Bleeding Edge (Death Poem)
Change is living every second.
For me, it is the spice of life,
Proof that I am not dead – yet,
Living on the bleeding edge today.
Changeless, death by boredom.
For some, it is the sea of tranquillity,
Proof alas, that dead can also be alive
Living, but dying by seconds daily.
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In a Disused Graveyard
The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
"The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay."
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can't help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.
poem by Robert Frost
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Push Me
Album: No Excuses
Ever since the world's been turning
It turned away from me
I've been pushed across the planet
To find my destiny
I've been running away from something
Thats deep inside myself
I've been running till that someday
When I reached the border's edge
Refrain:
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like that
Push me living on the edge
The weak play the strong out of fear of what's wrong yeah
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like that
Push me living on the edge
Im sick to death and learned the lesson
I'm still running yet I don't got
Ground beneath my feet - something is tracking me something is wrecking me
I'm still running and I don't have
Time to fall into deep
Refrain:
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like this
Push me living on the edge
Im sick to death and learned the lesson
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like that
Push me living on the edge
Im sick to death and learned the lesson
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like this
Push me living on the edge
The weak play the strong out of fear of what's wrong yeah
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like that
Push me living on the edge
Im sick to death and learned the lesson
song performed by by H-BlockX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are Alive In The Moment Of Death
We are the nocturnal nightmares of fear induced
We are fear by which hope is reduced
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game
We are as children hung from a rope
We are as children in fear of lost hope
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the silence of all that is night
We are the shadows scared of the light
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the killers of true passion in love
We are the angels of Hell’s mansion above
We are the wings upon which devils may fly
We are the fear and the tears that you cry
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the moon as we are the sun
We are the end and the story begun
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the children who beat you at school
We are the teachers that deem you a fool
We are the rotting as we are the fresh
We are alive in the moment of death.
poem by David Lacey
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Dullness
Dullness! I am your devotee
You dispel the darkness of enlightenment
You drive away the heat of excitement
I have got rid of my dreams and imagination
Even tiresome fancies seldom nestle near me
Living and half living I see both the worlds
The world of the living and the world of the dead
I see the enthusiastic marketing men rushing about
in motley robes
I see the wizened deadbodies who were once alive
and who learned the emptiness of all human efforts
for socialism capitalism feminism and became wise
through experience
By your grace I am living as a dead man among the living
What could be more enjoyable than that?
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Dead End Street
Theres a crack up in the ceiling,
And the kitchen sink is leaking.
Out of work and got no money,
A sunday joint of bread and honey.
What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No money coming in,
The rent collectors knocking, trying to get in.
We are strictly second class,
We dont understand,
(dead end!)
Why we should be on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are living on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
On a cold and frosty morning,
Wipe my eyes and stop me yawning.
And my feet are nearly frozen,
Boil the tea and put some toast on.
What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No chance to emigrate,
Im deep in debt and now its much too late.
We both want to work so hard,
We cant get the chance,
(dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
(dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Head to my feet (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Hows it feel? (yeah)
Hows it feel? (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who's Living With That Mission?
Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Wakes up to give a damn?
Who here,
Demands to give a helping hand?
And who here,
Knows that peace has a chance?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Thinks about their fellowman?
Who here,
Gives their neighbor understanding?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Thinks about what is right?
Who here,
Wants to do that day and night?
And who here,
Prays conflicts and fights
Would end!
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that,
As ambition?
To live to give as a mission?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Before the storming of the Casinga trenches
The past was going in seconds
while I was being sheltered
behind a small wall, with bullets,
mortars and rockets
whining and exploding, dark was everything,
dark was all
with death spreading its tentacles,
gripping mostly the enemy
bringing them to a fall
but for those barely out of range,
covered by trenches
the change from living to dead
were only minutes away
but the present was catching up with them,
with sniper bullets, mortars homing in
and hand grenades arcing dead on target
and the enemy trench lying straight ahead
to win the battle, the only way to tread
and the future of living or dying
was drawing down on the intersection
of the order: to take the trench.
