Life is unbearable, but death is not so pleasant either.
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Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable
The death of a twelve year old,
Her sister shed tears,
But the body was cold,
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
She felt all had lost hope,
It was her fault,
'I let go the rope! '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
'I should have pulled her up'
'I lost grip'
'I should'nt have given up! '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
'You trusted me! '
'And there is no reason....'
' No you shouldn't have, see? '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
'No! It's not your fault! ',
Said her sister,
Who lay dead in the vault,
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
poem by Ulveena Aitzaz
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Death is when....
Death is when my loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain in my heart
Death is this feeling of permanent sadness and pain
Death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is the call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is the lesson i need to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is this unhappy feeling i have
Death is pleasant on my behalf
Death is the day i end my life
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is happiness to the world around me
Death started when i gained my life
Death can be helped along with this knife
Death is where i shall go
Death is close, i kno
Death willl come fast
Death is vast
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
Death is joy to me
Death has come for me
Death is gonna take me
Death will stop my misery
Death loves my company
Death ends the pain
Death takes me on that train
Death is near
Death is finally here
Things Do
The pain is just unbearable
Nothing anyone can do
Hurt is so unbearable
Life is torturing
Only love I wish for
Sadly, never ever I get it
This feeling never gets over
Unending is the agony
Nothing else I want, other than this feeling to end
Suffering to heal
Love to spread
Will that ever be?
My heart wonders
This distress I want to be over with
Little love, I want to spread in my life
No matter how much anyone makes me suffer
Still, I will do anything to survive
Unbearable, things do become.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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An Old Man Wants Life To Be Pleasant
An old man wants life to be pleasant
He does not want to know too much
About the wars and conflicts of the world
He does not want to hear too much noise
He does not want to hear people argue
And know about other peoples quarrels
He wants life to be pleasant
He knows he will not save the world
The others will have to do that
He has done what he has done
And done it for a long time
It has made little difference
And what else he can do will make less-
He wants life to be pleasant-
Without disturbances and disorders
Without too many demands upon himself
Quiet
Able to do his own things
Not bothered
To sit at home when he wants
And walks when he wants
And talk with his wife when they both are at peace
Not to hear and know about all the problems even his own
To be pleasant
To be peaceful
Even if inside he knows its going wrong
Even if there is the pain
He wants it to be pleasant
For as long as it can be
Before its not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Mr Pleasant
Oh mr pleasant, how is mrs pleasant?
I hope the world is treating you right,
And your heads in the air,
And youre feeling so proud,
cause youre such a success,
And the whole wide world is on your side, hey hey.
How are you today?
People say mr pleasant is good,
Mr pleasant is kind,
Mr pleasants okay,
Mr pleasant dont mind.
As long as mr pleasants all right, hey hey.
How are you today?
Hows your father, hows your mother?
Hows your sister, hows your brother?
Hows your brand, new limousine,
Twenty-four inch tv screen?
Did you like prosperity
More than you liked poverty?
Life is easier, so much easier,
Life is easier now.
Oh mr pleasant, how is mrs pleasant?
Did you know she was flirting around
With another young man,
And hes taking her out
When you have to work late?
And its not so pleasant after all, hey hey.
How are you today?
People say mr pleasant is good,
Mr pleasant is kind,
Mr pleasants okay,
Mr pleasant dont mind.
As long as mr pleasants all right, hey hey.
How are you today?
Mr pleasant is good,
Mr pleasant is kind,
Mr pleasants okay.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Women kill men in their sport.
When love at first instant is turned down,
it is a foetus death, painless.
When it is admitted and thrown out,
it is an infantile death, painful.
When it is grown and left barren,
it is an adulthood death, much painful.
When love is built but then split,
It is a death by accident, pain unbearable.
Why does not woman understand it?
