Someone who is about to die does not mourn the dead.
quote by Friedrich Durrenmatt
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't mourn the dead. I mourn the living.
quote by Stephen Evans
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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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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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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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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Wake
Tell all my mourners
To mourn in red --
Cause there ain't no sense
In my bein' dead.
poem by Langston Hughes
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All Dead, All Dead
Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Butterfly
Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too, And the daft sun-assaulter, he That frightened thee so oft, is fled or dead: Save only me (Nor is it sad to thee!) Save only me There is none left to mourn thee in the fields.
poem by Robert Frost
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An Epitaph 3 (From The Greek)
Painter, this likeness is too strong,
And we shall mourn the dead too long.
poem by William Cowper
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The Death of a Raven
As I was taking a tour today
I saw a raven lying dead by the side of a bank
He lay there lone, cold, dead
Nobody to bury, cremate, or carry him away
I felt sad
I felt life is so sudden, so short
A couple of ravens kept circling the dead
They tried to tell me something of the raven dead
But I couldn't understand them
Because I don't know as how to interpret the language of the raven
The raven lay dead by the pavement of the bank
He lay sideways
His feet up
His dead beak closed and dead
I felt a sudden rush of hopelessness, a sudden rush of undefined pain
I didn't stop there to mourn the raven's death
I ran away as fast my legs would pace
The raven is dead
Everything around him goes as usual
Life is a continuous process
Time, tide, space flows on their own pace
Nobody notices the death of the raven
Except me
My soul saddens by the death of the unknown raven
The sky is dark and cloudy
It threatens rain
A few drops dropp here and there to make the scorched ground a little
wet
I cry for the dead raven
Please spare a pray for the dead raven
poem by Ujjol Kamal
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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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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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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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Loveless
Hell hath no fury
Like a woman scorned
My love for you is dead
But I have no need to mourn
We're just going through the motions,
We both know there's nothing left.
poem by Denice Robinson
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Do not think too much of the dead husk of your friend, or mourn too much over it, but send your thoughts out towards the real soul or self which has escaped - to reach it.
quote by Edward Carpenter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Sleeping
it is alright really to sleep for a while
for a day, or even for the whole week,
if that is what you really want.
do you really like to take the much needed sleep?
just asking you from the bottom of my heart.
you may. you must if you really need it.
you must if you really feel like doing it.
you may finally decide to die.
it is your life. you wear the desired shoes.
you take the color that you intend.
it too, shall be your chosen death.
we may mourn, but you know that we too have our own concerns.
we cannot mourn for that long.
we have our journeys too.
our own battles, and when you lay there, a dead man on the street
as we rush, we may forget to bury you.
it is time that you too must learn to bury yourself.
it goes naturally, as a consequence of your learning how to die.
as others still fight to get their last breath
you take the plunge.
into that darkness, into that emptiness.
meanwhile, this saturday, we are set to go on a picnic.
under the blue clouds, we may talk about you.
i am not sure really. perhaps. maybe.
do not blame us. we have chosen life.
we also know how to forgive and then forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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