Epilogue 4
you feel asleep in a big toy
box
the air, the water, the ground
say
let's go and find the true
way
or you want to do a delicately
suicide
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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Fitration Bags
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Trash Bag
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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A Valentine in Pain
A dream of hidden death,
Embedded in her flowers –
Dripping; drenched in nectar tears
Now the dream of dying soul;
Confined, a trembling heart is
Squeezing out the ember years
And in her dream of youth,
Abounding buttocks writhe,
Acting out the careless dares
But the dream of hideous beauty:
Self-delusion, begging fears
Evolving from an agonising birth, her
Blacker days eclipsing; draining worth
‘So ugly living calls to die –
Forever in the dreams I cry! ’
Erotic debt; a laughing lie
Were done for her –
A blade for sure!
The dreams to cure!
A calming sigh…
And in a smile of pain
She bled and waned
Her cold pathetic bye
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Suicide Lovers
suicide lovers 6x
suicide lovers are always there in the dark still together
still huging eachother still holding eachother up
suicide lovers are the only ones in the dark
shering ther feeling and shering ther thoughts
feeling pain and feeling love thinking about dieing
and thinking about been with eachotherno matter what
they talk about how there going to die together
holding hands and deareming about the day that comes
suicide lovers are the only ones int he dark still
hugging eachother and holding eachother up dreaming
about love and dreaming about the heart when it stops
we all die and we'll never give it up they think life has no point
theres nothing in the worldfor them exept for eachother
ther thinking about having a baby and dieing together
suicide lovers have a babythere baby is growing up good
and strong. healthy and stands up for herself the
she finds a guy just like her they are together forevere
they will never give it up ther love becomes pure and up ther
thinking about marriageand having a baby of there own
they have a son there dreams come truethey will call him
skyler a name they both like, they are thinking about another
baby so they have a girl and call her carli they thought that carli was
a goog name for there child skyler and carli are getting along
one is 17 and one is 21, damb they grow ou fast and strong
i cant belive what they been throug years dreaming and thinking
the world of each other they both find ther one and the both
are happy so they will be together forever! !
suicide lovers, suicide lovers, suicide lovers
suicide suicide i already diiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeedddddd...... loverrrrrrrrrrrrrss
suicide lovers suicide lovers are always in the dark
suicide lovers 6x
suicide lovers are always there in the dark still together
still huging eachother still holding eachother up
suicide lovers are the only ones in the dark
shering ther feeling and shering ther thoughts
feeling pain and feeling love thinking about dieing
and thinking about been with eachotherno matter what
they talk about how there going to die together
holding hands and deareming about the day that comes
suicide lovers are the only ones int he dark still
hugging eachother and holding eachother up dreaming
about love and dreaming about the heart when it stops
we all die and we'll never give it up they think life has no point
theres nothing in the worldfor them exept for eachother
ther thinking about having a baby and dieing together
[...] Read more
poem by Valya Madden
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Den
Brain walls: bio-insulation keeps me cosy
in my hidden room.
Eye balls: bio-windows let me peer and sneer
upon our filthy race, with
Ear holes – bio-microphones – assuming tones
I only wish to face.
Inside, I flit between assimilation,
fantasy, and desperation – each another room
for me to occupy –
as in a nest or burrow, a honeycombed hive –
fathoming which to best survive in;
harbour me from that outside.
Shit! It’s just as bad in here –
I need another den to hide in!
So where’s a niche to keep me from the world,
but also from my rabid head?
Yes, of course –! it’s being dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Unlock That Box Just For You
The key to feeling happy and free...
Unlock that box.
And walk away from it when you get out.
Experience what life is about.
It's not inside to keep up whining,
It's not inside to throw a tantrum and pout.
The key to feeling happy and free...
You've got to move your feet with direct speed.
You've got to unleash from guilt and pity.
The key to feeling happy and free...
You've got to accept what is there and care!
You can not wish for something you think is fair.
The key to feeling happy and free...
You've got to unload despair and grief.
You've got to move with faith and beliefs.
The key to feeling happy and free...
You've got to move your feet with direct speed.
You've got to unleash from guilt and pity.
The key to feeling happy and free...
You've got to accept what is there and care!
You can not wish for something you think is fair.
The key to feeling happy and free...
Unlock that box.
And walk away from it when you get out.
Experience what life is about.
It's not inside to keep up whining,
It's not inside to throw a tantrum and pout.
The key to feeling happy and free...
Unlock that box and get out.
Look around and see what your world's about.
The key to feeling happy and free...
Unlock that box and get out.
Look around and see what your world's about.
The key to feeling happy and free...
Unlock that box and get out.
Look around and see what your world's about.
The key to feeling happy and free...
Unlock that box and get out.
Unlock that box and get out.
