Teach Happiness Life Survival Skills
On a scale of 1 to 10
what is the penalty factor
in failing life's lessons?
Alcoholism drug addicts
must be sitting down
at one along with what?
Serious sentenced convictions
lengthy internment prison
time to serve incarcerations?
So why ask why some choose
suicide by gun pills autocide
or wrist cutting knife proves
death by whatever is convenient
handy tall buildings bridges
therefore diving into volcanoes
running into awaited tsunami
are impractical compared
to simple death by drowning...
Why do we not teach children
happiness life survival skills
along with their basic ABCs?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Love Appreciation For All?
the penalty factor
in failing life's lessons
must bottom out at
suicide not
death
by misadventure
nice social terminology
life as 'the rat race'
'in a dog eat dog world'
education sports arts employment
normally acclaims only top achievers
leaves so many running on empty
'Why do we not teach children
happiness life survival skills
along with their basic ABCs? '
Why do we not teach
love appreciation
for all human beings?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.
poem by Ariel Morris
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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
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
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suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The poem and her poet
Death once told poor life defeated by life:
Life's no life if lived on the edge of knife,
No more a struggle, nor is full of strife,
Do ye know how many deaths is Death rife?
Death's all death; the same is not true of life,
Life tries to knot her up snaps when death's knife,
But I've heard a man asking on death bed,
Pray, tell me Death, how long ere I'm all dead?
To him, said death, straightening up his head,
Moments might when look like minutes of dread,
Minutes stretch and stretch into hours, instead,
When hours take days, and days, years, you are dead.
Remember, life's lived moment to moment,
‘Tis measured too in a moving moment,
Forget not: Death alone is permanent,
I dwell in life from birth, live life dormant;
There's no freedom in life, nor should death call,
Death changes but the bricks of prison wall,
All quarrels ‘tween life and death, big and small,
Settled are, death when proves him far too tall.
Life is a small piece, but a paragraph
Of my poem, said Death, metre nor measure but in half,
Life may decide every new beginning,
But ‘tis me that knows the length, knows ending.
Eons pass sans measure for endless time,
While no clocks tick, nor dare their hours to chime,
Boulders of rocks break down whilst time stands still,
O grinding into grains of sands sans will.
While life is stuck with my poem's first rhyme,
Death challenged life to dare the worst she can,
I'm the Absolute trouser wearing man1,
I wonder how relative would tick time!
_____________________________________________ ___________
1. Death muses himself to be the male principle, the purusha.
The poem stands for life and prakriti. The piece here depicts
a dialogue between Life, or the matter, the poem and her
creator poet, the Death. In Indic philosophy, purusha is the
presiding deity, the atman or soul, which is eternal and body
is made of prakriti, the material nature, which is death-bound.
_____________________________________________ __________________
- Musings | 12.08.12 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Death is when....
Death is when my loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain in my heart
Death is this feeling of permanent sadness and pain
Death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is the call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is the lesson i need to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is this unhappy feeling i have
Death is pleasant on my behalf
Death is the day i end my life
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is happiness to the world around me
Death started when i gained my life
Death can be helped along with this knife
Death is where i shall go
Death is close, i kno
Death willl come fast
Death is vast
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
Death is joy to me
Death has come for me
Death is gonna take me
Death will stop my misery
Death loves my company
Death ends the pain
Death takes me on that train
Death is near
Death is finally here
A Mother's Grief
There are no sorrows
Like a mother's grief
No one can ever know
And it is never brief.
The pain she carries
Is like daily death
Though memory buries
She cannot forget.
Where would she run
For a healing balm?
Tears for a lost son
Though shed, could not calm
A baneful mother's heart
For the death was so tragic
It had torn her apart
And for justice they seek
I pray her son's killers
Be caught to serve time
Heal this grieving mother
Knowing they pay the crime.
--------
This poem was about my friend, a mother whose son was brutally stabbed to death by two drug addicts while he was working late at night driving a tricycle. He was father to two small children.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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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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To live or not to live
SUICIDE SUICIDE IN MY BRAIN
SUICIDE IS THE WAY
I CANNOT BEAR THE PAIN
I WILL KILL MYSELF BY DRINKING POISON
FOR MY LIFE DOES NOT HAVE A REASON
SUICIDES NOT THE WAY PLEASE USE YOUR BRAIN
FROM COMMITING SUICIDE THERES NOTHING YOU WILL GAIN
PRAY TO GOD YOU WILL DISCOVER YOUR PURPOSE
FOR YOUR LIFE DOES HAVE A SPECIAL PURPOSE
YOU’LL KILL YOUR BODY NOT YOUR SOUL
IF YOU SUICIDE YOU ARE A FOOL
ONLY GOD IS THERE TO TAKE YOUR LIFE
SO PLEASE DON’T CUT YOUR WRIST
THROW AWAY THE KNIFE
ALL RIGHT THEN I HAVE MADE MY DECISION
I WAS WRONG I WAS MISTAKEN
I WILL NOT SUICIDE TO GO TO HELL
I WILL LIVE LONGER AND WORK FOR HEAVE
poem by Mohammed Junaid
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The Death Penalty
Bring back the death penalty screamed a lady as the blood ran, dripping from the cold concrete as her sons blood fled from its body. Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother as her child dies slowly watching the pools of life fade away from his eyes.
Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother while she watched her child being killed by the hands of another man, bring back the death penalty.
Bring back the death penalty as she screamed holding her dying child while he laid his last words and breath upon her chest. Bring back the death penalty she screamed in mercy so that she will so that she will no longer have to hold any more of her dying sons and lay them in graves before she lays in her own.
