Nice to see you.




I grew up rural working class. Much of my work is raw and from experience.
Many stories and poems published worldwide.

2014 Pushcart Prize nominee. (more)


''They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes,
Within a dream.''


Contact: anthonyjlangford2@yahoo.com.au

A very serious Poem



Death Rights

may 2010


It's get easier and easier with each breath. Each numbered breath.
I thought it would be hard.
I always dreaded it.
Always.
For Years
What a Fool.
What a waste.
But now I'm aware of each breath.
Languid. Supple. Not particularly enjoyable.
Just a breath.
But I'm conscious of it.
This is what it's come to.
I thought I had more time,
but it's snuck up on me
look. Here it is.
There was time for more
wasn't there?
If only there was some warning...
Then I could have planned
could have done some of those final things
whatever they are
I didn't even have time to draw up a list
I'm sure there's many final things
but right now,
I can't think of any.
The last breaths.
You've got to be joking
right?
I mean... I've done many good things
surely I deserve more.
I know we all have to go
and all that crap
but....
doesn't seem fair..
guess it never does.
But this is me,
not a person in the paper
or on the news
or in a movie.
Where are you God?
You don't exist!
If you do, you must be some asshole.
So many people, better than me
have sacrificed more
and you took them anyway
haven't you had enough?
Sssh now and concentrate
this is harder than I thought.
I guess soon I won't have any thoughts
there will only be this
concentrating on my breaths
then I'll be out of it
I think I already am
I can't communicate with those around me
to them
I'm already faded
in some other place that is more real than this
it's my place
only I can understand it
I guess I'll die here
I can cope with that
can't I?
I'm as warm and safe as I'll ever be
anywhere
and it's not external
it's all here
and that's all we need
that's all I need.
Good
because I'm going anyway
I can feel it
now
oh yes
it is now
here
with me
taking
me
not so
bad
it's
not goodbye
is it
it's not hello
it's
this
just this
but
I
go
there
...
..
.

or

or nothing



Coming Soon
For the Month of June
A Seriously Silly Series

Feral Street
Kind of like the O.C. but totally opposite.
Pray you don't end up there... without a mullet.


o m g!
Not for the easily offended.

Until Then,

9 comments:

  1. Each breath we draw is a breath closer to our last & this unfortunately is an unavoidable fact. This was a deeply emotional poem for me to read for many reasons & it is also a topic I don't allow to settle in thinking centres for too long because of the memories it stirs.
    Very well written Anthony!

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  2. Reminded me of when we were waiting on the side of my grandmother's death bed. We WERE counting breaths because that was the only way to tell she was still alive, until, there was one last one, and no more....

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  3. Found you through Rockn' Robin's blog. This is rousing and esoteric. Loved it.

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  4. Thanks for coming by again Katherine..i agree, it is disturbing..

    Hi Cheeseboy - cheers for swinging by - appreciate your comments my friend...hope to see you again..

    Sorry to hear about your grandmother Amyee.. it is a hard thing.. and i lost a family friend recently.. i was wondering one night what it must feel like.. not pleasant.. something we dont want to dwell on too often and nor should we, but worth thinking of, especially for those we know and lose...

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  5. Ideally, we would be ready for the moment. Realistically, that's rarely the case.
    This is a powerful, REAL poem, Anthony.
    Have a good weekend.
    Robyn

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  6. Dear Anthony

    Once again, immediate and to the point, you set the scene. Clearly, there is no confusion.

    Each line I read, drew me closer and closer to the dying soul. I was mesmerised to the very last word. Death was imminent.

    Yet, with each line I read, I had hoped, somehow that life would be restored, and that the subject would be returned back to the land of the living. It was a futile hope. We all know our destiny.

    "I thought I had more time, but it snuck up on me." The truth in these words sting like an unexpected paper cut. Ouch! An element of surprise most of us at one time or will experience.

    How easy it is to be caught up in the rush of living life, of not making time to smell the roses, only to be confronted with death, and to wish in that moment; "that there was time for more."

    This poem is totally breath taking. It will linger in my thoughts for hours!

    Brilliantly written Anthony!

    G~

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  7. Thanks Sara
    Ms Ozzi, you humble me with your comments.. Thank you so much.. you really make it all worthwhile..

    ..and so here we are, smelling the roses together...

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  8. Very disturbing but truthful poem - death is a difficult subject for many and hard to think about.

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