Experimentations Of The Cat Who Has Nine Lives
the cat who had nine lives
experimented on
different
death styles, and now that
it has only one life to live
it gets into too much caution
the last one
must be memorable and
deserving of its
last breath.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Till the Last Heart Beat
The common sense of love in the life totally
If it it should be named
Its the ' love of the life'
No one chooses the death
Even if its their the last breath
Even the people who have a dark look to the life
How its admiring that they choose to live till their last heart beat
That's why if everyone of us
Try to live every second of our lives
If we try to live our lives.
As its the last second
As its the last breath
As its last heart beat
We will understand the value of just being alive what does mean.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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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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Life Or Death?
Every day we live, we always face death
We get closer to it, every time we take a breath
Life is special but death brings peace
Life brings reality and things you believe
Death is hard for everyone around
Death is quiet, no more bad sounds
Life is also hard, all the things we go through
Life can never be easy, no matter what you do
Death is sad, for those who cry
Death is meaningful, for those who die
Life is a work of art, it's nice to look
Life is full of teachings, like an open book
Death is the new life, might as well be dead
Death is a lot more, for what's up ahead
Life brings new things, always something new
Life brings surprises, something out the blue
Death is scary, nothing we want to see
Death is negative, a place we don't want to be
Life is full of love, with the ones close to you
Life is full of money, for those who sue
Death is empty, nothing compared to this
Death is a lot of things, too long of a list
But life is everything; don't wait till there's nothing left
Death can wait, so don't waste your last breath
So just pick your choice, which one? Life or death?
poem by Triauna Hall
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Wake Up And Live
Wake up and live
Wake up and live your life see what there is to see
I won't sit around all day cause life means more to me
wake up and live
so many kids content to sleep their lives away
but I'm gona try to make themost out of this day
wake up and live
it takes some motivation It takes some love for life
why just sit complacent and let life pass you by
boredom is a choice I choose not to make
unlock that door, strive for more
there's a better path to take
WAKE UP AND LIVEbreath every breath
WAKE UP AND LIVE until my death
WAKE UP AND LIVE so much to do
WAKE UP AND LIVE all of you
c'mon, open your eyes
song performed by by Youth Of Today
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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The Kiss of Death
I
There she lay
Her soul astray
Her cruel lips
Where my soul slips
Into the taste of death
To find her breath
The breath of pain,
Where souls are slain
Death does not kill pain!
It lives in the one who suffer from it.
II
Death is the ultimate symbol of life
Its deadly kiss pierces harder
Than the plunge of a sharpen knife….
Death comes to us all
We know not when
Or where death will call
So our souls
Slowly slip
Into death's kiss
On her lip
Where we slowly sip
Death's dead breath
The kiss of Death
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Scared to Death
I feel my heart beat as I lie there and breath every breath in.I feel as if im scared to death and nothing there to support me as i fall.I dream dreams that could not have an explination to them.I wake up breathing as hard as before as my feet touch the floor, I am scared to death.I love my life but there comes a time when you just have to admit everything that is wrong.As I breath so calmly and smooth just then i find out the truth.Im scared to death.I walk around with a smile and realize this life has so many 'un-discovered' facts and as we learn the facts i see that the worlds going to waist.Im scared to death.I look around wondering if anyone else knows or feels my pain, only because im scared to death.I wish i could tell someone I wish they would know, so i dont feel as if im in the world alone.Im scared to death.I wonder how i live this life with all the secrets i hold my behind my breath just to realize im scared to death!
poem by Melissa Ramey
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My Take on the Capital
Uplifting sound of street laughter
The unseen styles
Un-experimented colour schemes
High risen sights
Evolving culture
Sushi at hand on every corner
Skating within the crowds
Necessity of the tube
My capital simply.....
Alive.
poem by Nia Williams
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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.
Yes, this death is death indeed
A death of pain and an unheard plead.
