Suicide Bride I
With you we are ten.
with ten fingers you clasp
believing vague nobility to grasp
We off from this pier.
on the float we look to each other
people we never encounter
Forty angels of neverland.
ask you for gutter flowers to detonate
what scattered hopes can donate
To feast the fear.
the debris is celebration confetti
a piercing explosion to catty
Who soon be forgotten.
faith denied in dropp of memory to fade
from the suicide bride's last crusade
(post Ritz-Marriott bombing 17 July 2009)
poem by Ida Mustazir
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Related quotes
Confetti party
Confetti party
Drop
Confetti party
Pop
Little fingers snap
Littlest hands will clap
Confetti take a nap
Confetti party
Yellow
Confetti party
Blue
Confetti party
Hello
Confetti party
Happy to you
Confetti party
Red
Confetti party
White
Confetti whispers
Spread
Confetti littlest
Good night
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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It all went back to problems we had talked about before, you know, such as the British not believing in formation bombing and not believing in daytime bombing.
quote by Stuart Symington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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July!
Raindrops of one July
gifted me flowers of friendship
and for the change in season
the same July offered
me flowers of hatred,
I turned speechless
without any words
like a silent earth...
July 10,2009
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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Robin Kuan: Was It Love that Grew You Rose?
Was it love that grew you, Rose?
Not harboured on the Cliffside by the sea
Red petals beaten by the salt and wind
And litter tossed beneath you carelessly
How delicate the fragrance of your flowers
So ravaged near the careless salty tide
No love has made you, Rose
And Yet your presence whispers, I abide
Was it hope that grew you, Rose?
Did a gardener come and visit you each day?
Was it one or five or three leaves ‘neath the bloom?
To make such flowers to take my breath away
No care has come to you by any hand
I see no shears or powders by your side
No hope has made you, Rose
And yet your presence whispers, I abide
Was it faith that grew you Rose
As winter burned your leaves to memory
And left your little branches cold and bare
Sweet flower on the Cliffside by the sea
How barren are your branches in the snow
Your vibrant flowers are frosted and denied
No faith has made you Rose
And Yet your presence whispers, I abide
Was it peace that grew you Rose
You heard “he loves me not, In singsong way”
Your petals scattered on the ground below
Confetti on the earth for children’s play
Your blooms will never be a bouquet held
For hybrid roses please the city bride
No peace has grown you Rose
And yet, your presence whispers, I abide
ii The epiphany
It was life that grew you Rose
Not faith or hope or love or peace, it’s true
As you braved the barren snows
It was life, that nestled deep inside of you
A force defying logics of the mind
More passion than all human love confides
It was life that made you Rose
I hear your presence whisper, I abide
In the place beyond us all
I visited with you by the morphic sea
You survived the winter snows
As sweet roses past revived your memory
And in simple heart I know
As I memorize these lines before repose
No wise man can realize
How profound you are my precious cliffside rose
(By My Dear Robin Kuan who is my friend)
poem by Laijon Liu
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At The Death of a Young Girl
I see its raw fury clawing at her hands,
Kissing her sallow face with lies so perfect on silk pillows,
Concealing raw, gaping wounds inside, the insult
The harsh silence, the enforced peace.
I have seen all this before, this beast, this darkness, this indifference
To waves of anguish washing through the room
As her mother weeps, and her father strokes
Her dark, perfect hair.
I see her, and
I know.
But what am I to say to their terror? These children
Look at me, questioning … after all,
I am their teacher…
But why did she die? , well, asthma… breath denied… but why?
I know this insistent knot, this question piercing my gut,
And I want to hide in silence, but questions will not be denied,
And I know their questions, all of them…
So what am I to say to calm their red, flowing eyes,
These, my poor, dark flowers, piercing me with their tears?
Faith.
Yes, read the book to them…Lazarus found out… faith…
Promises were made, now to be made good.
Yes, faith… what else is there but
Faith?
And so we say the rosary,
And we go on.
poem by Steven Federle
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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
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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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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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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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A Pebble In The Ocean
I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion
But I don't know
no I don't know
which way this worlds going to go
the summer
the summer seems like its ready to snow
and winter
winter wants to have summers glow.
so I throw
I throw a pebble into the ocean
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion
I'm waiting for it to explode
with all the destruction we cause it never seems to go
the smoke
the smoke makes the ocean
makes the ocean choke
the bottle doesn't reach you
the message was my love note that I wrote
for you
I wrote a love note for you
and now the maps gone missing
and I haven't got a clue
I don't know what to do
all I know is I want you.
So I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion.
Yes I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Suicide I cry
Suicide I cry with all my Heart
Suicide I cry, someone Kill me with a poision dart.
Suicide I cry, when I'm in pain
Crying suicide is not some kind of game
Suicide I cry most of the time.
I'll try suicide at a dropp of a dime.