[Reference: Full Moon At Tierz: Before The Storming Of Huesca by John Cornford.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Soil And Stone Too Are Living Things
the hair on its own
is a line of dead cells
but when it's on the head
it's part of a living spirit
the sand on its own is a
startling patch of the reality
of the non living
but put in the water, put in air
light and seeds and it
becomes a part of the living world
take away any of these the living entity
dwindles into a dead plane
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Soul On Fire
Theres a flame that leads our souls astray
No ones safe from its tender touch of pain
And every day its looking for new slaves
To celebrate the beauty of the grave
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverance
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
And again were falling for disgrace
And hate will shelter us from the rain
We are enslaved by the sacred heart of shame
And gently raped by the light of day
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
Addicted to our divine despair
(? )
But you will follow us to death
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
With a soul on
Soul on
Soul on
Fire
Soul on fire
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soul On Fire
There's a flame that leads our souls astray
No one's safe from its tender touch of pain
And every day it's looking for new slaves
To celebrate the beauty of the grave
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverance
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
And again we're falling for disgrace
And hate will shelter us from the rain
We are enslaved by the sacred heart of shame
And gently raped by the light of day
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
Addicted to our divine despair
The venom of the cross we bear
The guilt will follow us to death
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
With a soul on
Soul on
Soul on
Fire
Soul on fire
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Land Of The Living
i found myself
in another world
i found myself
alive and well
i am the vapor
i am the gas
you be the angel
of everything
this is the land of the living
this is the land of reprisal
this is the land of the living
the living
the living
i lost myself
too wide a plane
i opened up
i'm not the same
i am electric
made of wire
you be the match
i'll be the fire
this is the land of the living
this is the land of reprisal
this is the land of the living
the living
the living
the living
in myself i try for you
walk a thousand miles to get us through
airways
jet planes
safe landings
no branding
land
land
this is the land of the living
the land of reprisal
this is the land of the living
the land of survival
survival
land
land
this is the land of the living
the living
the living
the living
song performed by by Bush from Golden State
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Are No Minutes Kept Backed Up
There are no minutes kept backed up,
To put aside to decide to live them.
There are no minutes that can be stored as such,
For one to decide life is worth living.
There are no minutes kept backed up.
None one can say they have wrapped up.
There is no one on Earth with that much luck...
To decide when their life is worth the living.
People think they should be shown some proof,
That a life they live is worth the living.
While they isolate themselves locked up in coops,
To decide that a life they live is worth the living.
While awaiting for someone to approve what they do,
That a life given to them is worth the living.
With a choosing of every move...
Excusing some choices while others are removed.
To clarify that a life they live is worth the living.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Living With The Enemy
I gave you all that you wanted
and still you come back for more
You say that you're brokenhearted
but then you walk out the door
Maybe it is time for us to say goodbye
Where are the tears you never cried?
Hey baby what you got on your mind
are you looking for some sympathy?
I can tell you if it's a truth or a lie
'Cos it's just like living,
living with the enemy
You got me going in circles,
I'm slowly loosing my head
What did I do to deserve this,
you make me wish I was dead
Tell me I'm wrong and I'll be on my way
See you around another day
Hey baby what you doin' tonite?
Are you giving me the perfect dream
I'm so tired and I don't wanna fight
'Cos it's just like living,
living with the enemy, enemy
Living with the enemy, living with the enemy, enemy
Living with the enemy,enemy
Living with the enemy, living with the enemy, enemy
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death of the undertaker
Darkness prevail as the wolf in the yonder it wails,
the loss of a soul to those alive unknown,
his tools locked back in the shed no one around for tears to shed,
the big guy with his big face be fell,
there is no one to take his reins,
what he gave and what he ment no one took time to take details,
the grounds he ones strolled and to some it seemed his home,
there emptiness will be known to all living and dead souls,
death of the undertaker whose gonna set his tombstone,
the mood seems dull the moon is shy to the sun,
the loss of this big man who never sired a son,
he never had time to have life he lived his life for those who lost theirs,
the grave aint dug the ground still untouched,
it takes his loss of breathe for us to learn,
the death of the undertaker whose gonna set his tombstone,
all that knew him more are six feet under,
all the living beings stand on ground and just wonder,
it takes a strong man alot of love and honour,
to be like this one who is dead and put asunder,
the living will get to know the dead man was important to us all,
for its death of the undertaker whose gonna put up his tomb stone,
poem by Kennedy Musyoka
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Some Life’s Paradoxes
The dead can’t care about living;
The living must pray for their dead;
Though dead took care of living then,
The living can’t take care of dead!
