My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts
Life seemed to come
To a still
Everything around me
Is like death
It is difficult moving
And going back is Impossible
These are my days in the bush
Of ghosts
Why do we have
To live in fear
When death is
Inevitable
The fear for failure
Took away my
Pride and I must
Do anything to
Achieve height
Many a time I dream
And find myself in
The bush of ghosts
With my loved ones,
Hands outstretched
For a warm welcome
Of my embrace
But then I awoke,
And finds my life is
Just an illusion of
My years past.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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My Life in the bush of Ghosts (reprise)
Down the bush path
I came running down my hut
I have a pot of food
But what do I do with food
When I have no appetite
And why does life seem
To leave me so soon
.
After a few decades in life
I find my soul roaming
Aimlessly in the bush
Of ghosts, when I wasn't
Really dead.
I never believed in ghosts
Until I saw a ghost
And now, I am to be host
To a host of ghosts
In the bush of ghosts
Which I, myself have not
Come to understand
.
Things do change with time
,
I have worked very hard
To be among those who feel life
But yet, life seem to be
Very far away from me
I have said to myself
When I see life, I will grab life
With both hands
But I will not steal another
Mans life to have life
I will not bring sadness
To another to have life
I will not deceive another man
To have life
I will not seek life through the back door
For what do I gain if I
Bring sorrow to others
To gain life for my self
And what do i do with life
If life I seek to find
Will not stay with me.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Life is but a lesson...
At birth I was ripped from my warm safe place,
Yet now I fear death so I flee it with haste.
As a babe in my youth I yearned for more years,
But as time's passed me by it's age I now fear...
Into this world I was born and life gave me breath,
Now each path that I choose always leads to my death.
For both death and life are old inseperable friends,
My life's but a lesson just a means to an end...
If I live life to the fullest will time pass me by?
If I start asking questions will I ever know why?
Wisdom is gibberish and gibberish is clear,
What I most wanted once is now what I most fear...
When I want most to live will it be time to die?
I dont want life to end! Will that be my last cry?
I think death must be life and to leave is to stay,
So I pray hell is heaven when my life slips away...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Death
Death is bad
No one wants to die
But death doesn't know
How to kill
Yet death is inevitable
But I dont fear death
If I live the right life,
Then I will not be
Afraid to die
My legacy will live
After me for a hundred years.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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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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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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Fear And Death
Fear could be the starter of death
Death envokes fear
Both team up to destroy dreams and lives
As life goes on death and fear multiplies
Never fear death or it may control you
Death uses your fears to quicken the pace
Death still surrounds you as your fear as well
poem by Runni McDaniel
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Death, My Dear Old Friend
Can you tell me
what it feels like,
to be afraid of death?
I do not know
what it's like
to fear death.
Death,
I am not scared.
Why should I be?
I am nothing
If I die
Nothing would change
NO tears would be shed
No one would care
No one would notice
So why should I fear death?
Others don't value my life
And I certainly don't
People think I'm happy!
They believe this mask I wear!
They believe all my bullsh*t!
I have no fear
Death is my friend!
And I welcome him with open arms!
So can you tell me
What is fear?
What is death?
Why should I fear death?
Why should I care?
Am I even important?
poem by David Zhukov
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To They Who Are Hauted By The Spectre Of Death
Do not fear death because death is not to be feared.Death is the bride of every household therefore welcome her with open arms.Death is inevitable therefore do not deny yourself the pleasure of having a nice time while you're still alive.Death is a stage through which all of us must pass.Death is necessary and this old life would be very boring if we would all live forever.Accept the inevitability of death and die gratefully with less worry lines on your death mask, There are no worries in the other world and over there they offer you virgins to pamper you to compensate for your undeserved suffering in this world.Therefore be willing to die young and have a good looking corpse
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Life and Death, How Ironic
Life, it described my Mother
Life, she was the image
Life, she was healthy
Life, she loved every day
Life, you saw it in her eyes
Life, you heard it in her voice
Life, how ironic it could be
Death, the impossible
Death, too somber a thought for her
Death, she would live a long, long time before it would confront her
Death, sickness maybe, but there is always a cure
Death, not even a thought in the doctor’s mind
Death, it now replaced life
Life and death, my mother passed away with a look of peace on her face
She died knowing that she lived every moment to the fullest.
