Not Everyone Lived by Jeff Weddle

Jeff Weddle, Poetry

Not Everyone Lived

Phil sure didn’t.

He kept rage inside

and around him

like an aura

of false smiles

and forced laughter

and drank

until his pancreas

told him to go

fuck himself.

Danny drank

until he turned yellow

then orange

then dead.

David was crazy

first of all

and then there was

all that vodka

for all those years

until his liver

told him to get bent.

with Tom it was pills

and liquor

and god knows what

and then the liver

flipped him off

while he was hoping

for a transplant.

Eric smoked and drank

without ceasing

and didn’t give a fuck

about anything

and finally

the cancer came.

Doonie made it home

from Iraq

with so much

poison in him

it was just

a matter of time

though that time

stretched decades.

Donna got cancer

for no good reason.

The nice lady

at the vet’s office

was just gone

one day.

I think it was

her heart.

And these are

only the ones

I knew well

or truly liked

or counted

as friends.

So many 


from disease

and drinking




And here I sit

old and fat

bad knees

bad shoulders

bad back

bad mind

bad attitude

bad intentions

more or less fine

as the world

becomes still

and small

missing a few

of the vanished

and waiting

for whatever

is to come.

Always by Jeff Weddle

Jeff Weddle, Poetry


You walk through the door and hear the crashing.

It’s odd, because before you opened the door

everything was quiet.

Now, it’s so loud you can’t think.

You walk through the door and the lights hurt your eyes.

So many colors, each one new and brighter

than colors have a right to be

colors you wish you could describe

but words don’t exist for any of them.

You walk through the door

and hear the crashing and see the people.

You see the people running like crazy.

You see the people dancing. 

You see the people fighting

and yelling unintelligible words.

You see the people making love and firing weapons.

Sheila finds you.

She takes your arm and leads you to the edge.

Past the edge there is nothing.

No lights, no crashing, no people.

Sheila leads you past the edge.

She is hungry and takes your flesh as her meal.

She shreds you and eats every bite.

You are now entirely Sheila

and she is entirely you.

You emerge into a desert.

It is finally night and the stars sing.

You are in love.

What could be worse?

You forget who you were before you became Sheila.

Then you forget Sheila.

You fall into the place before.

You fall into the crashing.

You become the nameless colors.

There is a door somewhere

and beyond that door is the whole world.

You move with the rhythm of weapons firing.

You move with the logic of color.

Everything is dance.

You are the nameless time.

Finally, you understand flow

and everything happens.

Everything happens.

Everything happens.