The elderly cared for all young;
The young must care for aged when old;
The love that parents had shown then,
Can’t be repaid ever by young!
The fruits I enjoy now when young,
Are from the trees planted by aged;
The things I do to others now
Will be returned to me when old!
The measure I use for others
Will be used unto me by God;
The judgments I pronounce on next,
Will decide my after-life’s rod!
Let’s do our duty with great love;
Reward will come from heav’n above.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 20-11-2010
poem by John Celes
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Are We Doing All God Needs?
Are you an influence for The Lord, as you live your daily life?
Or is your witness just ignored, caught up in your daily strife?
We’re to impact the lives men, which we bump into every day,
Now that we are Born Again, to show others God’s Only Way.
Do you live with Christ in mind, called to be for God His light?
When someone may be unkind, treating you in ways not right?
Jesus showed us how to live, and a love that we should show,
And Grace to us He would give, to help others come to know.
Do men see the Light of God, if you walk into a darker place?
In this darkened world you trod, led by the light of His Grace?
For God’s Light we are to be, lifted high by Christ, upon a hill,
Placed where all men can see, and done according to His will.
As you live life in this world, do you point men to God’s Truth?
Is your life for Him a Herald, with your own life as living proof?
It’s God’s Truth we’re to proclaim, to all people of every nation,
In the power of Christ’s name, pointing men to God’s Salvation.
Are we being, as Christ’s bride, the people whom God bought?
Living our lives truly crucified, to walk what we’ve been taught?
Are we doing all that God needs, willing today to pay the price?
Living this life sowing seeds, so others come to faith in Christ?
(Copyright ©02/2008)
Lucid Dreams
A ricochet of thoughts
running through my head
in these lucid dreams
I've always Had
Thoughts of the living
Thoughts of the dead
all merge together
leaving me not knowing
who is alive
and who is dead
When I wake up
the thoughts come flooding back
as I see the bruises
where they grabbed me and said
don't go back
Only then do I know
who is living
and who is dead
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Dead Or Alive
There in the shadows, looks like a hand
Without its owner, to give it a command
Its got a purpose but I dont know what it is
Im in trouble
There in the streets, looks like a man
But something wrong that I dont understand
His eyes are open but he dont see a thing
His skin is peeling off, his bones are sticking out
Im getting scared
Oh my God (is it dead? )
Is it living? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
(is it dead? ), is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
Hiding in the cupboards, like little mice
Hiding in the frigerator, that isnt nice
Its not an animal, it dont have legs
No one else can see it
It moves so fast, corner of my eye
Look again its gone, its hiding
Wont somebody help me, doesnt anybody care?
It waits so patiently, for me to lose my guard
Im getting scared
Is it dead, is it
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead or alive
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead, is it
I remember there was a time
When dead and buried meant just that
Underneath the cold dark ground
Things stay put!
Oh them bones they make them bodies walk
Them bones, them bones
If they could only talk!
Is it dead (fade)
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just War?
The dead calls unto the living;
And living unto the dead
I stood still to watch my friends dying;
‘Just war? ' no one thought or said
I lived among the heathen
Desperate they end the long fighting;
And for the government's little misunderstanding,
War calls unto the living
Have I not starved yet so long?
Have I not sat in wait so long?
Again so long can me no longer
No longer can I watch my life fall asunder?
Aren't there wise men anymore?
Are there no negotiations anymore?
What so great has caused this catastrophe?
Just war?
poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo
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O Living Always--Always Dying
O LIVING always--always dying!
O the burials of me, past and present!
O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever!
O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not--I am content;)
O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look
at, where I cast them!
To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind!
poem by Walt Whitman
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