Philosophy of death [Filozofia morţii]
To Death, with unwise voice, such words I will not pour
"Stop coming for a while and wait a little more!",
To breathe my last I'm ready right now or anytime!
In it there's always freedom, in life man slave becomes...
Eternity is waiting for us with open arms...
And thus we all re-enter the bosom sweet, sublime!
It's not at all appalling, as people say and sigh;
Its glance is calm and bluish like the unclouded sky.
The state before inception is mirrored by its face!
Stays at the worldly border like a triumphant gate
Its fires wash the passions which have been sent by fate,
And cleans the clay that covers our souls so full of grace!
If any of the spirits denies its high domain
Is worthy then to live here and feel the bitter pain!
When cease to be you're rescued from suffering and cry!
By Jove! I'm sick of sleeping, and drinking in delight,
Again to do the same things from dawn till late at night,
To live, but have the feeling I cannot choose to die!
But what's beyond the dying?... Another life may be
When blood has frozen solid and stopped to flow in thee?...
To say a No what being of this wide world would dare?...
And Death what's in its essence?... A sleep, a holy rest,
When once again our soft clay is kneaded and is pressed
And for that change majestic it has to wait and bear!
When paper burns, a fraction of it in ashes lies,
While smoke – the other fraction – above the flame will rise;
The same is with the body, made of two parts, no doubt,
The clay remains behind it and flowers will grow then,
While gases go in heaven to freshen once again
Those elements eternal from which they all came out!
O, shadows, you who passed away,
In death you never will subside,
You live in all we see today,
From where you left after you died;
Your soul is everywhere you please,
Burns with the flames, flies with the breeze,
Lies in the leaf that's turning green,
Speaks in the river winding, clean,
Smells from the flower that is seen,
We live in it, in us it lies,
Mothers in mourning, wipe your eyes,
Your children still are here with you!
Nothing is lost in world at all,
Nothing will pass, alive will stay,
The blade of grass, however small,
And my own body made of clay!
The tombstone tries, but all in vain,
To keep us in the moist terrain;
Birds come on it to drink and rest;
It's hit by wind, by rain oppressed!
Time breaks it and in moss is dressed;
Padlock and handles then will rust
Our country's soldiers, dead in dust,
Will be all over, in us, too!
I will not go to search in Hell
Those in the world who surely die
And Paradise is far, I tell,
Long is the ladder to the sky!
But in two vines, which join above,
I'll find two hearts that fell in love,
And in the willows sheding tears,
Poets with harps that soothe the ears,
In flowers, lovers young of years!
Moms in the stems stick in the ground
And heroes in the mounts around!
Let all the stupid people to fear the death today,
Which, to avoid temptation, will surely come and lay
At life's remotest border a barrier, alas;
But those who can see farther and hear the grave's loud call,
When feel they're on its edges and ready are to fall,
Like me, for Death, to drink up this necessary glass!
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Related quotes
Death is... A Compilation of Death Poetry
(10/05/2000)
Death is when your loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain to the heart
Death is a feeling of permanent sadness & pain
Death is when your loved ones have forever gone away
Death is a call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is a lesson to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is an unhappy feeling to have
Death is unpleasant on anyone's behalf
Death is something we all will go through
Death is a storm waiting to brew
Death is a lingering crow always overhead
Death is a soul, done being fed
Death is cruel,
Death is unfair,
Why death?
Does death care?
Death is unkind,
Death breaks hearts,
Why death?
Do you like to part?
Death is here,
Death is there,
Why death?
Why be everywhere?
Death is the end,
Death is to die,
Why death?
To make people cry?
Death was created,
Death is still here,
Why death?
We live in fear,
Death is death,
Death is dead,
Why death?
Because death said.
Death is forever, so don’t flirt with death
Death is painful, so stay away from knifes
Death is not for lovers, so don’t die
Death is not for me, so don’t even try
Death is never clear, so be careful
Death is never fun, so stay away from strangers
Death is never pleasing, so don’t get caught up in the hype
Death is never fair, so get use to it
Death is always occurring, so don’t forget it
Death is never what u expect, so expect the unexpected
Death is not for you, so please don’t give up
Death is forever, so don’t forget that
poem by Shenise Ashmeade
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Children's Playground In The City
THIS is a place where men laid their dead,
Each with his life-tale of good or ill;
Here prayers were murmured and hot tears shed,
And passionate anguish moaned its fill.