Bring back the death penalty she screamed as her sons soul left his body and he became another victim to a violent society. Bring back the death penalty, bring back our sons.
poem by Melvyn Mohan
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Today is the day
Today is the day I've waited for
I can't wait no more.
I just cannot stay.
So today is the day.
The die that I die
For tonight I'll take my life
I'll probably use a knife
To end my life.
I cannot stand
For I guess a good life was to much to demand
I cann't Handle pressure and pain.
For I am sure to go insane.
Im already mad.
All I no is bad.
For I can't stay sane
And Now all I see is red
Things will get better once I am dead
I am going to Die
So I say Goodbye
I take these pills in my hand
For I guess a good life was way to much to demand
But suicide will end it all
For not listening is my downfall
I take the pills in groups of ten
As I lie down I think of Life
I think I should use a knife
It will get better
as I sign my letter
With crimson blood.
One Slash of the knife
And I robbed myself of my life.
But the life I had was no good.
It was within a shitty hood
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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This Is The Sweetest Suicide
life goes on
just another day
this is the sweetest suicide
blood pours out
of my open wounds
this is the sweetest suicide
the haunting smiles
and heartless laughter
this is the sweetest suicide
the pills are counted
the knife is sharp
this is the sweetest suicide
the letter placed
my final breath
this is the sweetest suicide
and now at last
i say goodbye
this is the sweetest suicide
poem by Tashi Coote
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The Vision of Death
Many paint a
picture of Death.
They say that it
carries a scythe
and is a skeleton.
They say it comes
when murder or
fear are lurking.
Still, others say
that Death is
the way to
escape the tedious
work of life.
I say, personally,
that Death is an
important factor.
Without Death,
what would be life?
Boring and
useless.
Without trials
and tests of character.
Death is
the whole
motivation of
life.
Celebrate Death,
for it lets us live.
That is my opinion.
That is my view
on the importance
and necessity
of Death.
poem by Jenna Dandurand
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Shes Back.....
I cant wait till death has comes
in this dark evening
i cut a vein, my razor sharp as ever
i cant wait for death to come
alone in this world
should i write my suicide note?
but no, no one will read it
i am just a person not special
my life is nothing
i cat wait to die
besides who will stop me
i am nothing
i slit my wrist
as these tears come
i am back to my old self
i thought there was no love for me and
now you have proven me love cause more
pain in life, that love a second form of suicide.....
poem by Aurora Lockwood
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Justice?
How does taking a life justify losing a life
What is good without evil what is love without pain
What is worth without vain the strong survive the intelligent live
Live what is living what is a life worth how much can I get for mine
Can I sell it on eBay or Craig’s list no? Can I loan it to the homeless for a few moments
So my home they can with pride say they own it no? Can I donate it to a drug addict
So they can relapse without mishaps because it's hard to use heroin when your veins collapsed
Hard to get high when you 10 feet in the ground in a box with no sound
No light no life I know the answer is no right? So if you can't tell me how much a life is worth
Then u don't have the right to take one from earth justice is rubbish the death penalty wait penalty?
Last time a checked a penalty was 10 Yards or 2 minutes in a box depending on what sports u watch
So what is justice?
poem by Bron Dayvid
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Suicide 2
suicide
a simple word that means so much more
suicide
a mean of escape that shuts the door
suicide
get ready to jump
suicide
take one more breath
suicide
are you sure you want to carry out this threat?
suicide
this is your last chance to walk away
suicide
did you say good-bye?
suicide
it ends your life
and stops your friends and families life in time
poem by Tashi Coote
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Slow Motion Riot
What have we here storm before calm.
Strung out on fear so pass me the napalm
Break Bread with me before it is stolen
Sleep with one eye open silence is golden
Life a magazine Death a Reality
Drug dealer heroes thug celebrities
Rush hour gridlock may seem drastic
An open road compared to drug traffic
Starving to death on a Quaalude diet
Living in a Slow Motion Riot
Concisness it has been gagged and bound
Better make your last confession
The worlds doing its best impression
Of a ship with nowhere to go but down
Skyscraper fantasies Ghetto realities
Dreams watered down like softcore pornography
Watch your step gang related death
Funeral day wonder whos next
Crime is the standard built up Immunity
Only care if it's our community
Smokescreen safety can't trust the Government
In this world hell seems heaven sent
Were in a Slow Motion Riot
Life a Fantasy Death Reality
Life a Quarantine Death a courtesy
Life a Brevity Death Finality
Life a foul disease Death a Remedy
song performed by by 98 Mute
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suicidal Feelings
Suicide
I feel no fear
Suicide
I wish you were here
Suicide
I will use a knife
Suicide
I want to end my life
Suicide
I need to escape, be free
Suicide
ANSWER ME
Suicide
Take me away
Suicide
Make it today
Suicide
Your all over my mind
Suicide
Free me from my kind
Suicide
Let me pass in peace
Suicide
I need to release
Suicide
Now down i lie
Suicide
Goodbye
poem by Lucy Pickford
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Some Choose a Whisky Death.
Some choose a whisky death.
A taxpaying
coward’s death.
Slower
but with the same end
result
as tightening noose
or piercing bullet
or life
in general.
Some choose a whisky death.
While Death’s Icy Hand
raises frosty jug of
beer
they
burn bridges
and candles
in both ends
in blind challenge,
accepting,
knowing
THEY
would drink
piss
or poison
or bottled
spring
water
if it could fill up
the hollow
space
inside them.
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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