About paulreesjones

There isn't much to say...I write...I sleep...I write some more. Sometimes here, sometimes in my head...I am odd.


And I sometimes struggle

When he gets in my head

I think of his laughter

And have trouble knowing he’s dead

I sit listening to music

Letting myself cry to the lyrical loss

But I know that it is more than music

There is just so much cost

A mother and father burying the son

A sister as messed up as her only brother

Perhaps that is just what mourning is

Feeling sorry for sister, father and mother.

Or maybe it is easier to hide your pain

In the pain of those who share it with you

I dont know what grief is supposed to be

I just miss the brother I hardly knew.

And that is enough of that.


Prayer of the dying.

I wish I had 1000 years

I wish I had the time

To tell you all the secrets

That loses strength untold

I wish I had 500 years

To speak about the world

To bring about a smile

Before it comes unbound

I wish I had 100 years

To speak of my love

To see you every morning

Kiss you every night

I wish I had a few more years

To hold you safe in arms

To make sure all would be ok

And remind you you are not alone.

My Brother. RIP.

He was my big brother
The bully and the protector
My opposite and my friend
Larger than life
Louder than life
He was quick to anger
And quicker to laugh
I miss the bully
I miss my protector
I miss the anger
I miss my opposite and friend.
And I miss that laughter
We were as close as brothers can be
And I loved him as a brother does…
My big brother


He was my brother

We were night and day

We shared a mother

What else can I say

We grew up together

Through blue skies and grey

He was my brother.

We were different people

No sense in denying it

He had no equal

Tough but with a big heart

He dappled in the illegal

Yet held on to a good spirit

Lay still in deaths cathedral.

I will always love you Brother.


If you look in the corner, you can see the evidence of a life less traveled. There are specs of dust, pieces of what was in crumbs and skin. These are the pieces you can’t sweep, where the vacuum cannot reach. You can move, but those specs remain. If you pile the specs of our lives in a pile…we can climb high on the forgotten pieces.

Arguement with me

And you said I knew why

To keeping the chest moving

To feel something more than stone

To want the blood flowing

To keep knowing

Keep going

Release the anchor towing

Let the tired arms keep rowing

Let the sadness stop growing

You said it would be alright

You in the mirror smiling



You look like me

But you are not me

I am not me

Queue laughter

Fade to black.