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Death came in her black horse
black,……green….then red.
Burning ashes that disappear
between her fingers.
Emptiness
in the eyes only emptiness,
as the tears were long gone.
In the mind only emptiness,
Except,…….from time to time,
like a stifle breeze,
a faint memory that she didn’t like,
a shattered feeling,
a paralyze action.
From the cold tomb’s heart
Came a spirited wail,
Being trapped in death,
A veritable hell.
But life shall come to this soul to fill
Nevermore.
To the rotted corpse
Came the blackness of night
Streaming through cracks
And bones of white
But the sun shall rise and fill its sight
Nevermore.
From the silent, still, and blackened grave,
Came time to wash away the days
Of a life that passed like smoky haze
To return here
Nevermore.
By: Bobette Bryan
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone
Man has created death.
by William Butler Yeats
do you know…
do you know someone who is dead
like i do,like i do
well, don’t worry about their head
death ain’t no big thing you see
it ain’t no big thing to me
like i see it
it doesn’t matter how you die
or when you die
it’s just the way that you die
don’t wanna die of old age!
i wanna die doing one thing i love to do!
that would be alright by me
that would be alright by me
death means nothing to me
i’ve seen it from the day i was young little baby
and it’s the way that you die
and it’s the how hard you try
like my dear,like my dear,like my dear…
by Perry Farrell
Don’t fall too deep
Into the death trap
There is nothing to gain
And everything to lose
You get attached
To people you don’t know
Only to get hurt
For their stupid show
Your mind gets boggled
With thoughts that aren’t there
Your heart gets crushed
Just so they can snicker
The internet is my trap
Just like many others
Do not fall too deep
Into your death trap
by Gary R. Hess
I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows ’twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
Alan Seeger
I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows ’twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
Alan Seeger
Sipping herbal tea,I sensed your tension
You ask if I would pray with you this time
I knew this be the night you ask The Angel
To descend upon your sleep;Lift this cross
If I only had one wish I’d take your place
I shivered when you whispered;It was time
But true to my commitment to your plea
Tonight my love I’ll engage your destiny
I must confess bemoaning for my soul
Mercy’s queer temperance–Saint or sadist
And if my passion angers our Redeemer
May silence and lament be my penance
I’ve been told Iwill suffer for your peace
From the poison that harbored in yourbrain
Paralytic dawns,and turbid,manic dusks
Your terror was A cross I could not bare
Now my hands grasp filthy bars of steel
Much time to muse the ethics of justice
In hindsight—I would do it all again.
By Frank James Ryan , Jr.
Through airy roads he wings his instant flight
To purer regions of celestial light;
Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll,
Beneath him sees the universal whole,
Planets on planets run their destin’d round,
And circling wonders fill the vast profound.
Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies
With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes:
The angels view him with delight unknown,
Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne;
Then smilling thus: "To this divine abode,
"The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God,
"Thrice welcome thou." The raptur’d babe replies,
"Thanks to my God, who snatch’d me to the skies,
"E’er vice triumphant had possess’d my heart,
"E’er yet the tempter had beguil’d my heart,
"E’er yet on sin’s base actions I was bent,
"E’er yet I knew temptation’s dire intent;
"E’er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt,
"E’er vanity had led my way to guilt,
"But, soon arriv’d at my celestial goal,
"Full glories rush on my expanding soul."
Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round
Clapt their glad wings, the heav’nly vaults resound.
Say, parents, why this unavailing moan?
Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan?
To Charles, the happy subject of my song,
A brighter world, and nobler strains belong.
Say would you tear him from the realms above
By thoughtless wishes, and prepost’rous love?
Doth his felicity increase your pain?
Or could you welcome to this world again
The heir of bliss? with a superior air
Methinks he answers with a smile severe,
"Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there."
But still you cry, "Can we the sigh forbear,
"And still and still must we not pour the tear?
"Our only hope, more dear than vital breath,
"Twelve moons revolv’d, becomes the prey of death;
"Delightful infant, nightly visions give
"Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive,
"We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast,
"The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest."
To yon bright regions let your faith ascend,
Prepare to join your dearest infant friend
In pleasures without measure, without end.
Phillis Wheatley
