Death Levels All
ah, you are a rich man
smart and famous
you have a beautiful house
an expensive car
a nice family
how envious can we be
we have nothing
we are dumb, and anonymous
we can't afford shoes
our father died during the war
mother died from shock
the rest of the siblings
cannot be found
but today i level up with you
you are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Mother Died
today my mother died
unapreciated by those she bore
at her departure they cried
for they never saw there mother before,
smiling but immobile.
today my mother died
after years of taking care of us
in retrospect we were stupid
for her love we dint reciprocate
alone we are
without a mother anymore
there never will be another like her
like my mother.
a lavish funeral
an expensive casket
an expensive proceeding
and what not
can atone not
for our ingratitude
poem by Kelvin Karani
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Another Young Soldier
Another young soldier has died far away
An army representative will call on his mother today
For to tell her your son on the course of his duty has died
He served and died for his Country with his mates at his side.
Another war mother will grieve for her son
It will not matter to her if the battle was won
And it will not matter to her if her boy died brave
She will weep every time she will visit his grave.
Another young soldier to join the war dead
A bullet from a sniper hit him in the head
On his next birthday in June he would be twenty three
His loss a heavy cross to bear for his parents and members of his family.
Another young soldier may he rest in peace
At least from further suffering he has found release
Just one more to die in another man's war
On a bombed out back street in a city afar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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No Greater Loyalty
This will be our family secret don't tell others how he died
Never mention how my darling son took his own life in suicide
Don't want them saying he opted out of life they would never understand
How our beloved teenager he died at his own hand.
Don't tell anyone we found him hanging from the low branch of a tree
Tell them 'twas of a heart attack that he died suddenly
We do not need their judgements my son must rest in peace
It was of his own choosing that from life he choose release.
Of the darkness that surrounded him we never were to know
The mother she has shed her tears for her son who died six months ago
For to save him from the judgements of the living for her dead son she will lie
She will never admit that he was one who choose his own way to die.
No greater loyalty than the loyalty of a mother when all is said and done
From the judgements of the living she lies to protect her dead son
She takes flowers twice a week to place on the grave where he does lay
And she will grieve for her deceased son till her own dying day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Unseen
something's wrong with mother always cleaning the house
and father complains for she does nothing but sweep and scrub
and dust and wipe and rub,
the floors are shiny and father does not like it
he may slide and the children too
and each may hurt the body, but mother cannot be stopped
and we complain like what father does, but mother does not
really mind, for she has become so hardheaded because father
slaps her and we make her deaf with our grumblings
until then when mother died and father cried and we felt we had all our
lives wasted, but there was one in the family who smiled
someone who thought that mother simply did what she liked best
clean the dirt, mop the floors, get all the spider's cobwebs
someone sees the beauty of mother, she's doing her chores still
but now unseen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If i Died Today
If idied today i would cry
i would cry for all the time i spent being sad
when i could have been smiling
if i died today i would weep
i would weep for all the love i never felt
when i was alive
If i died today i would be sad
sad that i never really got to feel special,
loved and cared for
If i died today it would break my heart
break my heart for all the times i have cried,
cried because i was in pain
if i died today i would be regretful
regretful for all for all the time wasted on vanity
and worrying what other people will think of me
if i died today i would forgive myself
forgive myself for being my best enemy
forgive myself for hating me so much
if i died today i would be devasted
devasted that i never really got to appreciate,
appreciate myself
if i died today i would feel lost because,
i have never really known
or found myself
if i died today i would miss me
i would miss me because i forgot all about mealong time ago
if i died to day i would cry for me.
poem by Elizabeth Jacqueline Mpanga
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Religious Family
Sisters and brothers are one of those precious members
In the family. Their role is infinite.
They shock themselves with delight.
They read signs and play with them.
Their signs are obvious,
Useful to the parents,
Forcing action of the family.
Heaven can arrive around the bend,
When the families die and their hell is dismissed by God.
Mothers shall look forward to heaven, and their husbands
Are found too in heaven, or shall I say Paradise.
“My son is big at religion, ” says the father to his child.
For this prayer to be answered, the boy must be big, an adult.
His life at the moment has laws broken, the lawful one is not him.
For he is criminal in his action, in his life and love.
He spent a time with another person, and did not get married.
He did not like this now, and not seven times a week.
He must pray and be forgiven, would say God.
God loves the boy’s father, however, and thus the boy is forgiven
For he is big at religion.
