Two Figures in a Winter Landscape

Two figures in a winter landscape

This year two tributary rivers
The Hillsborough and the North Rivers

Offered up one suicide a piece
To the salt of Charlottetown harbour

Now almost erased by ice and snow
I see two dark shapes together move

Two figures in a winter landscape
I wonder whether it is safe out there

Will the ice support their combined weight
Will they suddenly be swallowed

By the cold hungry waters with their
Appetite for human suffering

I watched them recede from a distance
They disappeared behind the lighthouse

Vanished in each other’s company
What became of them we cannot say

AGG20131231

To read Songs about Sex, Death & Cicadas by Andrew Grimes Griffin, just click on the link. To download a pdf, right click on the link and select “Save link as…”

Scorpions

I'm Lonely_20131015

Scorpions
for M.E.

He remembers
the desert alive,
stinging sands, insidious force;
they told him scorpions ride the wind.
He sees a ring of fire and self-
inflicted wounds, barbed poison,
as each grain passes his lips
making it harder
and harder to
breathe
but
we found him, surrounded
by scrawled forget-me-nots.
(p.s. special mention to…)
We hoped he’d heal himself.
But still alone he dreams
of flying with his blue scorpions
in yellow clouds over the desert,
while we shield our dry eyes
with our earthbound hands
from this sun, that poison, his sand.

AGG20131103 (redux of 1986 original)

Depth Charge: I have reworked a poem from 1986 that came about after a friend’s failed suicide attempt.

 

My Deathday— Choose Your Universe Wisely by Clank

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here

My Deathday — This Poem Is a Knife by Lynn Henry, Part II — The Poem

This-poem-is-a-knife-1- by Lynn Henry This-poem-is-a-knife-2 This-poem-is-a-knife-3

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here

My Deathday — This Poem Is a Knife by Lynn Henry, Part I — The Knife

The-Knife-and-Deathday-Book

One Saturday, completely out of the blue, the following text message appeared:

Lynn's Text Message

Hello Andrew. Am in Mendoza city, Argentina taking in the annual wine festival parade (vendemia) and thinking of you…Parade began w huge dancing grim reapers, then many tangoing queens, then floats full of men barbecuing meat on great spits. And all sorts of other folkloric stuff (incl argentine bagpipes). See you soon. Sat, 01/02/2013 11:26

Lynn was in Argentina? Who knew? Given the scene she described: grim reapers, dancing queens and men spitting-roasting stuff, I could see why she thought of me, but what was she doing there?

As I found out on my deathday, one of the things she was doing was buying a knife.

Luján de Cuyo-20130303-000

The selection of blades for sale in Argentina.

Luján de Cuyo-20130303-00078

Old Argentinian dudes inspecting the knives.

And having it engraved:

The Argentinian Knife Engraver

The Argentinian Knife Engraver

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here

My Deathday— My Natal Day by John Mackenzie

John Mackenzie spins a noir tale of being in the wrong place at the wrong time one too many times for Andrew Grimes Griffin’s own good.

Tp read the complete text, click here, right click and “Save Link as…” to download a copy:  My Natal Day, or How a Big Bald Guy Gave Birth to this Death-Winged Sparrow by John Mackenzie

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here

My Deathday— Vivian’s Portrait of My Deadly Demon

Vivan's-Portrait-of-My-Deadly-Demon-Detail

Detail of Vivian Hodgson’s Portrait of My Personal Demon.

In the end it is our own personal demons that do us in; Vivian has provided me with a portrait of mine.

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here

My Deathday— The Owls Get Mad by Katy L. Breier

My-Deathday--The-Owls-Get-Mad

Ah Poor Andrew didn’t realize that when you mess with Harry Potter…The owls get mad!

Katy predicts that my incessant trashing of Harry Potter will incite the owls.

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here

My Deathday— A Wit’s End by Sue Hughson

A-Wit's-End-by-Sue-Hughson

A Wit’s End
By Sue Hughson

I slipped, and fell,
On a pile-o-shit
What an end
For such a with

I tumbled down
Then cracked my head
Once alive,
Alas, now dead

Immortality,
To some sublime,
But belief in same
’Tis mortal crime

So as my cranium
Parses blood
Remember I was
One fine stud

This year I decided to do something different for my birthday; I decided to celebrate my death. The end result was an incredible evening of poetry, song, storytelling, drawing, conceptual art, chocolate cake, laughter and a whole lot of love. Over the next several weeks I will be posting the results.

To see all the posts to-date, click here

To go to the My Deathday main page click here