Two Mothers
Israeli and Palestine conflict
Prostrate with grief
Rachel weeps for a dead son
Killed by a suicide bomber.
Prostrate with grief
Sarah weeps for a dead son -the suicide bomber
Who believed blood would set his people free.
Blood begets blood
Reprisal follows reprisal.
And there is no honour in death
Only tears of mothers for dead children.
poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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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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Suicide! !
Suicide
It's all i think about
Suicide
Can't get it out
Suicide
So hard to resist
Suicide
resist the urge to slit my wrist
Suicide
wishing i had a gun
Suicide
all i have is a small razor
Suicide
so i drag the blade across my legs and arms
Suicide
wishing to do myself much more harm
Suicide
and i wake soaked in blood
Suicide
cuts all over my body
Suicide
and im still somehow alive
Suicide
deep and long so much blood lost
Suicide
how am i still here?
Suicide
I really need a gun
Suicide
one day... one day
Suicide
poem by Kaliaha Hogue
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Hung Me
It's dead, it'd dead you killed it all
you fucked me over, you watched me fall
the life you sucked right out of me
dead you hung me from tree.
My blood spills out onto the ground
it screams, it cries without a sound
there is no victory here for me
dead you hung me from a tree.
You can run but you can't hide
you'll try to say it's suicide
torn apart for all to see
dead you hung me from a tree.
I'll prove to you your world is wrong
your power has gone on way to long
watch my body swing so free
dead you hung me from a tree.
Free from you I find my peace
in a grave that's six feet deep
the cage unlocked, I found the key
dead you hung me from a tree.
poem by CJA Anderson
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Suicide Suicide Suicide
Suicide is wishing I were dead
suicide is deep in my head,
suicide thoughts are cutting my wrists burning my ankles,
suicide my last tear dry, suicide.
I’m so done with this days I cry,
last tear dry suicide, suicide, suicide,
deep in my head suicide is because of my voices in my head,
suicide is the blur I see, suicide, is a feeling of someone there,
suicide suicide suicide,
now I’m almost dead turn out the lights and say goodnight
poem by Jessica Lee Workman
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Raining Blood
A lifeless object, alive
Awaiting reprisal
Death will be their acquisition
He sky is turning red
Return to power draws near
Fall into me,
The skys crimson tears
Abolish the rules made of stone
Pierced from below, souls of my treacherous
Past
Betrayed by many,
Now ornaments dripping above
Awaiting the hour of reprisal
Your time slips away
Raining blood
From a lacerated sky
Bleeding its horror
Creating my structure
Now I shall reign in blood!
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am so sick of reading about another car bomb, another suicide bomber, another 10, 20, 30, 70, 100 people dead in a day, both Americans and Iraqis.
quote by Rosanne Cash
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
I aim the gun
Its against my head
One right move
And I'll be dead
Because my only wish
Will never come true
It's not much
All I want is you
But you're so far away
You're not coming back
This pain is too much
Like an aerial attack
Unsuspected
Unprepared
Almost like
Noone cared
So suicide, suicide
My new best friend
Suicide, suicide
My final end
Suicide, suicide
You saved me
Suicide, suicide
I'm finally free
poem by Cassandra Hooper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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If This Is What Freedom Is About
If this is what freedom is about who would wish to be free
When only of war dead we read and hear about and pictures of death we see
Mothers grieving for their dead children in Iraq their heartbreak with them will stay
Until the Reaper claim them though for them 'twill be a happy day.
Is this what freedom is about when some talk of liberty
For the suffering of others they cannot show empathy
They say to rid you of your tyrant some of your children had to die
But that's the price you pay for democracy so your freedom now enjoy.
If this is what freedom is about then tyranny sounds sweet
A young woman murdered by a suicide bomber bits of her scattered around the Street
For how many years must this go on how many more must die in this way
If this is what freedom is about the price is too much too pay.
Is this what freedom is about a young man without feet
And some even say he is lucky that the Reaper he did cheat
The victim of a roadside bomb now in his mother's care
Do not talk of freedom to the one who sits in his wheelchair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Suicide, Suicide
Suicide, suicide wishing I were dead.
Suicide, suicide deep in my head.
Suicide, suicide cutting my wrists.
Suicide, suicide I'm so done with this.
2 days,2 days let until I die.
2 days,2 days til the last tear I'll cry.
2 days,2 days until I am all gone.
2 days,2 days til the dark breaks the dawn.
Suicide, suicide deep inside my head.