However death is not death-
Only life without breath.
poem by Brad Lomeli
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Charismatic Personalities Transcend Styles
there is a trendy style
trend seekers follow styles
slaves to fashion styles
style is the moves of the moment
the status looks feel of the moment
style is sold trend setter moments
three choices define criteria styles
follow trend current styles be styles
be out of style or transcend styles
unique charismatic personalities transcend styles
transcend fashion defined now hype popularities
star quality self shines in spaces of hyper realities
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A thankyou to Margaret
Some thankyous are best private;
some deserve a public airing,
in case they touch someone else who's suffered:
I wrote a poem about my mother's restless, painful death;
and you, who had just lost your husband
but whose deathbed was a memorable day
as he with cancer and you his wife
had the most beautiful, memorable hours of conversation,
about two rich lives lived together -
you, struck by the contrast, wrote to me
in sympathy. And so, my pain is eased
in sharing in your beautiful sad joy..
and you, I hope, may be the happier for this -
I wonder, do you know what good this brought?
thank you, Margaret.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A ghazal (Many a secret it hides...)
Many a secret it hides, life's like that
In nobody it confides, life's like that
Often it makes mortals cry, sometimes laugh,
Like the ebb and flow of tides, life's like that
It arrives in joy along with newborns,
It leaves with death at bedsides, life's like that
It lets us chose our path even when wrong
But later, it badly chides, life's like that
Throwing all caution to the winds often
The steed of desire rides, life's like that
Mortals live from birth to death on this earth
How, when and where, it decides, life's like that
Stories it tells in episodes ‘Mona"
Its sweet time it always bides, life's like that
poem by Elizabeth Kurian 'Mona'
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Embarrassed And Battered
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Some people bring home their tempers to leave.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
While others show their hearts hanging on their sleeves.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Dragging on their backs every burden to keep.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Bringing on their moodiness when they turn the key.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Keeping everybody up so they can't sleep.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Some people bring home their tempers to leave.
Bringing on their moodiness when they turn the key.
Dragging on their backs every burden to keep.
While others show their hearts hanging on their sleeves.
Keeping everybody up so they can't sleep.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One
[Track 13...9mins, 52sec.]
I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
Deep down inside I feel the scream
This terrible silence stops me
Now that the war is through with me
I'm waking up, I can not see
That there's not much left of me
Nothing's real but pain now
Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please God, wake me
Back in the womb it's much too real
In pumps life that I must feel
But can't look forward to reveal
Look to the time when I'll live
Fed through the tube that sticks in me
Just like a wartime novelty
Tied to machines that make me be
Cut this life off from me
Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please God, wake me
Now the world is gone I'm just one
Oh please help me
Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please God, help me
Darkness
Imprisoning me
All that I see
Absolute horror
I cannot live
I cannot die
Trapped in myself
Body my holding cell
(Get 'em up! Get 'em up!)
Landmine
Has taken my sight
Taken my speech
Taken my hearing
Taken my arms
Taken my legs
Taken my soul
Left me with a life in Hell
song performed by by Korn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Behold His Glory
Behold the Glory of The Lord; let not His presence go ignored,
And you will have the peace of Christ, as you live this busy life.
Let not your many busy days, hinder your God honoring praise,
Praise well deserving to the One, who gave to us His Only Son.
For only God is deserving of, endless praise to show our love,
As the more we behold of Him, the more He changes us within.
Changes within us to display, His character throughout our day,
Reflecting in our life His Son, as a witness for Him to everyone,
When God we continue to behold, blessings continue to unfold,
Filling us with peace by Grace, to guide us daily place to place.
Reflecting on just who God is, impacts the way a believer lives,
Knowing what He wants from us, when in God, we put our trust.
God wants a life devoted to, His Son, who died for me and you,
And all we need to live this life, is faith and trust in Jesus Christ.
Even through one’s frenzied life, seeing sorrow and some strife,
He will help us more than cope, as we behold the Blessed Hope.
So this day behold The King, the Lord and Master of everything,
Fixing your eyes upon The Lamb, who is for us the Great “I AM”.
Let Christ overwhelm our ways, as He sees us through our days,
Then that presence of The Lord, by others, shall not go ignored.
(Copyright ©01/2008)
Morning Innocence
Morning Innocence
We’re all born with it
As children, its what we live on
Screw death and destruction
Its only life and love that
we want to know about
For that’s all we should know
Contemplations of death and destruction
Is just a waste of our breath
and a waste of our tears
Yet some may still wonder
'What is `Morning Innocence`? '
It’s the knowledge of knowing nothing
As children or as we wake up
Death, pain, and hatred are never
the first thing on our minds
This is Morning Innocence
Be it the beginning of our lives
or the beginning of our day
We know nothing...