26.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
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Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Civilization is unbearable, but it is less unbearable at the top.
quote by Timothy Leary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Israel's Sixty-Fourth Memorial Day For Fallen Soldiers /There Is A Poem Of Unbearable Sadness
There is a poem of unbearable sadness
It is written by anyone who has lost a loved one-
It is a poem that lasts a lifetime
A poem of pain and longing
And regret and sorrow -
It is most unbearable
When the one who is lost is young
God bless the memory and grant eternal life
To those who have given their lives in the service of Israel.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Colony
in your world, the day is no threat
in my world, there is an absence of light
"genetic superior cell" controlled
by the fathomless and unbearable
a radical new Form of plastic and rage
biologically optimized
but with a strangling pulse
in your world, you find me worthy
in my world, I "parashoot" my life
a virtual drugstore populated
by the fathomless and unbearable
machine, meat and blood
in an intimate relationship
the new - superior -
more effective than all the preceding
when we can no longer
cry and reality is torn
then it's easy to forget
that the responsibility lies on us all
in your world, the night is no threat
in my world, the darkness
transforms to a vision of hell
populated by fathomless and unbearable
song performed by by In Flames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life or Death
Death is a mystery,
and life is Suspense.
The journey to death,
is unknown yet,
and Life is a dream stage.
Nobody has come back
From their death,
And life seems to be,
Chasing an invisible end.
Escape from death,
is impossible,
and so from Life.
Death is most painful,
Life is even more.
Death is frightful,
And Life is a puzzle.
So is life,
or Death,
better for a human fate?
poem by Pratisha Karki
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Fascination
Death fascinates;
Life can be cruel.
Death is my morbid but most-loved obsession.
Life is hard-
I am out of control.
Death is my relationship to reality-
Life is not fair.
Death is an entity of beauty, though
Life is strange…
Death is veracity, although it can be
The facet of my delusions-
I live my life while
Thoughts of death are so often invasive.
Death is mysterious, and
Life is a river refracting light-
Death is dark but intriguing.
Life is amazing.
Death in turn- is amazing as it can be.
I live my life in a dream world.
Death is indeed mysterious, although-
Life
Is
Stranger…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Plus Minus Of Death
PLUS MINUS OF DEATH
esspeecee …July,95
Am anxious
Will my final farewell
Be alike minus
Or plus?
If minus
I in my inner me
Will be
Obsessively oblivious.
If plus
I in my subtle I
Will enjoy
Being Conscious.
True taste pleasant
Of death
Come and pass
Not in rupturous haste.
O’ sweet death
You’re vivid
Like life’s faith.
Copyright reserved by the Author
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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Death
Death is a pleasant term!
Yes is normal course
Leave this world for a better world
All the experience pays
The breathing ones always talk of your deeds, but good
For them the void will never be bridged
Normal death is an ideal
In our holy Bharat
In our holy Bharat
Satan is all pervading.
His, His arms have been cut
His senses rust
Then why give him so much thrust
To bear all the brunt
Pray not for him, built not for him
Hypocrisy is all this
Pray for your actions
Pray for your work
Pray for your natural death
So pleasant in the end.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Propinquity (I've Just Begun To Care)
by Gerry Goffin & Carole King
The local rock group down the street
Is trying hard to learn their song,
They serenade the weekend squire
Who just came out to mow his lawn.
Another pleasant valley Sunday,
Charcoal burning everywhere,
Rows of houses that are all the same,
And no one seems to care.
See Mrs. Gray, she's proud today
Because her roses are in bloom,
And Mr. Green, he's so serene,
He's got a TV in every room.
Another pleasant valley Sunday,
Here in Status Symbol Land,
Mothers complain about how hard life is,
And the kids just don't understand.
Creature comfort goals, they only numb my soul,
And make it hard for me to see.
Ahhh...thoughts all seem to stray to places far away,
I need a change of scenery.
Ta ta ta ta, ta ta ta ta... (etc.)
Another pleasant valley Sunday,
Charcoal burning everywhere.
Another pleasant valley Sunday,
Here in Status Symbol Land.
Another pleasant valley Sunday,
(A pleasant valley Sunday)
Another pleasant valley Sunday,
(A pleasant valley Sunday)
(fade out)
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death - The Gift of Life
There’s nothing certain but death
Nor beyond nor before
We are born and live to die
Death the only gift of life
We fret; make noise, shout and cry
We skid from hills to valley and back
Get torn among home, work and friends
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
We fight, we scream, we spurn
We step on each others’ toe
All to achieve and amass
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Walk we straight with pride
Look we people in the eye
Seldom do we stop and stoop
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
We make friends, yet sly
Break hearts and water eyes
Too proud to bend or mend
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Each death promise another
Our last breath gives forth life
To another birth to die again
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Never can we live past in life
In death we reach the very start
From grains we come, to grains we go
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
poem by Thomas PJ New Delhi
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