Unlock that box and get out.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bruce Lee
( bullet got the wrong bloke )
Life kid suck
Drink from the box
The juice kicks up
Life give suck the box drink
Yeah
Life kid drink from the box
The juice kicks up
Life kids sucker
Box drink
Yeah
Bruce lee
Life kid seen from the box
Seen from the box
The juice from the box
Kids suck life
Kid get suck from the box
Drink
Bruce lee
Life kid suck from the box
Drink from the box
The juice kicks up
Life kid suck from the box
Drink
Yeah
Bruce lee
Life gets in from the box
Seen from the box
The juice from the box
Kids suck life
Kid get suck from the box
Drink
Bruce lee
Life kid suck from the box
Drink from the box
The juice kicks up
Life kid suck from the box
Drink
Yeah
Bruce lee
( yeah yeah yeah yeah )
Life kid suck from the box
Drink from the box
The juice kicks up
Life kid suck from the box
Yeah
Bruce lee
Life kid ? ? from the box
Seen from the box
Drink from the box
[...] Read more
song performed by Underworld
Added by Lucian Velea
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Suicide.
Suicide, suicide
Your presence is near
Suicide, suicide
I wish you were here
Suicide, suicide
Take me away
Suicide, suicide
Please make it today
Suicide, suicide
An answer, for me
Suicide, suicide
I need to escape, be free
Suicide, suicide
I’ve had too much
Suicide, suicide
Take me, do your touch
Suicide, suicide
Leave the rest behind
Suicide, suicide
You’re all over my mind
Suicide, suicide
Let me pass in peace
Suicide, suicide
I need to release
poem by Lisa French
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Suicide, suicide
Suicide, suicide
Come and save me
Suicide, suicide
Come and take me
Suicide, suicide
Where are you hiding
Suicide, suicide
Please let it be now
Suicide, suicide
Give me and answer
Suicide, suicide
Release me, i beg of you
Suicide, suicide
I can't take no more
Suicide, suicide
Free me, please touch me
Suicide, suicide
Help me end this
Suicide, suicide
It's only you in my mind
Suicide, suicide
Take me silently
Suicide, suicide
I need it now more than ever
poem by Sumiya Khan
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Her Bliss
Death is in the flower's heart –
Why to cry for life of any petal?
Death in purple ink of weary pens
Betrays the written yearnings
On her scented paper.
Death is laughing in her cry;
Her broken heart forlorn upon the sleeve.
Death ignores the plight of any purity –
He doesn’t care or seem to be aware of
What her dewy eye desires,
For Death beckoned:
'Embrace the jar! '
And yes, she did –
For Death, of course.
After all, no other man would
Open up her hand and bid her with a kiss,
So Death became her bliss.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Embrace unconquerable life
Suicide; is a ghastily lingering spirit between
resplendently sparkling heaven and diabolically
ghastly hell,
Suicide; is the most desperately hedonistic crime
committed against every conceivable fraternity of all
mankind,
Suicide; is the most truculently unforgivable outburst
of any organism; murderously imperiling the crux of
symbiotically mesmerizing existence,
Suicide; is a ghoulishly amorphous abode; without the
most infinitesimal trace of doors; windows and
robustly functioning entities,
Suicide; is an indescribably treacherous venom; which
brutally asphyxiates the impoverished ghost; even
after the wholesome end of priceless life,
Suicide; is the most preposterously scurrilous corpse
that incarcerated you from all sides; morbidly
dampening every quintessential iota of your blood,
Suicide; is the most luridly mortifying death that an
entity could ever undergo; ensuring that he
indefatigably suffocated in diminutive lidfulls of
water while the other world danced; everytime it was
born,
Suicide; is the most ultimate curse of the devil upon
every civilization; religion and tribe; afflicting the
fabric of society like an uncontrollably lambasting
tumor; which simply had no end,
Suicide; is perniciously sinister balderdash; the most
incongruously distorted and heartlessly inclement
fantasy; that the stinking pigs could ever construe,
Suicide; is a coffin of disparagingly bludgeoning
solitude; a measly quavering insect being blown away
into the aisles of nothingness; at even the most
mercurial draught of infidel wind,
Suicide; is a salaciously jinxed witch casting her
spell of unsurpassable doom; even upon the most
blissfully gratifying of destinies,
Suicide; is a vindictively hollow and lecherously
gawky edifice; baselessly wavering towards the gallows
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dear suicide
Dear suicide
Why I ‘am alive?
Suicide suicide
Why is so sad?
A lot of pain in my life
Suicide suicide
My heart is so black
Full of pain and sadness
Suicide suicide
My thoughts were so nice
But now I’m so sad
Suicide suicide
I always cry, don’t hurt me again
I just want to be free and fly
Suicide suicide
I don’t want to cry anymore
All I want is fly in the sky
Suicide suicide
The end is coming for me
The beginning of the end of my life
Suicide suicide
Just let me rest in peace
And never come back
Suicide suicide
Time to go
I say goodbye
Suicide suicide
Thanks for listened to me
I’ll see you in my new life
Suicide suicide
Adios
Ciao
Goodbye.
poem by Alex Rodriguez
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Suicide & Depression Of My Life.
