Shutdown

Shutdown

I don’t shut my door all the way

In turn I hope the morning will bring

A better fight and a turn of slights

Curse the dark with rays that ring

I don’t shut my mouth by the way

And I’d rather take that to my grave

So my words flow straight and slow

Into the ears of a dumb escape

I don’t shut down at night the same

While attempting to dream up a sky

Where the sun gives into night

Well within my defied twilight

Daniel Jaffke

9/18/1983 - 1/31/2014

The Trash Can

 The Trash Can,

Charles Bukowski

this is great, I just wrote two

poems I didn’t like.

there is a trash can on this

computer.

I just moved the poems

over

and dropped them into

the trash can.

they’re gone forever, no

paper, no sound, no

fury, no placenta

and then

just a clean screen

awaits you.

it’s always better

to reject yourself before

the editors do.

especially on a rainy

night like this with

bad music on the radio.

and now—

I know what you’re

thinking:

maybe he should have

trashed this

misbegotten one

also.

ha, ha, ha,

ha.

Sick Child Vigil

Sick Child Vigil

On the three days following Daniel's death I sat vigil like I have done so

many times with sick children.

People couldn't understand why I would not sleep.

All I knew was that I could not sleep while my baby was in peril.

I know he was already gone but that didn't seem to matter to my mother's instincts.

Daniel Padrick Jaffke

September 18, 1983 - January 31, 2014

Ode To A Hobo

Ode To A Hobo

I admit the more I give and try

My dreams wither from the cold

All the while my head in the sky

I should have been digging for gold

Pocket lint, a hole for my change

Won’t keep me under my roof

Yet I continue to lose this game

And dreams no longer assumed

“Get a job” they shout from miles away

All from the tops of their lungs

Meanwhile I stop, stare, and dare

The thought of rising above

I admit the more I give and take

Each day is harder than the last

By living moments to break away

And knowing I stink of trash

Smart People

Smart People

Do Stupid Things For A Reason

Looking down at the path we strive
The ground is littered with trash
Beneath the waste lies steps of stone
From breathing memories past
For every finger that points astray
And leads us all to an end
There is a better choice to choose
And worse wounds to mend
In this battlefield of the mind
One wishes but to defend
To wash away the tears and pain
And for peace to descend

Daniel Jaffke

September 18, 1983 - January 31, 2014