Suicide In An Old House Poem by Lamont Palmer

Suicide In An Old House

Rating: 3.4


Death surrounds us with blatant arms.
A sanitation worker dies and no one
cares, but banshee phones striking at midnight,

summoning the equally unknown people
to altars of rancor and resignation.
What do they do but recognize a human

in the grip of edgy, illegible lives,
the ritualistic mouthing of platitudes,
cold and incurable as dry, winter snow?

Bleak living room. Soon the owner won't live
in the area for living, the area's dark aria -
a moment of meth, mirth and minions.

Take that bystreet to oblivion,
to namelessness, to fingers on hardware,
to the antinome of more pure breaths.

By his own hand - a homemade gun, a killing
of the flesh and the direction of the flesh -
alone, in the basement of barren wind

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Tapan M. Saren 01 September 2016

Beautifully written.. And the truth is painted..

2 3 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 01 September 2016

And no one cares! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

2 3 Reply
Pranab K Chakraborty 01 September 2016

The Poet I think the real hunter of the tragedy of human civilization. Time has changed and with rapid course of changing. Last stanza depicts yet time we have got much to rectify ourselves (who think themselves the civilized one, should practice to focus the lens in direction indifferent in need not by class-ics judgment. Thanks for sharing.

2 3 Reply
Barry Middleton 01 September 2016

Very well done and thought provoking. There are many ways to kill oneself in ways that no one will comment even they may know. Drugs are one way. And people always say, 'he's in a better place', the worst platitude that I can imagine.

1 3 Reply
Pamela Sinicrope 01 September 2016

It's nice to read a poem that challenges the reader to think about the words and the flow of the writing. The imagery of a suicide at midnight is dramatic and the imagery is too. A suicide in an old house, a house that has seen too much...people who have become resigned to isolated living to access to weapons for suicide. 'A killing of the flesh and the direction of the flesh- alone.'

1 3 Reply

Loved the pic in words

0 0 Reply
Subhas Chandra Chakra 01 September 2016

Take that bystreet to oblivion, to namelessness, to fingers on hardware, to the antinome of more pure breaths. Beautiful lines. Lovely poem.10 for it.

0 3 Reply
Mizzy ........ 01 September 2016

Bleak, cold, lonely and real.......well written!

1 5 Reply
Unnikrishnan E S 01 September 2016

Hi Mr Palmer, Great poem. Loved reading. Deserves to be selected poem of the day. Congrats and thanks for sharing.10 is all permitted on ph.

1 3 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 01 September 2016

A great awesome poem coming from the bottom of the heart of the poet and very touching. Thanks for sharing it here. Congrats on it's selection as the poem of the Day.

1 3 Reply
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