Suicide. Is a big part of my daily income.
Suicide. Made My docter give me those drugs.
Suicide. Makes My life hole.
Suicide. I dont know any better.
Suicide. Theres no life for me with shelter.
Suicide. Can i ever be happy.?
Suicide. I push myself away from loving another.
Depression. Has made me a horrible person.
Depression. Pushed me away from the ones i needed.
Depression. Made me a bad person., as though im told.
Depression. Was caused by this thing called Shizophrenia.
Depression. Is something im told i will have to live with for the rest of my life.
Depression. Please, please. Help me. I want to get out.
Suicide. My wrists, they bleed more then enough.
Suicide. It hurts me, on inside and out.
Suicide. The day will come soon.
Suicide. Im over it, bring me a knife.
Suicide. This is hurting me so much.
Suicide. My hearts ripped apart.
Suicide. Dont worry this wont be the end.
Suicide. I will see you again.
Suicide. I love you, and that will never change.
Suicide. This isnt your fault.
Suicide. So goodbye to you, i love you, goodnight.
Suicide. Dont let me ruin your life.
*READ* To everyone who read this, this is pretty much what i have to feel each day, i have mental health problems, and thats something i have to live with, im only young so i have learnt to grow with it. Please, to anyone who think about suicide, dont.. It not only hurts you, but hurts people around you, and iv learnt that along the way. So be happy with what you have, and the people you've got. And be glad you dont have a mental disorder and a disease. It hurts, so bad. =(
poem by Tegaana randomm
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Suicide Countdown.
suicide, suicide i wish i was dead.
suicide, suicide oh how much my wrists have bled.
suicide, suicide were almost there.
suicide, suicide no more skin, the blade will tear.
suicide, suicide we have one week.
suicide, suicide so filled with relief, i cannot speak.
seven days, suicide; until i die.
six days, suicide; no longer will i cry.
five days, suicide; ooh i cant wait.
four days, suicide; until i meet my fate.
three days, suicide; till my last word is said.
two days, suicide; twenty four hours till im dead.
one day, suicide; till night tears through dawn.
today, suicide; i am dead, i am gone.
{ some Tiddely Winks person, copied and pasted my poem on their profile. I WROTE THIS, IT ANGERS ME SAVAGELY TO THINK SOMEONE TOOK MY POEM.! !
poem by Marissa E '
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Any form of life was better than death
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw countless haplessly orphaned children; being viciously kicked into dustbins of malice; for ostensibly no reason or rhyme,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw the pricelessly innocuous female fetus; being brutally assassinated and aborted; right in the very depths of the unassailably godly womb,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw heartlessly cold-blooded men; ruthlessly felling innumerable a tree; using its blessed branches; trunk and roots; for evolving lifelessly wastrel commodities,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw demonically manipulating politicians; weigh the very essence of unconquerably righteous life; in terms of wantonly decrepit currency coin,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw innocently minor girls being brutally raped; by the diabolically idiosyncratic perversions of sadistic man,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw peerlessly impeccable blood being parasitically sucked from newborn forms; just in order to spuriously enrich and consecrate; the already blessed and bountiful human form,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw boundless wives and children reduced to a cadaverous carcass; as the man of the family simply refrained to budge an inch to earn; cannibalistically guzzling the last dropp of wine and vixen; to be found of planet earth,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw beautifully fructifying wildlife being emotionlessly beheaded; just in order to become the exuberant delicacy; of the already replenished palette,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw robustly ebullient organisms doing nothing but just endlessly gazing at fathomless sky; nonsensically proclaiming that their destiny would one day and eventually take them to the absolute epitome of cloud nine,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw one man derogatorily slaving and slavering for another man; wherein the Omnipotent Creator had created all symbiotically equal in the first place,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw millions of innocent being indiscriminately butchered; in the wrath and aftermath of barbarously thwarting bombardment and war,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw satanic terrorists launch an inconsolably pulverizing assault on one particular fraternity of mankind; in the name of sacrifice to the Omnipresent Lord,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw hordes of people blindfoldedly offering their last ounce of wealth to the Omnipotent deity of the Lord; who in the first place owned every speck of the unending Universe; and who wanted them to benevolently donate the same to all suffering living kind instead,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw school going girls and boys begging hoarsely on the obdurately chauvinistic streets; with their parents abhorrently using them to tickle the soft corner of the opulent society,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw women of all ages; right from the age of my daughter; to sister to mother; tawdrily selling their flesh to hedonistically dastardly men; just for securing those two quintessential morsels of food,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw limitless dying unattended on the freezing streets; because of unforgivably ghastly corruption; viciously infiltrating in every echelon of the government and society,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw impudently pretentious brats; telling their life-bestowing parents to clean the stagnating shit in their houses; whilst they themselves deliriously drowned themselves; into barrels of sinfully expensive wine and cigarette smoke,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw the most perpetually faithful of lovers salaciously separate like a miserably broken leaf; at the tiniest of objection from the sanctimoniously turgid society,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw selfishly shriveled man; praying to God for solely impregnating his lungs with a countless breaths; instead of immortally sharing the same in perfect symbiosis with endless numbers of his own kind,
But when I was actually committing suicide. I felt that any form of life was better than death; as I approached my very last breath. For if at all I could endeavor my very best to ameliorate every fraternity of estranged and maliciously cannibalistic living kind; then by the grace of God it could be only while in undefeated life and not the slightest after stonily gory death…
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Roan Stallion
The dog barked; then the woman stood in the doorway, and hearing
iron strike stone down the steep road
Covered her head with a black shawl and entered the light rain;
she stood at the turn of the road.
