The Things We Love
Death is alive,
When a television,
Is purchased.
poem by Zach McAuliffe
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Fairytales Are Alive And Well In Tales Like These
A young man with magic abilities
resurrecting people from death
brought back his childhood
sweetheart
But once having touched her and
she’s alive, he cannot touch her
again lest she die, that is the way
of his life-giving magic
When she fell he could not catch
her, only when they were both
wearing beekeeper’s protective
clothing, could they waltz
To the music of Strauss –
fairytales are alive and well
on television in tales like
these…
Television “Pushing Daisies”
poem by Margaret Alice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Eve of My Death
The eve of my death, a baby was born, and this kept me alive.
The eve of my death, a baby took her first stumbling steps, and this kept me
alive.
The eve of my death, a school bus filled with laughing children drove away,
and this kept me alive.
The eve of my death, I looked out my window to see my child be swept
away to prom, and this kept me alive.
The eve of my death, my baby, my child reached out her hand to accept her
diploma, she is not a baby or a child any more, and this kept me alive.
The eve of my death, I walked with my daughter down the isle, and this kept
me alive.
The eve of my death, I held my new born grandson in my arms, and this kept
me alive.
The day of my death, I feel my grandson's tears hit me like a cool spring rain,
I see his father behind a podium an inch away from tears, I feel the
flowers on the casket that holds the only thing that keeps me alive.
poem by Stephen Howard
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Television Man
Im looking and Im dreaming for the first time
Im inside and Im outside at the same time
And everything is real
Do I like the way I feel?
When the world crashes in into my living room
Television man made me what I am
People like to put the television down
But we are just good friends
(Im a) television man
I knew a girl, she was a macho man
But its alright, I wasnt fooled for long
This is the place for me
Im the king, and youre the queen
Chorus
Take a walk in the beautiful garden
Everyone would like to say hello
It doesnt matter what you say
Come and take us away
The world crashes in, into my living room
The world crashes in, into my living room
The world crashes in, into my living room
The world crashes in, into my living room
And we are still good friends...(television man)
Im watching everything...(television man)
Television man...(television man)
Im watching everything...(television man)
Television man...and Im gonna say
We are still good friends...and Im trying to be
Watchin everything...and I gotta say
We are still good friends...you know the way it is
Television man...Ive got what you need
We are still good friends...i know the way you are
Television man...i know what youre tryin to be
Watchin everything...and I gotta say
Thats how the story ends.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We love television because television brings us a world in which television does not exist.
quote by Barbara Ehrenreich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beldame of Death
A crunch: afoot a dead arachnid
Spanning once a serving plate –
Oh! that others be alive
With such as me for spider bait!
I slunk along the silent hall
Of ancient ore attired in grime –
Feculent beyond the nose;
No bearing here, nor feel for time.
I shuddered in appreciation –
The ambience would mortify
A feeble mind, aghast, opined
Of murky thought, and typify
The will of Belial err I brought
Upon myself to loathe and dread
Exquisite retribution: to linger
Oftentimes alive, then dead.
Compulsion saw me edging on
Toward a narrow door of oak.
Behind, I knew, a greater evil
Waiting in her fusty cloak.
A choice of nil upon the table;
Aught of leave, I had to face
Alone the shrew – her flaming aura
Angling me; my deep disgrace
From ugly deeds I dealt in life,
A heinous world I honed in glee…
'Now take a crooked path to death,
For I have come to torture thee! '
Out of eyes of orange flame,
A piercing glare, then here it came –
The cackling cry of chanting song:
'You thought you'd die alone in pain
The once – nay nay! you'll die with me,
And so a catch: you'll die again
Ad infinitum - ever be!
Your soul to curse, my heart we'll gore,
Your liver to draw and quarter;
A sadomasochistic pair,
We'll slither together in slaughter! '
I answered only with a scream, from
Sensing near her craving lust.
My crimes to answer; wrongs annul;
Renounce my soul and turn to dust...
On an evening cool and quiet,
Stretch an ear to listen tight –
Are you lucky of a moment –?
Hark! my clarion call of plight.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Notes on this poem can be found at:
http: //succumbedtothinking.webs.com/featuredpoems.htm
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tv Is King
All right! yeah!
