The root cause of insanity
the root cause of insanity, i begin to sift it
from you and her and the last one to say he suffers
from the meaninglessness of his indescribable quest for the
justification of existence after two suicide attempts
i look at the mirror of their eyes and i think, i must not be be mistaken,
it is this self-centered being
this inability to see the other as the most important other
this selfishness that like termites keep on
eating the fiber
until everything becomes nothing but a hollow
space of bad air
there is a need to see how a flower opens its petals to meet the rays of
the morning sun and say
hello.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Push Me...
Slow attempts of suicide
Cuts go deeper each time
More pills down my throat,
You push me.
Wanna see how far I'll go?
Slow attempts of suicide
Driving me to my limits,
The insanity of my mind breaking
reality, pushing me a little more...
Soon you will see how far you
FUCKING PUSHED ME!
poem by Courtney Rodda
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Responsibilitys
when i open like the petals
of a flower
you are the sun to
receive me
i do not burn in your heat
for it is as gentle as
the morning rays
of the lovely beginning
when you close your house
and hide in the orange
tinge of your bedroom
i exude a certain scent
so enticing
so you may sleep with some
dreams
and i shall be there
with you
you have become a
beautiful face
and i am the flower in your
hair
whatever, i am responsible
for this art
of loving
whatever, wherever,
whenever, we shall meet again
when you
become a fruit
i, may even assume to be
the last worm.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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They Cannot Harm Anymore
mother was writing her lesson plan
and i was watching her
beside a lamp, that was then when
there was no electricity yet available in the barrio
the sound of the cicadas were loud and the
lizards keep eating the moth on the ceiling
i touched a wall eaten with termites and asked mother
if termites could do us harm or the wood
finally giving in to the hollowness of their skin
all substances she said have their terminals
wood surrender to the greed of termites
and termites build their own empires under the earth
so she said do not complain if this house
that we live in soon fall to the ground and be nothing
but flanks of rotten memories
the law of nature is there
we are all temporary
nothing lasts forever
those that eat and those that are eaten
are but part of their
paths to destiny.
fate cannot harm, they serve the law
and everything has a purpose unique on its own.
i look upon my blank sheet of paper
and then i begin to write again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Suicide.
Suicide, suicide
Your presence is near
Suicide, suicide
I wish you were here
Suicide, suicide
Take me away
Suicide, suicide
Please make it today
Suicide, suicide
An answer, for me
Suicide, suicide
I need to escape, be free
Suicide, suicide
I’ve had too much
Suicide, suicide
Take me, do your touch
Suicide, suicide
Leave the rest behind
Suicide, suicide
You’re all over my mind
Suicide, suicide
Let me pass in peace
Suicide, suicide
I need to release
poem by Lisa French
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Loneliness
Have you seen
How loneliness
Gnaws at you
Like termites
In a wooden
Body…
You are
Not an
Old piece
Of furniture
That can be
Replaced -
With a body
New.
So,
Helplessly
Hopelessly
You let the
Termites…
Chew into you.
On second thoughts
Even if you had -
A body refreshed
And new, wouldn't
Those termites…
Still find you?
After all,
As long as
You live,
Loneliness
Lives with you.
It's only those
In between
Fillers of
*Joyous*
Excitement
That come
Visiting you,
But they soon
Bid you adieu.
Loneliness
Stays.
It's your
Lifelong
Enemy.
It whips you
Haunts you…
Threatens you
Bullies you.
You try
Scaring it away.
It never
Leaves you.
It thrives
Within you
Like a termites'
Colony and keeps
Eating into you…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Suicide, suicide
Suicide, suicide
Come and save me
Suicide, suicide
Come and take me
Suicide, suicide
Where are you hiding
Suicide, suicide
Please let it be now
Suicide, suicide
Give me and answer
Suicide, suicide
Release me, i beg of you
Suicide, suicide
I can't take no more
Suicide, suicide
Free me, please touch me
Suicide, suicide
Help me end this
Suicide, suicide
It's only you in my mind
Suicide, suicide
Take me silently
Suicide, suicide
I need it now more than ever
poem by Sumiya Khan
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Her Bliss
Death is in the flower's heart –
Why to cry for life of any petal?
Death in purple ink of weary pens
Betrays the written yearnings
On her scented paper.
Death is laughing in her cry;
Her broken heart forlorn upon the sleeve.
Death ignores the plight of any purity –
He doesn’t care or seem to be aware of
What her dewy eye desires,
For Death beckoned:
'Embrace the jar! '
And yes, she did –
For Death, of course.
After all, no other man would
Open up her hand and bid her with a kiss,
So Death became her bliss.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Rays Of Hope
RAYS OF HOPE
Hole of the cell brings the hope of rays,
These rays are sun-rays
Which dance in the cell of prison from morning to evening?
In morning when sun-rays touch my forehead
They recall the blessings of my mother and father.
In evening when sun-rays lit up the wall of the cell
They tell me that miseries are not universal,
They end as night ends in the morning.
Sun-rays also memorizes the morning of my village and sun set on the hill near the village.
These rays also vitalize me and create patient in me so I can bear the difficulties of the prison.
Now I am hopeful that in near future I will come out from the prison and meet my beloved people.
Because they are waiting for me as I am waiting for the sun-rays of the morning.
(From the diary of a prisoner)
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Mirrowindom
Mirror Mirror Behind my wall
Who will catch me when I fall?
There will be no one to lend me a hand
I'll be Grey, Black and Blue when I land.
Mirror Mirror Can you see?
The sadness and Loneliness inside of me
Eating me away, from the inside
Is it wrong or right for me to hide?
Mirror Mirror When will it end?
When will me head begin to mend?
Why can't I ever be allowed to be me?