Silent now is each voice that cried,
And the tears that were wept have all been dried
In the dust; and dust are the hearts that bled
With hopeless longing for hearts grown still.
Dead and forgotten! for Death, requiter
Of love, taught Memory how to forget!
The love that remembered them died. Grow brighter,
Oh, dim grave-garden, with dead hearts set!
Room for the small flying feet to pass,
The feet of the children over the grass!
The dead, if they knew it, would feel them lighter
Than the weight of a stone that no tears make wet.
We must die too, and the grief that will live
Must die as surely--death comes to all;
But you who come after--let Nature give
To our graves her tears, to our dust her pall:
Let her hide us away in her cold broad breast,
Let us be forgotten, and be at rest,
And over our heads let the great world strive,
And the children's voices carol and call.
If your heart on the flower of remembrance is set,
There is one way to pluck it--and only one:
Dare you ask your country not to forget
A name that needs to be graved on stone?
By grief, strife, sacrifice, scorn of fame,
You may grave on the people's hearts your name,
Or your name may die, and your soul live yet
In the cause you died for--the work you have done.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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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
Death death death death death death death death death death death
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Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Death
Today I hear
my cousin dead
of cancer...
she was a little darling
to me and the family
but dead
now
I think of my death
like I did
back in 1998
if it's going to approach me
sooner or later
My old friend is dead
of liver cancer
people are dying around us
where would they go
after they die?
This was the most important question
that I have had since young
looking at the tombs on the mount slopes
I kept crying all evening and the night through
the fear of death took me over
and wouldn't let go of me
so every evening when the sun went down
I began crying
in fear of darkness
which meant no light
utter gloomy pitchy dark nights
that haunted me since young age
but now my friends are dying away
family members are leaving me
only to ponder on death
this night
some say death arrives in everybody's door
but not me
for I didn't know where I would be going
when I die
and there came Jesus the Savior
who proclaimed life eternal
the life after death
so I am rescued from this hell-bound
direction to go down to the dark grave
alone with no body to keep company for me
then I am a Christian and have life eternal
but still I fear death
like I did when I was a young kid
crying every evening after the sun went down
now I fear death approaching me
and I feel weary after a long
life journey I took
over the years
with no children to care for me
no husband to look after me
I see grey hair keep showing up and
hear people say,
'Why don't you dye your hair? '
Yes that was exactly how I felt
in 1998 when I was 39
and now I go back to that time
and ponder on this subject death.
If I die what will happen to all
that I might not know
but would like to stay around a bit
longer to see life events of the world
but people keep dying and disappearing
from this planet...
now I might have to prepare for that
too, in case I face death
suddenly it arrives
and kisses you sweet and
takes you away from this planet
then....What would you do
Maybe end up in heaven with Christ around
or end up in hell burning in sulfur fire
no matter what I say or do
death approaches gradually and
takes you by the hand and leads you
to its own destination
Should we go along with it
or should we fight against it
and strive to survive a bit longer
Only if I had a companion
he would be able to make things better
to rejoice over life and living
This man in my life who showed up
and transformed me completely
is still staying around me
showing off his charms and scents
I wish he is the new candle light
that will rekindle my doomed destiny
Now that People are dying away
and I also am preparing for my last day
and this new dawn brightens up my life
so it's God's grace to shine upon my life
by sending this little angelic hand
to assist me to live and love again
God bless his soul!
I figure he will stay around for quite a while
which is a great news
at this time of my life
for me
Thank God for looking over my life
and me
as always...
You have been a great Help.
02: 56 AM
(November 16,2012) Korea-Japan time
poem by Sangnam Nam
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After Death
IF we must part, this parting is the best:
How would you bear to lay
Your head on some warm pillow far away--
Your head, so used to lying on my breast?
But now your pillow is cold;
Your hands have flowers, and not my hands, to hold;
Upon our bed the worn bride-linen lies.
I have put the death-money upon your eyes,
So that you should not wake up in the night.