poem by Janice Karp
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And Forever
Forever is impossible to live
Forever is possible when
Death is reached but which life
Forever is no fear of
Death,
Forever is eternity no death
The only cure of old age
Forever is never possible only in death
But forever without death
Is null and void who ever new bff is so sort
The only forever, forever is a simple
Hour glass that’s your life line out of
Time you realize before your time
There no forever the sands of time tell
The truth there is only one
Forever after death heaven the sand of time
Are full and there is forever
poem by Marcellus Watts
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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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Breath Of Death
Death is not death,
It is life without breath,
Life on earth is life that is blind,
Blinded by stress and the curse of time,
True life is life that remains untied,
Pure life is life that has honor and pride,
The cold breathe of death actually guilds,
It guilds to a place where darkness subsides,
Passed the shadow a secluded warmth is seen,
Benevolence and compassion becomes pristine,
The Floor is cover with clouds of gold,
An eternal joy that never grows old,
They wait for you to come alive,
Trumpets waiting for you to arrive,
Sitting there is the humble Lord,
Guarding the gates with his shield and sword,
All your loved ones and all you've known,
How can this love even be shown,
Reach out your heart and give him your hand,
There is nothing to fear so please understand,
He knows you believe but now you must try,
You must understand that to live you must die,
Yes, this death is death indeed,
A death of pain and an unheard plead.,
However this death is truly not death,
Only new life that lives without breath.
poem by Bradley Lomeli
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Twenty Years In Algarve
Twenty years in Algarve (biography)
I have lived in the upper Algarve for twenty years. I have been hiding away
from life all those years, I know every bush tree, every bend in the road,
seen, seasons coming and go, trapped in my own alcoholic mind, unable to
be free from this slavery that only makes me feel at ease when the bottles
have been emptied and sleep brings in a new day. Then working through
the day, blind never taking the time to befriend anyone, relax; for my quest
is the night when I can open a bottle of wine and dream the loser’s reverie
and see myself if I could be free of the pasts ghosts. My childhood is my
nightmare, only wine, for a while, stills my fear; those disgusting people
who abused a child. Shall I ever be able to break the chain of fear, feel
equal to fellow man? Alcoholism is a burden, a struggle I’m losing as I sink
into old age misery.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fear
Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
Fear of psychological profiles.
Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
Fear of my children's handwriting on envelopes.
Fear they'll die before I do, and I'll feel guilty.
Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
Fear of confusion.
Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.
Fear of waking up to find you gone.
Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
Fear of death.
Fear of living too long.
Fear of death.
I've said that.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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Being Dead
They came to her to tell her that she was dead-
passed away in her sleep.
But, ' she retorted, this must be a dream
and cannot be so-
I'm not dead-perhaps still asleep.'
'No', they said, 'dead and nothing to be done;
acceptance not denial is what is requiews here.'
She felt her arms and said 'See I am alive, still here.'
'Illusion.' they said The dead always try to keep the illusion of life
because that is all they know
life is gone from you now, the book is closed.
'This is absurd; ' she said 'let me out of here.
I am alive, not dead and gone'
'There is nothing to stop you leaving they said, ' he said 'you can always leave life you understand is but a tree with death as it final branch.
She got up and walked to what looked like a door paused opening it gingerly blinded by a briight white, so she shut it again turning to face again to her interlocutors.
'What is going on where am I? ' she said.
They ignored her whispering among themselves finally facing her, one of them saying;
'We can give special dispensation and perhaps...'
