I don't mourn the dead. I mourn the living.
quote by Stephen Evans
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Mourn At My Funeral
Never mourn at my funeral
Because i'm not dead but sleeping
And relaxing on Abraham's bossom
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in view to mourning
But within you, you're here to mock
Because my poetry has once expose your secret-deeds
Throw my body where you please
Or let it be dismembered
Never mourn at my funeral
You the insect that bites my daffodils
And you who want my fish to swim on a dry earth
Throw me on a stormy sea
Where Jonah fell
But its a glorious shame
I can never sight the river bank of Joppa
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in my maker's name
Just to bless my end
Go thy way and search for lust souls
Wear them a garment pure as snow
Before they lie low with me
And journey hell eternal
Never mourn at my funeral
But mourn for we're debtors of death
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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Blues For The Widow Of The Victim Of A Racist Attck
Mourn, and mourn hard
Your tears shall fall wasted and uncollected
On this damp slab of concrete
Mourn though young widow
Weep because your husband is dead
Cry because the crowd has left and you're alone
And ganged up against by the priests and the
Celebrity pastors who piously tell you
To forgive and forget
Sob because you're surrounded by the officials
Whom the wise state has instructed to order you
To accept reconciliation without justice
Cry the river of your tears because
Your dear departed husband is dead
And your lovely children will know what it's like
To miss the soothing voice of their father
So brutally snatched away from them
And dragged behind a speeding vehicle and fed
To the lions for the sick amusement
Of a deranged and kaffir hating racist
Mourn for yourself mama
Now you'll face the world alone
With the dubious title of a single parent
Hanging on your fragile and emaciated neck
Mourn and cry and weep for the widows
Of the victims of genocide
Mourn and cry and weep for the sisters
Who are cornered and raped by their xenophobic neighbors
Mourn and cry and weep for the victims of the hurricane of
The internecine strife of ethnic cleansing and tribal warfare
Mourn and cry and weep for they
Who die unlamented in the flower of their youth
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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The Intruder Of A Family Affair
there are so many
who died taking with them
in their own graves
the lies of their lives,
it is unethical to judge them
the way you wanted to make them
divulge these secrets is an invasion
you destroy their territories
you burn their safe-houses
it is like stepping upon the
sand palaces of the ants
and then spraying their whole population
with pesticide
you think that you have served so well
those who are still living
look at them, they mourn and
still will mourn for the years
they feel being deceived
and tricked into a misery that they do not deserve
because you have taken hold of the truth of the dead
and revealed them to the grieving
(it is none of your business, intruder!
you deserve a thousand deaths!)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I'm Killed
When I’m killed, don’t think of me
Buried there in Cambrin Wood,
Nor as in Zion think of me
With the Intolerable Good.
And there’s one thing that I know well,
I’m damned if I’ll be damned to Hell!
So when I’m killed, don’t wait for me,
Walking the dim corridor;
In Heaven or Hell, don’t wait for me,
Or you must wait for evermore.
You’ll find me buried, living-dead
In these verses that you’ve read.
So when I’m killed, don’t mourn for me,
Shot, poor lad, so bold and young,
Killed and gone — don’t mourn for me.
On your lips my life is hung:
O friends and lovers, you can save
Your playfellow from the grave.
poem by Robert Graves
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We mourn the death of the forest universal
The town outside my window moans.
We mourn not for the death of Industry
Nor for the ghost of the English gentle men
We lament for the stars that have been hidden from gazers.
We lament for dead rats trapped electronic cages.
Have we learnt nothing through the ages?
We mourn the death of the forest universal
We mourn the death of culture as media vultures
Prey upon the minds of the young.
Outside the rain takes its toll upon the pavement
Washing away the reminents of Autumns presence.
He awaits in hibernatuin, a soul ready for consideration.
I dreamt last night of a gleaming crown, An Angel
Came forth to say. ‘Embrace the child don’t shoot her down,
Make love throughout the day.
poem by David Lacey
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Mosiah 18: 8
I do not share his feelings -
not that I don't care, definitely not.