Crying suicide is not a game
My cry of suicide is never the same
poem by Shauntae Taylor
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In Biddy's Cheeks Ye Roses Blow
In Biddy's Cheeks ye roses blow
In Cattys nose they rise
From Biddys lips soft accents flow
And streams from Catty's Eyes
The jet that Biddy's brows display
To Catty's teeth repairs
And Biddy's Lillies bleachd to grey
Appear in Catty's hairs
Yet all ye world sweet Biddy toast
neglected Catty lyes
While she deserves ye Bumper most
who most attracts our Eyes
poem by Thomas Parnell
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A Valentine in Pain
A dream of hidden death,
Embedded in her flowers –
Dripping; drenched in nectar tears
Now the dream of dying soul;
Confined, a trembling heart is
Squeezing out the ember years
And in her dream of youth,
Abounding buttocks writhe,
Acting out the careless dares
But the dream of hideous beauty:
Self-delusion, begging fears
Evolving from an agonising birth, her
Blacker days eclipsing; draining worth
‘So ugly living calls to die –
Forever in the dreams I cry! ’
Erotic debt; a laughing lie
Were done for her –
A blade for sure!
The dreams to cure!
A calming sigh…
And in a smile of pain
She bled and waned
Her cold pathetic bye
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Suicide Suicide Suicide cried
Suicide Suicide Suicide died
Suicide Suicide Suicide sighed
Suicide Suicide Suicide lied
Suicide Suicide Suicide cried
Suicide Suicide Suicide died
Suicide Suicide Suicide sighed
Suicide Suicide Suicide lied
Suicide Suicide Suicide cried
Suicide Suicide Suicide died
Suicide Suicide Suicide sighed
Suicide Suicide Suicide lied
Suicide Suicide Suicide cried
Suicide Suicide Suicide died
Suicide Suicide Suicide sighed
Suicide Suicide Suicide lied
Suicide Suicide Suicide tried
Suicide Suicide Suicide ride!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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We consider Christmas as the encounter, the great encounter, the historical encounter, the decisive encounter, between God and mankind. He who has faith knows this truly; let him rejoice.
quote by Pope Paul VI
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hindoo Girl’s Song
FLOAT on—float on—my haunted bark,
Above the midnight tide;
Bear softly o'er the waters dark
The hopes that with thee glide.
Float on—float on—thy freight is flowers,
And every flower reveals
The dreaming of my lonely hours,
The hope my spirit feels.
Float on—float on—thy shining lamp,
The light of love, is there;
If lost beneath the waters damp,
That love must then despair.
Float on—beneath the moonlight float
The sacred billows o'er:
Ah, some kind spirit guards my boat,
For it has gained the shore.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Farewell To Tinkerbell
Hey Tink it's me Peter, I know it's been a long, long time
I hope you and the lost boys are doing just as fine
As that time we showed that Captain Hook and Smee a thing or two
I think you know why I'm rhyming and I hope that you're not blue
You see I'll keep you in my heart and you'll always be my friend
But I can't come back to Neverland again
You see I've found this great adventure and it's stronger than the Pan
And the path that I follow will help me be a man
And I know there will be times that I will wish for fairy's dust
You know I've found a good woman and she's cleaning up the rust
From this battered-up heart that's made of junkyard tin
But I can't come back to Neverland again
No I can't come back to Neverland again
I still want to hear the stories of treasure ships and fights
And all the daring rescues and all the full moon nights
Sprinkled with the light from stars above
And Tink you know you'll always have my everlasting love
So just clap your hands and count back down to ten
But I can't come back to Neverland again
No I can't come back to Neverland again
And the years will pass and all my hair turns gray
And I'll hear your voice while my grandkids play
And feel your mischief as they kick me in my shins
But I can't come back to Neverland again
No I can't come back to Neverland again
No I can't come back to Neverland again
No I can't come back to Neverland again
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Mother's Kiss
My mother's kiss, my mother's kiss,
I feel its impress now;
As in the bright and happy days
She pressed it on my brow.
You say it is a fancied thing
Within my memory fraught;
To me it has a sacred place-
The treasure house of thought.
Again, I feel her fingers glide
Amid my clustering hair;
I see the love-light in her eyes,
When all my life was fair.
Again, I hear her gentle voice
In warning or in love.
How precious was the faith that taught
My soul of things above.
The music of her voice is stilled,
Her lips are paled in death.
As precious pearls I'll clasp her words
Until my latest breath.
The world has scattered round my path
Honor and wealth and fame;
But naught so precious as the thoughts
That gather round her name.
And friends have placed upon my brow
The laurels of renown;
But she first taught me how to wear
My manhood as a crown.
My hair is silvered o'er with age,
I'm longing to depart;
To clasp again my mother's hand,
And be a child at heart.
To roam with her the glory-land
Where saints and angels greet;
To cast our crowns with songs of love
At our Redeemer's feet.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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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
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
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suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Suicide (A Better Way) Lyrics ~Choking Victim~
Sippin on the dragon the other day,
Tompkins Square Park up by Avenue A.
Halfway down the forty and a pig come up to me,
said 'listen here boy, gotta show me yer ID.'
Well living in a police state,
I tell you man, it ain't that great,
I know it doesn't even matter what I say,
but don't ya know there's gotta be a better way?
I'm all alone, I'm feeling bad,
I'm by my self, all I ever had.
I hate my life, I'm such a mess,
I wanna die, I'm so depressed.
And every time I look at you,
I know exactly what to do.
I didn't want to be born, the pleasure all has died,
so now I'm gonna snuff it with a suicide.
Suicide (its the best) , no better way.
Sit in a hot bathtub, raise a blade
and slit your wrists, watch your life fade to black.
You have this power to kill yourself, called suicide,
and no one can take that back.
There is no better way to kill your self than suicide,
there is no sweater death,
no better way.... suicide
a better way....
do it kill your self
poem by Born Frustrated
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