The father has his prayer answered.
Afterwards, the father cries for his child as he has lost him to the elements.
The story is such that it makes us cry, and cry and cry.
To find the mother, we must find the father and his prayer.
We find she is forced to marry someone else
But the daughter is forced to object, due to her religion.
The daughter is confused and wants to know why this happens.
The mother blames the divorce on her son who adventured and died.
The father’s prayer was answered but his wife went astray,
and his daughter was too big at religion.
The daughter shall grow and grow to be a happy woman.
Both parents died due to cancer.
It means the average family would die in the ways of religion,
And not religion die in the ways of family.
poem by Naveed Akram
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If I Died Today
if i died today
what would you say
if i died today
what would you do
would you cry
because i left you alone
or would you hate me
because we are bound by blood
if i died today
would you kill yourself
because you failed as my gaurdian
if you died today
id weep black tears
and as my soul shattered
id wish to be with you again
in our other world
but if i died today
you would try to bring me bak
even if it killed you
but in the very end you would realize
all i wanted
was for you to live
and to protect my body
so that i may once again return.
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
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The Man Died
The man died and died and died
And finally the man died!
People killed the man severally
Before the man finally died
The mans family labelled
The man dead.
The community labelled
The man dead
.
And above all the man saw in Himself a living ghost
And had since decayed and rotted inside
That not even the warmt
Of a living blood
Could've been enough
To bring the man back
To life again.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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My father was the orphaned son of immigrants to the United States from Ireland. My father never knew his parents. His mother died - we're not sure - either at or shortly after his birth, and he and all of his siblings were placed in orphanages in the Boston area.
quote by George J. Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remembering Mother
my mother was cool
like halo-halo
she was too private
and exclusive
to me. The rest about us
was always kept
as a secret.
When she died
she left me the sweetest
smile. The rest of my siblings
cried. Their faces broken.
They want to curse
and think that life is unfair
that God did not hear
their prayers.
I kept tradition. I wore my
tinted sunglasses
i shed no tears at all.
She told me God is fair.
She took pride of her love
for me. Always for me.
When her coffin was finally
laid, I smiled.
She found rest and
She is happy that I am
the only one
Who understood her.
My happy mother
I remember.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Mother's Young Daughter
In the quiet alleyway in the dim moonlight
Some mother's young daughter she died over-night
From a drug overdose friendless and alone
Found in a disused factory doorway cold and lifeless as a stone.
She was only nineteen so young for one to die
When the cold winds of Winter blew across the darkened sky
With hardly any shelter to shield her from the cold
Some are born to die young some die gray and old.
Some broken hearted mother is in tears today
For her beautiful daughter who died in such a tragic way
The baby she gave birth to who suckled from her breast
'Tis not her fault she died in this way for her she did her best.
Some mother's young daughter in a morgue today
In a disused factory doorway she died where she lay
Life for her may have been different had she not kept bad company
But easily said on hindsight how things might have been for such as she.
Some mother's young daughter is beyond all care
With the gleam of youth still in her golden hair
In a dimly lit alleyway in the cold night air
She did not return from the brink of despair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Today My Friend Died
Today my friend died,
I still cant believe my eyes.
It seems like my world has ended.
Today my friend died,
the cute face and sweet smile,
keeps flashing in front of my eyes.
Today my friend died,
my first and last best friend.
She was waiting for this day,
as she had only sorrows and troubles with her.
Today my friend died,
the friend who cared about me,
the friend who solved my problem,
the friend who always fought with life.
Today my friend died,
and I think,
I am filled with problems with no solution,
a human with no confidence,
today I am here with no hope,
I am here today without happiness.
Today my friend died,
she has stepped into my life,
as a spirit of mine.
I cannot express how important she is to me.
Today my friend died,
I recall my memories with her,
and cry....
poem by Afreen Khan
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The little girl down the lane
There was once a little
Girl, that lived down the lane
She was smart and and oh so, very pretty
Yet she had a life just filled
With pain
I never really knew her
Exact name
Never the less
The issues were so sad
Yet whose the blame?