She interrupted him, 'Special dispensation, what is that? '
'Well' he said 'you can go, leave here if you like, but only for three days and if…'
If, if what.' she said.
'in those two days you can walk among the living but they will not be able to see or hear you
and if you can some how communicate with them,
make your self feel alive to them
and they want you to come back,
then you can perhaps go back, go back among the living,
That will be permanent until you die again,
understanding, of course, that in time
we all die.'
Convince them? How can I do that if they cannot hear or see me?
'Well you can go among them, ' one of them explained
'and even though they will not be able to hear or see you,
your spirit will be present and that will be the trigger among them
signaling their desire for your return,
then that might make your return possible.'
'Not see or hear me, ' she said 'but how then will I be able to convince them I am alive? This makes no sense.'
'Oh yes it does. You have to get them to conjure you in their memory, wish you were still alive, remember you fondly,
wish you were still with them after all this time.'
'All this time? ', she said.
How long have I been dead? '
'Well now they said 'it has been over five years now.'
'Five years! ' she said incredulously.
'Yes five years.' he said.
'I know people forget, even loved ones can forget
you after five years, and they go on with their lives.'
'Yes, our point exactly, ' he said, 'then you are not only dead but not remembered, and being not remembered is true death'
Do you want to go, go back
understanding that if you fail,
your death will then be death true final test? '
She paused thinking how hurtful it would be
if she could not get anyone to conjure her memory..
'What happens' she said 'if I succeed and some one remembers me and wants me back? '
'That is the point someone can remember you yourself may not want to come back. That part is important.'
'And, ' he said 'you may not want to go back. If you do go back there might be loved ones who have moved on with their lives.'
.
'What about my husband, has he moved on? ' she said?
They did not answer.
'We can tell you nothing. These things you will have to find out for yourself.
Some, ' he said 'find out and want to come back here. Each is different-take your time.
She stood thinking about what to do.
To be continued
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Fear Of Fear
Fear is not what I am afraid of.
True, it is a frightful thing to fear;
But the fear of fearing fear is overwhelming
Especially when its form becomes sheer
Fear is like losing a tree of shade on a bristling day
Or losing your breath when you fall below the sea;
I fear this fear of fearing these fears
And it is this fear that is part and parcel of me.
Fear is like loving without being loved back,
Fear is like leaving without being left;
And the fear of loving and leaving and being loved and being left
Is opposed by the fear of not fearing anything
And being an empty vase, noisy and bereft
I fear not death nor do I fear life,
But I fear the fear of both as my peers;
If I could release one fear from my fears
It would be the fear of fearing these fears.
poem by Samah Khan
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Anchored Briefly
While melting-down he was going to cheat
the death. So be it, bribing the inevitable.
In search of me, you and self, life was
coming to an end. Standing on sharp edge
he wanted to go back to beginning of era,
to try again his fear against coarse future,
to be versed in or not to cease, to yield
to the butchering-ground for salvation.
He did not want to pick up the droppings
now with butterfingers. Let there be a revolt
against the buyers of wallets. Gods have
left the caves and crowds are thinned out.
Prayerwheels are broken. Sky was overcast.
The morality heaves out of bush and steps
up to find a new crisis.
poem by Satish Verma
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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
Death death
Death death death
Death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death
Death death death
Death death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Fears of a teenage mafioso
Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,
So let me think,
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
poem by David daveres
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1983
The real struggle started in 1983,
And i know what i have been through so far;
Because life is not very smooth always.
Fear and anger,
Love and war!
And of the death-toll in the human race to ponder over,
But life is all about peace than war.
Humanised by the military forces,
And of my years in the bush;
But now i am back home to my roots,
And this struggle started in 1983.
Life was like the creative powers of the problems at hand,
But your love has no hiding place when it is time for war!
And like the mysterious murders around me.
I am trying to get to you,
But the wind of change had taken me so long! !
And there is no retrospect on this muse,
But i live to write out my mind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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