I have bound your face with white;
I have washed you, yes, with water and not with tears,--
Those arms wherein I have slept so many years,
Those feet that hastened when they came to me,
And all your body that belonged to me.
I have smoothed your dear dull hair,
And there is nothing left to say for you
And nothing left to fear or pray for you;
And I have got the rest of life to bear:
Thank God it is you, not I, who are lying there.
If I had died
And you had stood beside
This still white bed
Where the white, scented, horrible flowers are spread,--
I know the thing it is,
And I thank God that He has spared you this.
If one must bear it, thank God it was I
Who had to live and bear to see you die,
Who have to live, and bear to see you dead.
You will have nothing of it all to bear:
You will not even know that in your bed
You lie alone. You will not miss my head
Beside you on the pillow: you will rest
So soft in the grave you will not miss my breast.
But I--but I--Your pillow and your place--
And only the darkness laid against my face,
And only my anguish pressed against my side--
Thank God, thank God, that it was you who died!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Why Do I Feel Death So Near?
Why do I feel death so near?
Even as I hold my love so dear
I live in a world that’s filled with fear
So do the rest of us as I hear
Why do I feel death so close?
As I live in a state repose
Even when the light shines so gross
There is a shadow moving close
Why do I feel death so nigh?
Even when my heart is so high
With my love in my arms in by and by
A looming death draws by and I sigh
Why do I feel death is imminent?
Even as my love is penultimate
Treating as a constituent
Death do come so relevant
Why do I feel death so bore?
Maybe because it is at my door
poem by Alex Fischer
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The Dead Singer
'SHE is dead!' they say; 'she is robed for the grave; O there are lilies upon her breast;
Her mother has kissed her clay-cold lips, and folded her hands to rest;
Her blue eyes show through the waxen lids: they have hidden her hair's gold crown;
Her grave is dug, and its heap of earth is waiting to press her down.'
'She is dead!' they say to the people, her people, for whom she sung;
Whose hearts she touched with sorrow and love, like a harp with life-chords strung.
And the people hear—but behind their tear they smile as though they heard
Another voice, like a mystery, proclaim another word.
'She is not dead.' it says to their hearts; 'true Singers can never die;
Their life is a voice of higher things, unseen to the common eye;
The truths and the beauties are clear to them, God's right and the human wrong,
The heroes who die unknown, and the weak who are chained and scourged by the strong.'
And the people smile at the death-word, for the mystic voice is clear:
'THE SINGER WHO LIVED IS ALWAYS ALIVE: WE HEARKEN AND ALWAYS HEAR!'
And they raise her body with tender hands, and bear her down to the main,
They lay her in state on the mourning ship, like the lily-maid Elaine;
And they sail to her isle across the sea, where the people wait on the shore
To lift her in silence with heads all bare to her home forevermore,
Her home in the heart of her country; oh, a grave among our own
Is warmer and dearer than living on in the stranger lands alone.
No need of a tomb for the Singer! Her fair hair's pillow now
Is the sacred clay of her country, and the sky above her brow
Is the same that smiled and wept on her youth, and the grass around is deep
With the clinging leaves of the shamrock that cover her peaceful sleep.
Undreaming there she will rest and wait, in the tomb her people make,
Till she hears men's hearts, like the seeds in Spring, all stirring to be awake,
Till she feels the moving of souls that strain till the bands around them break;
And then, I think, her dead lips will smile and her eyes be oped to see,
When the cry goes out to the Nations that the Singer's land is free!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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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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Psalm 49 part 1
v.6-14
C. M.
Pride and death; or, The vanity of life and riches.
Why doth the man of riches grow
To insolence and pride,
To see his wealth and honors flow
With every rising tide?
[Why doth he treat the poor with scorn,
Made of the self-same clay,
And boast as though his flesh was born
Of better dust than they?]
Not all his treasures can procure
His soul a short reprieve,
Redeem from death one guilty hour,
Or make his brother live.
[Life is a blessing can't be sold,
The ransom is too high;
Justice will ne'er be bribed with gold,
That man may never die.]
He sees the brutish and the wise,
The tim'rous and the brave,
Quit their possessions, close their eyes,
And hasten to the grave.
