack wings
our pitch pathos uncouples
are we manifold?
lulled and lonely?
accomplices are fait accompli
yet fate is just one
overused underwritten word
lest we inscribe four foretold
lie letters unto our backs
taking turns, with weakened
hands passing preordained
pencils from shadow
to charlatan
We meet at midnight
the eternal hour, our hour
rites of piquant passages
recited by espoused voices
kneading needs and
trusting truths however harsh
a right to live, a right to love
haberdashers sew our scars
some make-believe panacea
penance is pale so we
christen new faces with a
kybosh kiss
this room winnowed us all
we never chose the fall
our canonized corner
dust to evergreening dust
palliative fingers sprinkle ash
death isn’t the end
not for us
We meet at midnight
noumenon night guiding
nocturnal gifting, nocturne
gifts curse us all
karmic grace befell our blood
phenomenological praise
molding ourselves to motion
perpetual emotion, there’s no
bliss in this soma space
forewarned within foursquare
walls of forfend shame
we embody it
we embolden it
seeing is believing, so why
are we blind to vicinal vision?
odyssey paths speak
yet we cup nearby ears
mouthing five watershed words
”let us perish in peace.”
HAIKU:
Condemned angels
Cherubic imitation
Evolution fear
© Edward Swafford 2025 - Originally published in Lit Up, and revamped with a rather dramatic voice readingHIV is still here. May we remember those at the coalface, during the initial outbreak in the 80s, who lost their battle with this insidious virus.
It’s the End of the World - H. R. Sinclair
Think of the end of the world.
Does it conjure fear in you?
Do you think of a natural disaster,
a biblical conclusion,
a cosmic swallowing,
an instantaneous
BIG BANG
or a gradual decline?
Does the world end
the same day
for everyone?
If you knew
your final day
the day of doomsday
would you mark it
on your calendar?
With a big red
!EXCLAMATION MARK!
or a big yellow
smiley face?
Will our grand demise
be so grandiose after all?
A dissolution of the
collective unconscious
or a minuscule dot
at the end of our
even smaller line.
Though mighty that dot
might look
from close up.
Are you there?
When you think of
the end of the world.
Would you even care?
Do you play a part
or take the role
of an innocent bystander?
Is it the end of the world
or the end of your world?
Have you already determined,
judged the past
and condemned the future?
Has your day already come?
Arriving all too soon
from the mouth
of the devourer.
Life’s dictation delivering
the blackening mist
carrying no future
no hope nor even
space for despair
If When I spiral
through and out
of my world
will you follow suit
and fall down the hole,
stand by my side
and pick me back up,
or just follow on
from where I left off?
Let’s end in isolation
together.
Do you heed when
hearing of prophecies,
those who shout
the day has come.
Like Death with his scythe
a sweeping swing
across all life.
It’s an odd thing…
to think of
the end of the world.
Seemingly unknowable
yet a feeling
so viscerally known
in the depths of our
fearful well.
Oh well…
It’s only the end of the red world.
HAIKU:
Right the blinded wrongs
Victimhood displacing truth
Collective demise
© H. R. Sinclair 2025 Death doesn’t discriminate. Women are the forgotten victims of this global scourge.
This piece is equally important as it is powerful. Be a voice for the voiceless, whenever you can. Thank you, Edward, for guiding the way.
This is one of the most emotional poems I’ve penned, big ups to Hazza for co-authoring this post with me. His vantage POV on the silent issue of HIV in the heterosexual community is invaluable.