Then and only then will I be able to see.
Mirror Mirror Why are you there?
Blinding my sight without a care
Change into a window so i can see through you
And say to myself, Hey! I knew that I knew you.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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A Flower
Sitting in a flower of light
petals cuddle my fragile heart,
like a carousel, round and round it goes,
The nectar of this flower
like a healer's power
makes my heart stronger.
Abruptly
A dark blemish
of invisible force
wants to temper with the light
the petals close and takes my heart- into its vessel
-protecting.
'I can not allow, this playful mode
so it may seem
but not mistaken'
-The flower spoke and I awaken.
poem by Kasia Fedyk
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She’s Gone
Eyes bemused –
A disconnect
Dermal swathes of young and old
Reject the guessing of your age
You’re blind –
A blueprint for blankness
Your dreaming pipes through nothingness –
Are you still afloat? – atop the oceans,
Heaving, heavy over Hell,
Boiling, spoiling in a mind that couldn’t cope.
Ah! but Death smiles
And so do you
Kissing Him
Is all to do!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The Suicide Train
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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We must learn not to disassociate the airy flower from the earthy root, for the flower that is cut off from its root fades, and its seeds are barren, whereas the root, secure in mother earth, can produce flower after flower and bring their fruit to maturity.
160.Haunting Suicides
The battle fought
Between my soul and mind,
My conventions and contradictions,
My being and my death
Call it suicide and open the doors.
My inability to negate
My own self ever since long
Surrendering myself
To self chosen ignorance
Call it suicide and aerate the room.
Trying to still
The mind in the self
Impotent with pen and ink
Hungers to write history with sword
Call it suicide and sterilize the room.
Understanding the cosmos
But never the ego
Neglecting the self
Try to reach the summit of life
Call it suicide and incense the space.
Trying to tread the trodden path
The highroad of pride
Forgetting the inner spark
The elevating element of absolute
Call it suicide and disintegrate me to pieces!
4 10 08
poem by Rajagopal Haran
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What the eyes dont see
to the eyes, the earth
was once flat until
space proves to us
that it's round and
floating on air
to the eyes, death
is the end of things
until perhaps one day
space again proves
it adds colours to roots
and roundness of existence
the realm opens itself
to us like a bloom
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Suicide Countdown.
suicide, suicide i wish i was dead.
suicide, suicide oh how much my wrists have bled.
suicide, suicide were almost there.
suicide, suicide no more skin, the blade will tear.
suicide, suicide we have one week.
suicide, suicide so filled with relief, i cannot speak.
seven days, suicide; until i die.
six days, suicide; no longer will i cry.
five days, suicide; ooh i cant wait.
four days, suicide; until i meet my fate.
three days, suicide; till my last word is said.
two days, suicide; twenty four hours till im dead.
one day, suicide; till night tears through dawn.
today, suicide; i am dead, i am gone.
{ some Tiddely Winks person, copied and pasted my poem on their profile. I WROTE THIS, IT ANGERS ME SAVAGELY TO THINK SOMEONE TOOK MY POEM.! !
poem by Marissa E '
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The Only Flower You Are
A sunbeam caress the only flower from my garden,
What a nice feeling, what a pleasure,
Than to admire the beauty of a flower,
And closing eyes to dream about it.
It's a sweet flower,
Which opened its petals,
To get the joyful morning dew,
And with its fragrance to stun me,
To bring into my heart its magic.
But the most beautiful flower,
That sit next to me,
It's you my love,
You are just a flower bud,
You are all i ever want to hold, ,
You are my dream transposed into reality,
You are my life, my joy.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Rainbow’s Birth
The morning light
in your eye
unfurls a sail
in the solar wind
of sun rays.
Your fingers move
like flower petals
in the breeze
of June.
In the palm
of your hand
the rainbow
is born.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Den
Brain walls: bio-insulation keeps me cosy
in my hidden room.
Eye balls: bio-windows let me peer and sneer
upon our filthy race, with
Ear holes – bio-microphones – assuming tones
I only wish to face.
Inside, I flit between assimilation,
fantasy, and desperation – each another room
for me to occupy –
as in a nest or burrow, a honeycombed hive –
fathoming which to best survive in;
harbour me from that outside.
Shit! It’s just as bad in here –
I need another den to hide in!
So where’s a niche to keep me from the world,
but also from my rabid head?
Yes, of course –! it’s being dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Suicide, Suicide, Suicide
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide
Pull the trigger
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide
Noone will care
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide
Time to end your pain
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide
Heres the end of your game
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide
poem by Lizzie Resendiz
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A Ballad of London
AH, London! London! our delight,
Great flower that opens but at night,
Great City of the midnight sun,
Whose day begins when day is done.
Lamp after lamp against the sky
Opens a sudden beaming eye,
Leaping alight on either hand,
The iron lilies of the Strand.
Like dragonflies, the hansoms hover,
With jeweled eyes, to catch the lover;
The streets are full of lights and loves,
Soft gowns, and flutter of soiled doves.
The human moths about the light
Dash and cling close in dazed delight,
And burn and laugh, the world and wife,
For this is London, this is life!
Upon thy petals butterflies,
But at thy root, some say, there lies,
A world of weeping trodden things,
Poor worms that have not eyes or wings.
From out corruption of their woe
Springs this bright flower that charms us so,
Men die and rot deep out of sight
To keep this jungle-flower bright.
Paris and London, World-Flowers twain
Wherewith the World-Tree blooms again,
Since Time hath gathered Babylon,
And withered Rome still withers on.
Sidon and Tyre were such as ye,
How bright they shone upon the tree!
But Time hath gathered, both are gone,
And no man sails to Babylon.
poem by Richard Le Gallienne
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