Yet 'tis his inward thought and pride,-
My house shall ever stand
And that my name may long abide,
I'll give it to my land."
Vain are his thoughts, his hopes are lost,
How soon his memory dies!
His name is written in the dust
Where his own carcass lies.
PAUSE.
This is the folly of their way;
And yet their sons, as vain,
Approve the words their fathers say,
And act their works again.
Men void of wisdom and of grace,
If honor raise them high,
Live like the beast, a thoughtless race,
And like the beast they die.
[Laid in the grave like silly sheep,
Death feeds upon them there,
Till the last trumpet break their sleep
In terror and despair.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Paschandale
(SmithHarris)
In a foreign field he lay
Lonely soldier, unknown grave
On his dying words he prays
Tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
Last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
Kill tim 'til my very own death
On my face I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again
In the smoke, in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon
Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud, no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man's land, God only knows
Into jaws of death we go
Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen
Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to god no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go
Blood is falling like the rain
Its crimso
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven Can Wait....(Revised)
Heaven is the place where I want
to be when I am gone but right now...
Heaven can wait!
Heaven can wait...till I can help my sister
who got cancer, my brother who is lost in
life, my nephews and nieces who I can
be of help in terms of good advice and
financial hardships; give a lending hand
to my best friends who made me
who I am now!
Heaven can wait till I am able to
prove myself of what I want to be;
what I can be and achieve my
goals in life; help others
in varied ways in shaping them
for what they want to be with my
my hard-earned wisdom and experience!
Heaven can wait till I believe again in
Creation rather than in Evolution;
believe that there is a GOD than
convincing myself that there is None
or continuously doubt if there is One!
Heaven can wait till I find a church again
that I sincerely believe in that can give me
my last rites; a true messenger of Christ
not only of what he preaches of the Bible
but what kind of life we all should lead and
follow his example.
Heaven can wait till I fully understand
my own existence...do I exist to live or
live to exist; till I am able to comprehend
the mysterious Cycle of Life...birth and
death and the life span in-between.
What if I don’t end up in Heaven,
then I have to find out if there is such a
thing called Hell!
Heaven can wait...till I can assure and
find out for myself that I have a soul from
diehard Theologists so I can get there
or find out from brilliant Scientists that I
will decompose just like the rest of the
animals and just become part of the fertile soil.
Heaven can wait and fill that that space
for people who died because of poor health,
were in great pain and did not enjoy life;
the young ones who died because some
people are heartess; for babies whose lives
are aborted and never given chance to live.
Heaven can wait till I convince myself again
that there is Life after Death and there is
place called Heaven and a place called Hell!
If there is a Heaven...can you please wait;
and if I belong in Hell, God forgive me...
for Heaven's sake!
poem by Don Allan Dinio
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A Wish
I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
For these besiege the latest breath
Of fortune's favoured sons, not me.
I ask not each kind soul to keep
Tearless, when of my death he hears;
Let those who will, if any, weep!
There are worse plagues on earth than tears.
I ask but that my death may find
The freedom to my life denied;
Ask but the folly of mankind,
Then, at last, to quit my side.
Spare me the whispering, crowded room,
The friends who come, and gape, and go;
The ceremonious air of gloom -
All which makes death a hideous show!
Nor bring, to see me cease to live,
Some doctor full of phrase and fame,
To shake his sapient head and give
The ill he cannot cure a name.
Nor fetch, to take the accustomed toll
Of the poor sinner bound for death,
His brother doctor of the soul,
To canvass with official breath
The future and its viewless things -
That undiscovered mystery
Which one who feels death's winnowing wings
Must need read clearer, sure, than he!
Bring none of these; but let me be,
While all around in silence lies,
Moved to the window near, and see
Once more before my dying eyes
Bathed in the sacred dew of morn
The wide aerial landscape spread -
The world which was ere I was born,
The world which lasts when I am dead.
Which never was the friend of one,
Nor promised love it could not give,
But lit for all its generous sun,
And lived itself, and made us live.
There let me gaze, till I become
In soul with what I gaze on wed!
To feel the universe my home;
To have before my mind -instead
Of the sick-room, the mortal strife,
The turmoil for a little breath -
The pure eternal course of life,
Not human combatings with death.