A nobly formed woman; erect and strong as a new tower; the
features stolid and dark
But sculptured into a strong grace; straight nose with a high bridge,
firm and wide eyes, full chin,
Red lips; she was only a fourth part Indian; a Scottish sailor had
planted her in young native earth,
Spanish and Indian, twenty-one years before. He had named her
California when she was born;
That was her name; and had gone north.
She heard the hooves and
wheels come nearer, up the steep road.
The buckskin mare, leaning against the breastpiece, plodded into
sight round the wet bank.
The pale face of the driver followed; the burnt-out eyes; they had
fortune in them. He sat twisted
On the seat of the old buggy, leading a second horse by a long
halter, a roan, a big one,
That stepped daintily; by the swell of the neck, a stallion. 'What
have you got, Johnny?' 'Maskerel's stallion.
Mine now. I won him last night, I had very good luck.' He was
quite drunk, 'They bring their mares up here now.
I keep this fellow. I got money besides, but I'll not show you.'
'Did you buy something, Johnny,
For our Christine? Christmas comes in two days, Johnny.' 'By
God, forgot,' he answered laughing.
'Don't tell Christine it's Christmas; after while I get her something,
maybe.' But California:
'I shared your luck when you lost: you lost me once, Johnny, remember?
Tom Dell had me two nights
Here in the house: other times we've gone hungry: now that
you've won, Christine will have her Christmas.
We share your luck, Johnny. You give me money, I go down to
Monterey to-morrow,
Buy presents for Christine, come back in the evening. Next day
Christmas.' 'You have wet ride,' he answered
Giggling. 'Here money. Five dollar; ten; twelve dollar. You
buy two bottles of rye whiskey for Johnny.'
A11 right. I go to-morrow.'
He was an outcast Hollander; not
old, but shriveled with bad living.
The child Christine inherited from his race blue eyes, from his
life a wizened forehead; she watched
From the house-door her father lurch out of the buggy and lead
with due respect the stallion
To the new corral, the strong one; leaving the wearily breathing
buckskin mare to his wife to unharness.
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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She’s Gone
Eyes bemused –
A disconnect
Dermal swathes of young and old
Reject the guessing of your age
You’re blind –
A blueprint for blankness
Your dreaming pipes through nothingness –
Are you still afloat? – atop the oceans,
Heaving, heavy over Hell,
Boiling, spoiling in a mind that couldn’t cope.
Ah! but Death smiles
And so do you
Kissing Him
Is all to do!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dont Try Suicide
Words and music by freddie mercury
A-one two three four one
Yeah
Ok
Dont do it dont you try it baby
Dont do that dont dont dont
Dont do that
You got a good thing going now
Dont do it dont do it
Dont
Dont try suicide
Nobodys worth it
Dont try suicide
Nobody cares
Dont try suicide
Youre just gonna hate it
Dont try suicide
Nobody gives a damn
So you think its the easy way out?
Think youre gonna slash your wrists
This time
Baby when you do it all you do is
Get on my tits
Dont do that try try try baby
Dont do that - you got a good thing going now
Dont do it dont do it
Dont
Dont try suicide
Nobodys worth it
Dont try suicide
Nobody cares
Dont try suicide
Youre just gonna hate it
Dont try suicide
Nobody gives a damn
You need help
Look at yourself you need help
You need life
So dont hang yourself
Its ok ok ok ok
You just cant be a prick teaser all of the time
A little bit attention - you got it
Need some affection - you got it
Suicide suicide suicide bid
Suicide suicide suicide bid
Suicide
Dont do it dont do it dont do it babe (yeah)
Dont do it dont do it dont - do it
Yeah
Dont put your neck on the line
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song performed by Queen
Added by Lucian Velea
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