She had no parents
Her mother died
Her father died too
She was lefted
in full charge of her
Younger siblings
Not knowing exactly
what to do
So, she prayed to God above
Asking for directions, and
Thanked him for his love
She added to the request, for
Someone, who was extremely keen
Sincerely honest
Never evil or mean
A friend or partner
To help, give a clearer view
With a heart of gold and
Knows what to do
She received an answer
To her prayer,
She became obviously happy releasing
All care
The little girl shared with us
Some of what,
She had learned
How that God is love, and
Faithfully keeps his promises
As he watches from
The heavens above
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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Today I Died Again
The human drum
Beats a rhythm of life
The clothes he wears
Date back to the war
He talks alot
Often to himself
She dont say much
Just cuts his hair
She cant remember
Before the heat
He cant remember
His wifes christian name
Paint me a picture
Towers in sand
America can fall
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Back to a year
Back to a youth
Of men in church and drug cabarets
Is this the age
Of empires and dance
Oh what a world
Oh what a world
She cant remember
Before this heat
He cant remember
His wifes christian name
Paint me a picture
Bodies in sand
Presidents can fall
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Died Today
i died today
no last goodbyes
no funeral will be held
no tears shed from your eyes
i died today
my chest filled with pain
it became unbearable
life if lived wouldnt be the same
i died today
words i could no longer speak
i could not breathe
my body was so weak
i died today
your words killed me
they broke my heart beyond repair
something you will not see
i died today
but you dont care
i was alone
you were not there
poem by Sandy Nobody
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Acidic Sea
The Acidic Sea
All those nice villas along the coast are empty safe for stray cats
and those too poor to live inlands, because the sea stinks like
bouillabaisse gone off. Marine life and sea plants have died out
too much acidity caused by industrial man, and now it is too late
to clean up the mess. Fish in tanks are guarded well and so dear
that only the very rich can afford to eat, say, bacalao; we have to
eat fishcakes that consists of ninety eight percent mashed potatoes,
the rest is cod skin. Cod liver oil is the cure all medicine, it’s very
expensive and only the well off can afford to buy it, and they,
the rich live years longer than the poor. This has raised concern
and social unrest, politicians on the left, insist the poor too has
the right to be given a teaspoon full every morning; mind there is
synthetic cod liver oil on the market, but it tastes awful. Seagulls
and terns have adopted well have earth hued feathers, sit in carob
trees, sharp eyed keep and eye for scarps of food and scare tiny
tots with their inane pirate shrieks. From safe distant, when wind
is calm, and on romantic, moonlit nights, the sea looks as beautiful
as described by marine biologists in fairytale books.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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William House and Family
Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.
They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.
It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.
Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.
The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.
The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.
His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:
Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.
As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."
"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."
It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.
But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.
Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.
Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.
Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.
They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.
For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.
Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.
poem by Julia A Moore
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How Do Prepare For The Coming Famine?
i like the way my father and mother
once lived.
they died with all serenity, and there
was this banquet we tendered, before
each passed away, as though
there is nothing to worry
they danced their days, their entrance
of course was silent, and their exits
a little serene, and then we talk as
though we understand how to live
just like them
there were droughts but father knew
how to store water in the house and
each of us had its own fill of our thirts
there were past hungers but mother
has her own skill of using the knife
in cutting each share each piece to
be nibbled by our mouths
and now, we are left here my brothers
and sisters, warned about an incoming famine
let us remember how it was with father and mother
and grandfather's father:
when life was so simple then
when there was hunger and yet none died of hunger
when there was drought and yet each of us has a glassful of water
when there was crisis, yet each had symbiosis
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lilian Stewart
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,
Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,
Reared in the mansion there on the hill,
With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.
How proud my mother was of the mansion!
How proud of father's rise in the world!
And how my father loved and watched us,
And guarded our happiness.
But I believe the house was a curse,
For father's fortune was little beside it;
And when my husband found he had married
A girl who was really poor,
He taunted me with the spires,
And called the house a fraud on the world,
A treacherous lure to young men, raising hopes
Of a dowry not to be had;
And a man while selling his vote
Should get enough from the people's betrayal
To wall the whole of his family in.
He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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A Bronte Legend
They say she was a creature of the moor,
A lover of the angels, silence bound.
She sought no friendships. She was too remote,
Her sister Charlotte found.
I know she nursed her brother till he died,
Although she didn't like him; that she had
Housework and all the ironing to do,
Because her maids were bad.
And in the midst of it she wrote a book.
There could have been small leisure for the moor
Or wandering! She used to mend and sew,
The family was so poor.
Her brother died. But she died just as soon
As she had nursed dear Charlotte through the shock
Of Patrick's death. Contemplative? Well, well!
No Simeon of the Rock!
poem by Lesbia Harford
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