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![]() ![]() ![]() See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poem Lord Have Mercy in her Chicago feature “Nerves of a Poet” live at Café Cabaret at Café Ballou 11/21/14 with music from the HA!Man of South Africa (C) |
![]() ![]() ![]() See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poem Lord Have Mercy in her Chicago feature “Nerves of a Poet” live at Café Cabaret at Café Ballou 11/21/14 with music from the HA!Man of South Africa (S c glow) |
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![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poem Lord Have Mercy live 6/24/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago (Canon Power Shot) |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poem Lord Have Mercy live 6/24/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago (filmed with a Canon fs200) |
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Lord Have MercyJanet Kuypers11/3/14
Looked into the coffin
at least that’s what I hear,
until his bones crumbled to dust.
the people at the funeral home
and as the family walked
for more reasons than death,
viewing of the man they lost, now,
When the services started
the reverend’s laments by all Lord have mercy.
The man with the collar would talk,
to hold the job of applying make-up
not so dead. Puff the cheeks, apply face paint
Beforehand, a string of older firemen
with small black bands over each
started, before the town even had a
with ladders tacked to the sides,
Lord have mercy. The man with
everyone in this small town
like little lemmings, and I tried
my childhood that I have no reason
something, anything, to make them
Lord have mercy. The man with
that people were created for life,
But stifle the overwhelming desire
now in a coffin, for the coldness
Lord have mercy. Wanted to try
different angle; maybe then
Maybe then I wouldn’t see his lack
maybe then I wouldn’t see
Lord have mercy. I remember
before they proceeded to the coffin
of people waiting to congratulate
their wedding ceremony),
all of the funeral attendants
“I’m sorry for your loss,” and I wonder
had to say those words
how hollow these words were
when the words then seemed so stifling,
say this when nothing can express
people don’t know how to feel #
The chants now ended; the Knights
repeated prayers for the painted man
the pain we don’t know how
was all I could think, not to call
at an empty time, with too many
We’re all players in this charade,
that we want to believe is not ghoulish,
unless we choose to ignore the macabre
We mourn, or cry, and we try to fit
And for those who believe,
these seem the only fitting words
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