Suicide, suicide now I'm alomst dead.
Suicide, suicide turn out the light.
Suicide, suicide good bye, good night.
poem by Amber Zitzloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide Suicide
Suicide, suicide wishing I were dead,
Suicide, suicide deep in my head,
Suicide, suicide cutting my wrists,
Suicide, suicide I am so done with this.
Two days, two days let until I die,
Two days, two day till the last tear I'll cry,
Two days, two days until I am all gone,
Two days, two days till the dark breaks the dawn.
Suicide, suicide deep inside my head,
Suicide, suicide now I am almost dead,
Suicide, suicide turn out the lights,
Suicide, uicide goodbye and goodnight.
poem by Sam S.Slait
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide Suicide Suicide
Suicide is wishing I were dead
suicide is deep in my head,
suicide thoughts are cutting my wrists burning my ankles,
suicide my last tear dry, suicide.
I’m so done with this days I cry,
last tear dry suicide, suicide, suicide,
deep in my head suicide is because of my voices in my head,
suicide is the blur I see, suicide, is a feeling of someone there,
suicide suicide suicide,
now I’m almost dead turn out the lights and say goodnight
Jessica Lee Workman
poem by Jessica lee Workman
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Suicide 3
suicide suicide in my mind
suicide suicide your my kind
suicide suicide i wish i was dead
suicide suicide im lead on my bed
suicide suicide mt end has come
suicide suicide my deed is done
poem by Lindsay Birch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A curse to the mother
One invalid begs and the other scavenges.
One dies in an arson, hailing his leader’s
name
And the other dies as a suicide bomber.
One commits suicide and one is a prostitute.
How happy and with what dreams their mothers
Would have been when they gave birth to these children?
Where are they now? If they live it is a curse.
05.01.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Dead Heart
You chip away,
At my heart.
It breaks,
Into two.
I cry,
And just want to die.
I wipe my tears away,
And run away.
My broken heart,
The one you broke,
Is dead,
And so am I.
You have killed me,
With words so strong.
I became weak,
And lost my will to live.
You thought wrong of me,
Seeing my body lay still.
I get up,
And take you down.
I punch,
Looking for blood.
I kick,
Trying to make the kill.
I break an arm,
A leg,
And a hand.
Blood is pooling,
I get up,
Wipe the blood away on me,
And leave.
I look behind once,
And see your dead,
But you're actually dead,
Unlike me...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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I Know This Poor Bloke
I know this poor bloke in the mood for suicide
And he has felt heavy hearted since the day his wife died
Some five years ago his ache of loss from him not gone
And till the day of his death his grief with him will live on.
I do meet him often though not every day
And for words to him I always feel stuck to say
He always talks of his dead wife and the grief that he feel
And for him I feel sorry since his sorrow is real.
On his sense of loss with him I sympathize
And each time I see him he has tears in his eyes
My condolences to him I already did pay
But the grief that he feels it is with him to stay.
The price of true love it can come at a great cost
And he is left to mourn for what he has lost
One in his late sixties his hair silvery gray
And the clock on his life it is ticking away.
A man due to grief in the mood for suicide
Though he is one now I would rather avoid
Since each time I meet him he talks of his dead wife
And I am one who needs laughter in my life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Suicide Bomber
A suicide bomber (1)
I am suicide bomber
Here is my tale
-
You often say
I am for sale
With just money
You can avail
And hire my services
For destruction and to derail
-
Smooth running matter
Make my soul rattle
They always batter
Me like a battle
I kill human
As Butcher cattle
-
Who is at back?
That makes me rake
The rocks I slake
White and black
Men of god
I kill and track
-
Do such harm
As have been never done
I eat people
As you eat bun
I know I
Will be no more
But you also can not run
A suicide bomber (2)
Why I choose the evil side
Why can I not choose to avoid
In my mind and in my eyes
There are many what’s and many whys
Make me importune to at once rise
-
One word exploitation I say
Even in the words of your pray
Hypocrisy deep in your heart lay
-
Why I am poor and devoid
Of even bread and am deride
By those people who have cried
-
Do you not know why a hen
Become bold and fight then
A cat snatches a chick when
-
My siblings died for reason what
And their breaths why were shut
Why cat caught and why they gut
-
Among my people happy I was
Unjust dealings and undue laws
Became the effect and its cause
-
My dear now you should decide
Am I right or false way reside
Is it easy to commit suicide?
poem by Akram Saqib
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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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