I wish I was a man with a mechanical heart
Id conquer all my enemies alone
Id tear the guys apart
Then scatter the pieces
I wish I was the man in the sound proof booth
I wish I had a chance to stump the band
Or maybe tell the truth
And maybe I could win a color television
I really love my television
I love to sit by television
Cant live without my television
Tv is king
Youre my everything
I wish I had the girl with the bouncy hair
Wed ride off in a brand new car
Or fly a plane somewhere
Like probably jamaica
Ill brush my teeth, shampoo my hair,
And shave my face
Apply the necessary aerosol
In the appropriate place
And well spend the night together
Watching television
I cant turn off my television
Dont really know why television
I understand my television
Youve got your works in a drawer
And your colors on track
You have to brave the way
But you always come back
You make a hundred changes
But youre always the same
You make me so excited
And you make me so lame
Youre just a cute ball of gas
And a box full of tin
But you show me your junk
And I want to jump in
Oh if only your chassis
Was covered with skin
cause tv youre my everything
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The real drug
Television takes away what you could acheive.Newspapers takeaway your sense of what s it all about.Death destruction of our home Earth, people not looking out for each and everyone.Money its not what its all about, Corporate greed is insane, goverment well yeah look out here comes another one[Tax].They say We are here for the people, but never really listening.The laws don t seem to be working/families growing apart where are the kids riding bikes in the park being kids. Television computers videos thats where they are watching the screen not socialising, we are to blame competing with each other.Life is not a dress rehersal Move.Im not saying i have the answer because we cant change corparations and you wont allow thisthe need to have it all stops us.Television Print Radio Is the drug off all nations
poem by Andrew Watson
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Modern politics today requires a mastery of television. I've never really warmed up to television and, in fairness to television, it's never warmed up to me.
quote by Walter F. Mondale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Decay Lives
Behind the void - Where darkness fills black to give birth to the shade of grey - Fear is being stalked by Decay - Predatory sickness which morals onto nothing - Transfixed by the stench of the dead - Alive by feeding for millenium on death - Purer by the extreme conditioning where there is nowhere to find - If you do, you will find decay - Next to the living, alive in death - Alive by being dead.
poem by Unic Cjonr
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All The Memories I Will Keep Alive
All the memories
I will keep alive
And I will
Let it
Shine
Inside my head
Like
A
Television
poem by Aldo Kraas
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He's alive!
He's alive! He's back from the dead!
He has risen just like He said.
Conquering death and the grave.
Rising with mighty power to save.
He's alive! Come with me and see.
For He has won the victory.
Rejoice with me as the good news I tell
He's risen triumphant over death and hell.
Black & White Television
I looked in the mirror then
Saw my face in a dream.
With eyes sharp as diamonds
Blessed with clear vision.
Things were not as they seemed.
Black and white television
Stared back from the wall.
Is that my life?
Am I here at all?
Down in the high road, see
Motor cavalcades glide
Past shopwindow dressers
Desperately covering
All the parts they can hide.
Black and white television
Stares at me again.
Is that their lives?
Even dummies pretend.
The truth is so hard to deny.
The answer is here.
The screen never lies.
Black and white television.
Its the right television.
Show me its all a dream tonight.
The boys on the corner sulk
In their suzuki haze.
In primary colours
(each year more startling)
But they still fade to grey
On black and white television.
Its sweeping the land.
Is that your life?
Do you understand?
The truth is so hard to deny.
The answer is here.
The screen never lies.
Black and white television.
Back the right television.
Black and white television.
Hard to fight television.
Show me its all a dream tonight.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Week From Today
A week from today it will be the sixth anniversary of the day the towers crumbled.
A week from today the vivid pictures will flash across the television screen remind us of that day.
A week from today mothers, fathers, sons, daughter, friends and even strangers will gather at ground zero and weep as they remember the death the saw that day.
A week from today the President will get on television as we are grieving and remind us this is the reason we’re in Iraq.
And a week from today just like today I will look at my television and yell to the president that is bullshit. You SOB you used our anger and hunger for vengeance of that day to make us believe war is the only way to fight terrorist.
My heart goes out to all those who died from this war and those who died on what will be six years ago A week from today.
Forever Starts at the End (A Sonnet)
Eternal life will start in my late last.
But who knows death began ere I was born?
A christian needs to die, as it's a must,
Before he could have seen the coming morn.
The day I went out from my mother's womb,
Is just as my death anniversary.
A dead child risen from a woman's tomb,
And breathing dust that lives for vanity.
I'm now alive but died with Him; and then,
Will die to live a life, and will not die
Again of death that doubled-killed the men
Born dead, although, alive, yet passers-by...
The residents of deathless fire where dwell
Those who died dead to die a death in Hell.
poem by Ray Remalig
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Questions
Death is better than life. This lonely life and this lonely night are both equal to death. Always I beg for death although death does not come to me. Let me die because this world does not require me. I am not crazy and I have survived the worst. Hopefully future will be better but will I still be alive to see the future? I ask myself about why am I still breathing the air of this world? A question mark is the ending. Will I still be alive to see future of this world and of my life?
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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To They Who Are Hauted By The Spectre Of Death
Do not fear death because death is not to be feared.Death is the bride of every household therefore welcome her with open arms.Death is inevitable therefore do not deny yourself the pleasure of having a nice time while you're still alive.Death is a stage through which all of us must pass.Death is necessary and this old life would be very boring if we would all live forever.Accept the inevitability of death and die gratefully with less worry lines on your death mask, There are no worries in the other world and over there they offer you virgins to pamper you to compensate for your undeserved suffering in this world.Therefore be willing to die young and have a good looking corpse
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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