It's just that he's crying for something
I'm happy about.
How in the world could I feel sorrow
for something I rejoice of...
How can I conceal the smiles
in the midst of his pain-
and mourn, yet deep inside I just but feign?
Surely, I feel sorry for him
but I don't share his feelings.
I want to give him comfort
but how, I know not.
I'm afraid that in this moment of his life,
my face would fail me...I hope not.
Tell me, is it really that easy
to mourn with those that mourn?
23 October 2010
San Nicolas
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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15th August to Bengali people
Mourn
It's a command I demmand you
mourn, fool and so ignorant
you must mourn
History is clear, amazingly open
and you still say you don't know that
a pity, I must say you should mourn,
you deserve no sympathy, you lost all
In this caged race, they will dominate, a few
and you so enormous don't understand
what you lost, your root
you must mourn, you want deception, prefer ambiguity
afraid! I have no sympathy
my poor fellow, beloved countrymen
you must mourn.
Note: Bengali people still today say they don't know the real history of their liberation war. What a shame! Actually everybody knows the history because there is no two story. we faught and liberate our country. And then some collabratore killed the Father of the nation Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in 15th August 1975. To confuse all they say we do not know the real history of liberation war. but actually there is no real history, as history is one. And it is, Sheikh Mujib was the mastermind of our leberation. A handfull of Biheris and west pakistany settlers and their sympathesizers run the country after 1975 and still conspiring against Bengali people. they speak in Bengali, but they hate Bengali. and Bengali people do not still understand this and do not realize what they lost. Alas!
poem by Humayun Nasir
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Solitude Of Loss
Behold thy sister - on a journey so long
behold she leaves to return no more
behold thy sister - thy only companion
remember your times for there'll never be more
wipe your tears 'cos leave she must
no matter the wail she ne'er return
begin to mourn - for your sister is dead
oh this lad shall wail but the deed is done
silence and seethe have crept in to stay
oh the emptiness of loss and sorrow to bear
to carry the load all - all alone
and pigments of grief his face to smear
his life alone - a thing to learn
his morn of mourn shall be of darkness
the pain of loss shall be his own
and his nights shall be of torment and coldness
oh! the grieving psyche of him
death has failed to complete his work
the spiritual bond is not severed
his life to mourn forever locked
poem by Mbanaso Samuel
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We always knew how to honor fallen soldiers. They were killed for our sake, they went out on our mission. But how are we to mourn a random man killed in a terrorist attack while sitting in a cafe? How do you mourn a housewife who got on a bus and never returned?
quote by A.B. Yehoshua
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sp00l
Turn another turn...
Turn another turn, sp00l...
I think therefore I am, familiar to most?
How long did we eat the seed planted by our host?
4 billion years between our ears
Still hatred brings us many tears
Still we judge each other...
Why when were only looking for the same high?
Grind time for old misconceptions.
Roll out new scenery as per suggestion.
Wont salute you. wont desert you.
Wont be a prisoner of assumption anymore.
Does language define us? is reality... words?
How far do we appear to be...
Is the measure of... scope. but...
With our junkie soul, we face the need,
Of natures planned dependency.
Dont hold contempt for ecstasy
Just... mourn the dead... on the (national) screen,
Mourn the dead... on the screen, mourn the dead...
On the screen, mourn the dead... while they scream!!!
Grind time for old misconceptions.
Roll out new scenery as per suggestion.
Wont salute you. wont desert you.
Sp00l
Turn another turn!
Turn another turn!
Sp00l
Turn another turn!
Dont need persuading by the status quo.
We can make changes.
If we open up well see... the history they sell us
Holds the structure firm, reinforce the mold.
We need to strip it all away....
And let the sp00l turn, turn,
Another turn,
Another turn.
Watch it turn, watch it turn. what well learn.
Grind time for old misconceptions.
Roll out new scenery as per suggestion.
Wont salute you. wont desert you.