Yet time passes we lose this
Morning Innocence
Even if it’s hours or years
We start to realize
All the death, pain, and destruction
That shall one day consume our lives
However, to the end of our day(s)
as a reflection of our souls
We accept it as it comes along
We’re brilliant...
We know everything there is to know
We know what is soon to come
Because this Morning Innocence
is no longer a factor in our lives
No more knowledge...
We’ve been exposed to it all
and yet we’re still being exposed
There’s ten million ways to die
and the number keeps growing
and now - we no longer have
our Morning Innocence
to protect us.
poem by Joseph Anthony Montefusco
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Veil of Death
Death for believers is but a veil, for through Christ we will prevail,
For we may die upon this earth, but live the promise of new birth.
After this life and much travail, we slip through a mysterious veil,
Into the presence of God’s Throne, through no efforts of our own.
For a brief moment we may sleep, but as we awake we will reap,
Reap from God an Eternal Life, and all due to the work of Christ.
When we sleep in Christ we wake; because He died for our sake.
Though Christ died now He lives, and Eternal Life to us He gives.
Death although it may come, has been swallowed up by The Son,
Through His victory on the cross, where Christ died for all the lost.
Now not only have we been found, but in Him new life will abound,
A life that starts upon this earth, when we experience a New Birth.
Life may begin here my friend, but a new life in Christ has no end,
As we enter what seems as death, we breathe in Heaven’s breath.
We’ll leave behind all that’s frail, as we briefly slip through the veil,
As we enter into God’s Paradise, to live forever with Jesus Christ.
We’ll leave the bodies that have died, and get new bodies glorified,
We will live an eternity with Him, in God’s Paradise that has no sin,
This could be the reason why; precious is the death, in God’s eyes,
Of all the saints He calls His own, as they enter their Eternal Home.
(Copyright ©05/2006)
Stanzas Subjoined To The Yearly Bill Of Mortality Of The Parish Of All-Saints, Northampton. Anno Domini 1793
He lives who lives to God alone,
And all are dead beside;
For other source than God is none
Whence life can be supplied.
To live to God is to requite
His love as best we may;
To make his precepts our delight,
His promises our stay.
But lite, within a narrow ring
Of giddy joys comprised,
Is falsely named, and no such thing,
But rather death disguised.
Can life in them deserve the name,
Who only live to prove
For what poor toys they can disclaim
An endless life above?
Who, much diseased, yet nothing feel;
Much menaced, nothing dread;
Have wounds which only God can heal,
Yet never ask his aid?
Who deem his house a useless place,
Faith, want of common sense;
And ardour in the Christian race,
A hypocrite's pretence?
Who trample order; and the day
Which God asserts his own
Dishonour with unhallowed play,
And worship chance alone?
If scorn of God's commands, impressed
On word and deed, imply
The better part of man unblessed
With life that cannot die;
Such want it, and that want, uncured
Till man resigns his breath,
Speaks him a criminal, assured
Of everlasting death.
Sad period to a pleasant course!
Yet so will God repay
Sabbaths profaned without remorse
And mercy cast away.
poem by William Cowper
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Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls
It is a matter of life and death.
We sense our mortality in the destiny of another.
This isn't easy for us to confront.
We seek ignorance of such final thoughts.
Only those who have been made aware,
Can truly face death.
We look at its empty eyes and see nothing.
At first, we are afraid.
This is our human existence at stake.
If we were merely mortals, then this would be normal.
However, humans are not merely mortals.
Every single word within us cries out against the waste.
I am unique. So are you.
There is an expression,
'We will never see his like again.'
Even so, Easter has taught us
That God preserves the life force beyond death.
It is the hope of resurrection
That sustains us in this life.
Those that have this faith in God,
Believe in the past, the present AND the future
And we therefore spend our lives
In prayer and good works.
No matter where we are,
While there is a single thought left within us,
We can still pray.
This is life.
Not the striving for more and more things,
While others starve to death.
Let's be more sympathetic
In regard to complete strangers,
Men, women and children
Facing terrifying squalor, disease and persecution.
It's easy to feel sorry
For the good old Georges of this world,
Because they are the good ones we don't want to lose.
But what about the tiny babies
Who haven't the strength to lift a finger
To do any good works?
They are more deserving if left to live a full life
Than the ones who have already lived for decades...
Many of these have never seen a shoe...
And they don't even know that each one of them
Has an eternal soul...
poem by Denis Martindale
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