Thus feeling, gazing, let me grow
Composed, refreshed, ennobled, clear;
Then willing let my spirit go
To work or wait elsewhere or here!
poem by Matthew Arnold (1867)
Submitted by anonym
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Death Married Death To Death
Death looks at the flower, and it screams,
I am wet, moist and beautiful, look at me.
Why do I stand here alone, come and beat me,
I will wait, I will wait you must come over here to speak.
Death hovers, smiling, winking and always talking,
and by you walking, knowing that, this time is yours
there is no rest, that death must ignore you as well.
Any thing that you touch will also never die, neglected.
Death is love, love is death, why are you both, here.
Death is your pet pink pig, two flying pearls,
slapping against deaths face.
Death is a dry cracked nipple, asleep, holding on until
the flesh falls off and the milk is yellow and dry..
Death is a bullet fixed, never moving, and why does the
world move you through it always with impertinence to show..
Death is a mysterious voice, so disturbing and your quite,
coming aligns along the border, sounding alarms to no one,
while you walk across the street knowing you never look
at death as it comes over to you while you talk to some
one else never paying attention and embarrassed death
again leaves you to rest over some other you know.
Death is reaching in your casket and squeezing dry cotton,
and holding it's nose while he wipes your face from above.
Death is a woman, who is happy, thinking the world is
spinning into her fruit cake while death drinks coffee.
Death to all men who think they can save the woman
by marring death and eating her tuna fish sandwich.
Death fingered you, and you loved it, now you finger me,
leaving a bee exposed on your flower, that decays..saying,
Death's own flower it's always sweet and poignant and..
Death is always waiting for you to open and smell them.......
Death is more than the lilies and roses, it crawls out of one,
and comes out of the other and covers the worm with lilacs.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paschendale
In a foreign field he lay
lonely soldier unknown grave
on his dying words he prays
tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
last communion of his soul
rust your bullets with his tears
let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
killing time 'til my very own death
on my face I can feel the falling rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke, in the mud and lead
smell of fear and feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
lifeless bodies hang on barbwire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drown in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
the sea of death it overflows
in no man's land God only knows
into jaws of death we go...
Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
everyman does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go...
Blood is falling like the rain
its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can't hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbwire
running straight at cannon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
across the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn 31
Christ's presence makes death easy.
Why should we start, and fear to die
What timorous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy,
And yet we dread to enter there.
The pains, the groans, and dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.
O! if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul should stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless through death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.
Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let's Live
(chorus)
lets live X5,
got to keep living, come on and
lets live X5,
try to stay, got to stay alive, my niggas
lets live X5,
we should be living here, come on and
lets live X5
lets live lets live...
ilook at my life and i realize i dont wanna let go, (no)
im tryin to survive i dont wanna die, im searchin the best road,
never playing myself, by playing with death, nigga yall better wake up to living,
and appreciate the life you're given,
oh no i dont (dont) wanna go, not now man,
theres too many things a nigga got planned too much to understand,
still so many goals for me to achieve and please believe it,
its rough but still that aint no reason to stop ya breathing,
they ask if a nigga was scared to pass away and i tell 'em hell yeah,
cant hug my babies if i drift and slip in hades its crazy,
and niggas be killin me sayin they ready to die, (you ready to die?)
im ready to live nigga.
grow old with my kids nigga,
aint taking no chances on no afterlife,
cause theres only death after life,
so ill be spending my time,
tyin to stay alive,
if i gotta live and let die
(chorus)
now we livin in a world full of war and murder,
but money makes the world go round and round,
everybody killin everybody
whats that sound?
nine millimeter heater buck em buck em all down,
ooh yall rest in peace, (looks like looks like)
people dont rest in peace, (the world: R-I-P)
(chorus)
now everybody wanna go to heaven, but nobody wanna die, (why?)
that dont make sense,
but let me tell you that i know of a place where (where),
we can just go and chill (just chill), for real,
no more crime,
no more strain,
no more dyin,
no more pain,
no more wasting our lives away,
got to pray X4
everyday X4
and if you fall,
be sure to write,
and everythings gon be all right,
just keep ya eyes on the prize,
and maybe you'll make it up outta this life,
we all die so young, victims of the gun
from poverty to harmony and then to (??)
my nigga you ready to end it?
speak for yourself;
im ready for life, and everything else?
to hell with that
(chorus)
song performed by by Krayzie Bone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Depart
My body now’s only a shell, where my spirit used to dwell,
No longer in this earthly tent, up to Heaven I’ve been sent,
Though on earth I have died, I’m now by my Savior’s side,
No longer in this body friend, to begin life that has no end.