Sp00l
Turn another turn!
Turn another turn!
Sp00l
Turn another turn!
Push away what theyre selling me,
Realize what we need to be.
Focus on a strategy to
Open up our minds and then,
Together... turn another turn.
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Testament
The decomposing wall I see
That encompasses the long dead
Lies interspersed among the trees
Whose living, fingered roots are fed
with nourishment of sublimed faith.
I pause a moment…
Panning the surroundings I see
Row after row of unknown dead
Whose tombstones depict family trees
Whose living relatives are fed
The same promises of blind faith.
Why must I lament?
The brown withered leaves that I see
Wind-blown atop the buried dead
Should I mourn provenance: the trees?
Why then the promise that is fed:
Life after death by keeping faith.
A fool is content.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you'd planned.
quote by Lynn Redgrave
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Possessions dwindle: I mourn their loss. But I mourn the loss of time much more, for anyone can save his purse, but none can win back lost time.
Why Is It…
You ask;
“Why is it Ray you always dress in black?
Do you mourn the dying and the dead?
Is it because soldiers come home in sacks,
Or on TV see jihad Muslims behead? ”
“Do you mourn Mother Earth they trash?
For laying waste to once lush forest lands?
A greedy few who sell their souls for cash,
Who on Liberty’s apron wipe bloody hands? ”
I answer;
Today and more tomorrows, I’ll wear black
Till peace upon a troubled Earth prevails
When evil ones let go and give power back
When balance returns to “Justice Scales”
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Mourners
Weeping for ones who in darkness lie,
the ones who in distress have sold their helpless souls;
for ones who have been born only to die...
perhaps for ones they never knew at all.
At times in graveyard they bury their thoughts
as though in there the sentiments hide some sacred notes.
At times they and corpses alike must maintain
the silence of the grave...
I wonder what played beneath their heads
that made them scream a hollow cry
or that if ever in their solemn lips
float the shadows of a lie.
No one has been so desperate to cry as they...
finding reasons to fill their eyes with false tears
or making them real as they recall
the pain of all the years.
They mourn for others and sometimes for themselves;
they mourn perhaps for unwanted fears...
condemning, regretting, yet waiting
for the price after the tears.
I thought that life was different for those
who in silence mourn.
But then life's all the same-
for everything that dies has once been born.
Life is never different for them
who mourn in silence,
for everything that started must come to an end.
Just then, life's all the same-
I watched them from a distance,
pretending as they play the game.
Some think of them as crazy,
for some, ordinary fools.
They, are called THE MOURNERS
and I am one of them.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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The Thracian
Thracian parents, at his birth,
Mourn their babe with many a tear,
But, with undissembled mirth,
Place him breathless on his bier.
Greece and Rome, with equal score,
'O the savages!' exclaim,
'Whether they rejoice or mourn,
Well entitled to the name!'
But the cause of this concern
And this pleasure would they trace,
Even they might somewhat learn
From the savages of Thrace.
poem by William Cowper
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How Does A Relationship End? ....
in Siayan the woman who broke up with her man
ended up dead,
he rationalized that if he could not own her
let no one can
the parents mourn for the death of their baby
whom
not a fly had ever landed on her skin
on his part
his life has no meaning anymore
he has become
the living dead and then with one fatal shot in his head
he exploded
death
there are two coffins in the neighborhood
two funerals
many mourners
ten lamentations
on a tongue in cheek
one of those who gambled on those wake nights asked
all in the name of Love?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Someone who is about to die does not mourn the dead.
quote by Friedrich Durrenmatt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pain of the Earth
DOES the earth grow grey with grief
For her hero darling fled?
Though her vales let fall no leaf,
In our hearts her tears are shed.
Still the stars laugh on above:
Not to them her grief is said;
Mourning for her hero love
In our hearts the tears are shed.
We her children mourn for him,
Mourn the elder hero dead;
In the twilight grey and dim
In our hearts the tears are shed.
poem by George William Russell
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