We miss you, Ryan.

"War"

by Ryan Seramur

half mad and sober

the morning light is

annoying

and the wounded soldiers

curse like sailors

(in a clackity native tongue)

as I toss them away

to their empty garbage grave

bukowski is a bad influence

because I've decided

to kill a lot more of them

challenging me from the trenches of their

ice-box battleship

I attack with vigor

the day has just

begun

Untitled, by Ryan Seramur

"4/4/06"

by Ryan Seramur

Up in the night from rest,

the deep placid facade's caress,

upon which my sorrows emerge,

deaf to reason, impossible to purge

Within the moonlight whisps

all my sad thoughts and blunders,

the burden of every mistake and thunder,

oh the rain which never dries

Damn that awful name,

two years now in refrain,

a weakness so overtried,

leave me be, allow some pride

And in the catacombs of my worry,

I cannot feel joy's meek breast,

so I sit in this stark impatience,

and pray my skin to shed anew.

"Untitled"

by Ryan Seramur

Bartender, drug me up rough

and tumble, lend your ear

to my mouth, do you have

anything to say?

Listen then:

In drink I am reborn,

but in death I am permanent,

so drink away young rough

and tumbles, old

gallant knights of plastic armor,

for death has not come yet

One of Ryan's Favorite Poems

"the crunch" by Charles Bukowski too much too little too fat too thin or nobody. laughter or tears haters lovers strangers with faces like the backs of thumb tacks armies running through streets of blood waving winebottles bayoneting and fucking virgins. an old guy in a cheap room with a photograph of M. Monroe. there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock people so tired mutilated either by love or no love. people just are not good to each other one on one. the rich are not good to the rich the poor are not good to the poor. we are afraid. our educational system tells us that we can all be big-ass winners it hasn't told us about the gutters or the suicides. or the terror of one person aching in one place alone untouched unspoken to watering a plant. people are not good to each other. people are not good to each other. people are not good to each other. I suppose they never will be. I don't ask them to be. but sometimes I think about it. the beads will swing the clouds will cloud and the killer will behead the child like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone. too much too little too fat too thin or nobody more haters than lovers. people are not good to each other. perhaps if they were our deaths would not be so sad. meanwhile I look at young girls stems flowers of chance. there must be a way. surely there must be a way that we have not yet though of. who put this brain inside of me? it cries it demands it says that there is a chance. it will not say "no."

"Dave and I"

by Ryan Seramur

Dave and I are just drinking and talking

working at our beers

it is getting late

I would rather Dave would leave

but I'm too nice to say

"get outta here asshole"

so we go on

and Dave prattles away

sometimes making me laugh

or making me think

the rest of the house is asleep

they have the morning to worry about

but

then again

so do we

I suppose we'll pay for this then

but they'll never know how nice

how splendid it was

Dave and I

just drinking and talking

"To a Ghost or a Box of Ashes"

by Ryan Seramur

When you ask questions to dead men

You don't get answers

Or to a box of ashes by a fireplace:

Is that you there?

What are you?

Where are you?

I shudder to think you can see me

That you can know all my secrets

But sometimes I wish you could be here

When I need you

When I am truly sad

Or for those proud moments

Whenever they come

Most of the time I'd rather

You simply be that box

Those ashes

Like praying to an abandoned god

Only in times of despair

The thought of you being

Both somewhere else

Perhaps somewhere better

And here at the same time

I only entertain in mourning

When I die

I merely want to cease existing

For it all to just end

Total blackness

A profound nothingness

None living can conceive

How peaceful that would be

But I still need you

And a little part of me

I don't let anybody see

Peeks over my shoulder

For your ghost

"New Skin"

by Ryan Seramur

I’ve yet to find

A treasure chest

Or a face I desire

Out of this madness

But I carry on

Some days worse than others

A night of sleep

A burst of color

Then sunlight

Black and white

Days cold gray

Mornings so sober

I’ve yet to learn

To love this skin

To breathe in easy

To rest within

I remember too much sadness

But

I’m going to make

A life for myself

A nice little life

Out of this insecurity

And the ebb & flow

Of this madness

I will defy, defy, defy

But I won’t ever again

Try

Ryan's Writing

A big thank you to Ryan's good friend, Stephan Lane, for spending so much time typing out many of Ryan's handwritten poems. I know that had to be a very emotional journey.

I'll start adding another of Ryan's poems every couple of days, and then finally put up a PDF (another of Stephan's efforts) of the compilation of Ryan's work.

Feel free to send photos or anything else you'd like posted, etc.

You can send them to julieperrypriceATgmailDOTcom. and I'll put them up as fast as I can.

"Humility"

by Ryan Seramur

god

if he or she

or it

exists

is quiet

a few months ago

i knelt beside my bed

and for the first time

in a very long time

began to pray

despite years of

arrogance

disbelief

confusion

and doubt

i knelt there

at the bottom of the lowest of my worst

Alone.

Desperate.

my pride a dead horse

beaten

and beaten

and beaten

so I folded both hands

and eyes shut

head down

knees to the ground

mumbled a few brief breaths

to who or what I am still unsure

and

though I may be thought a fool

you know what?

it felt good