Indeed on earth, I have died, but, now my body’s glorified,
I’ve risen as my Savior said, alive in Heaven far from dead,
While lifeless my body may be, I’ve passed to life eternally,
Now from earth I’ve departed, life with God has just started.
When on this earth I see death, I shall receive eternal breath,
Entering in that heavenly portal, I’ll receive a body immortal,
A new body to begin eternal life, with my Lord, Jesus Christ,
As I enter in that Eternal Door, to be with Christ forevermore.
Death again will see me never, as I will live with God forever,
In a mansion prepared for me, that I now can touch and see,
A place surpassing all my hope, a paradise of eternal scope,
A home granted to me by grace, to sit with God face to face.
Death was just to say goodbye, to meet with God up on high,
Where one day I’ll see you there, in a paradise, without a care,
For one day soon we will reunite, to be forever in God’s Light,
As death won’t stop us friend, from life with God, with no end.
(Copyright ©11/2010)
To Isa in Heaven
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew,
She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven! — Young.
Where is she now?
Oh! Isa! tell me where thou art?
If death has laid his hand upon thy brow,
Has he not touched my heart?
Has he not laid it in the grave with thine,
And buried all my joys?—Speak! thou art mine!
If thou were dead,
I would not ask thee to reply;
But thou art living—thy dear soul has fled
To heaven, where it can never die!
Then why not come to me? Return—return
And comfort me, for I have much to mourn!
I sigh all day!
I mourn for thee the livelong night!
And when the next night comes, thou art away,
And so is absent my delight!
Oh! as the lone dove for his absent mate,
So is my soul for thee disconsolate!
I long for death—
For any thing—to be with thee!
I did inhale, alas! thy dying breath,
That it might have some power on me
To make me what thou art!—but, thou art dead!
And I am here!—it strengthened me instead!
Joy there is none—
It went into the grave with thee!
And grief, because my spirit is alone,
Is all that comes to comfort me!
The very air I breathe is turned to sighs,
And all mine soul is melting from mine eyes!
I hear, at even,
The liquid carol of birds;
Their music makes me think of thee in heaven,
It is so much like thy sweet words.
The brooklet whispers, as it runs along,
Our first love-story with its liquid tongue.
Wake, Isa! wake!
And come back in this world again!
Oh! come down to me, for my soul's dear sake,
And cure me of this trying pain!
I would give all that earth to man can be,
If thou wert only in this world with me!
Day after day
I seek thee, but thou art not near!
I sit down on thy grave in the cold clay,
And listen for thy soul!—oh! dear!
And when some withered leaf falls from the tree,
I start as if thy soul had spoke to me!
And so it is,
And so it ever more must ever be
To him, who has been robbed of all the bliss
He ever knew, by loving thee!
For misery, in thine absence, is my wife!
What joy had been, hadst thou remained in life!
It is now even;
The birds have sung themselves to sleep;
And all the stars seem coming out of heaven,
As if to look upon me weep!—
Oh! let me not look up to thee in vain,
But come back to me in this world again!
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers (1842)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Our Numbness Along the Road Leading to Our Destiny
that night i passed by the road
leading to the house where i live,
someone died on the road
i did not mind i was eagerly heading for home
this morning while going to the university
another body sprawled on the road,
another dead body
there is a crowd of people
curious but not mourning
i do not stop for death
i am going towards mine
and we who are still living cannot really be surely
lucky
everyday we are dying
we simply have to wait for that fateful time
it is our turn we do not have to anticipate it
every hour
a part of us dies
it is enough
sharing these moments of death
and so i say
i cannot stop for another person's death
destiny has once taken him
and there is nothing that i can do
i am also just merely passing by...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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