Related quotes: Sleep, those little slices of...

Sleep, those little slices of death, how I loathe them.

quote by Edgar Allan Poe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Sleep... Oh! how I loathe those little slices of death....

quote by Longfellow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleep, those little slices of death; Oh how I loathe them.

quote by Edgar Allan Poe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't sleep. I hate those little slices of death.

quote by Walter Reisch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loath and Fear

If I would rely on phrenology,
Or science, or mythology,
I'd burn down this damned city
And disembark in a conclusion
Of the ugly veracity:
I loathe everything!
I fear everything!
I loathe that I am writing about loathing
And I fear that I might lose every one
Though I barely have anyone,
So I loathe even more on this fear.
I loathe that I write about myself all the time, and
I fear that I might not be writing at all
I loathe that I would narrate a story
In the surreal slopes of enigma, and
I fear, afterwards, that no one will pry
To understand or even console.
I loathe that my mouth cannot mouth
What my hands opted to write, and
I fear that my hands aren't equipped
To write what I cannot mouth.
I loathe even more that I build walls
For people to beat down and divulge
The forlorn boy inside, and yet
I fear to be found.
And I loathe to the point of breaking
That no one ever cared to pry
And that makes me shudder in fear, and
I fear this kind of loathing
And loathe this kind of fear.
I loathe that I cannot gain readers, and
I fear that I may never have
I loathe that readers appreciates the writing
But not the congealed brook
Between the lines of it, and
I fear that they might not even
Appreciate the spilled blood
In every line of it.
I loathe, I fear,
That apart from writing
I am never good at anything
Except maybe from fearing and loathing.
I loathe that I blame the past
For making me loathe a lot, and
For making me fear a lot
For making me loathe sports, and
For making me fear trying
And all the brusquely recreations
And the shame of failing.
I loathe, I fear,
That I was turned
To be a loathing misanthrope
From a fearing diffident
Or perhaps not,
Perhaps, I am both.
I loathe, I fear,
The mad man that I am
Smoking the emaciation out
For I loathe and fear the society
And their chauvinistic beliefs.
I fear that I am ninety pounds flat,
I loathe that I am not doing anything,
And I loathe and fear my loathing and fearing
Because I fear that all I have left
Is my loathing to strengthen myself.
I loathe my poor drinking limit
And I loathe the carousals
As much as I fear encompassing the line
And fearing the toll of carousals
For I never get inebriated
In loathe and fear.
I loathe the carousing table
For they are full of shallow people
Except for one person, perhaps
And I loathe and I fear,
That I may not be him.
I loathe that I am poor
Because I am jobless
And so are my parents.
I loathe, I fear,
That when I finish college
And finally get a job
That I cannot think for myself
Because my shoulders are donned
With so much unsolicited weights;
I loathe that I loathe it
Because it makes me a loathing glutton
Self-centered and loathsome, and
I fear all this loathing
For the very same reasons.
I loathe that I do not have friends
And that I cannot have friends
And that I loathe my friends, and
I fear that I can loathe my friends
Or not having thereof
For I fear to realize
That I do not even know what I want
Or that no one knows what I want.
I loathe that I do not have the facilities
And sometimes the interest
And there is nothing much fearful
Than loathing your fears
And fearing your loathing
From your fears.
I fear the approaching season
For I am bound to loathe even more
That the people are carousing
For not a single reason
Whilst I loathe, whilst I fear
Not having anything.
And despite me inscribing these
I loathe that I am doing these, and
I fear that I am not doing these right.
I loathe and fear that I am hopeful
Again and again after another failure
And I loathe, and I fear,
That even with a fractured cranium
I would still go for another try
And I loathe even more
And I fear even more
That I loathe, and that I fear,
But never give up
On loath and fear.

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The society is problematic.

I am for freedom of expression
But I loathe it when it comes
From the people who are under me.
I am for strict obedience,
That I expect from those under me
Though I loathe practicing it.
I expect loyalty that I loathe showing.
That is why the society is problematic.
28.12.2005

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Til Death

Kill.
Were fighting death in a living hell.
Were fighting death remove any wait.
Were fighting death in a living hell.
Fighting death.
Were fighting death in a living hell.
Were fighting death remove any wait.
Were fighting death in a living hell.
Fighting death.
You play the loser.
Remain to live.
Live to the day.
Find the need, kill all.
Kill, raid, rot, and live to fight death.
We loathe thee to the death.
Loathe its lies.
Fight til the death.
Live, we die.
Kill for the need.
Death we love.
It lied.

song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some films are slices of life, mine are slices of cake.

quote by Alfred Hitchcock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Spring Sestina

it’s nearly noon and the sun slices
through the thick spring fog, dark
with winter’s gloom, heavy with fatality:
the spent daffodil’s bloom, the cut
tulip whose bulb shrinks into earth,
the dew worm mining to the surface,

the bittersweet-bellied robin surfaces
through cold air, the flight slices
until stick feet meet warm, wet earth
as eyes scan lawns and ditches dark
with winter sleep, the worm cuts
through to the robin’s charge, a fatality

among spring’s chalk marks of fatality
struck against the papery surface
of birch bark, each stain cuts
into the trunk, rips and slices
death as a jagged feature in dark
congealed blood of waking earth,

she is still there, deep in the earth,
calling her children one fatality,
then another, through each dark
season, sinking down from surface,
still air vibrates, incantations slice
through reality, scrape and cut

to the unknown, slash and cut
to another side of the dynamic earth,
the oblivious hyacinth slices
through, refuses to be a fatality
of the season and sings to the surface,
sun shines on the purple florets dark

with pride, ardent hope, like the dark
winter nights that momentarily cut
south past the equator, only to surface
after the humid summer sweat, earth
taking in her own fatality,
battered by tiny atmospheric slices,

dark proud mares issue youth to the earth,
fatalities quickly slip past yawning cuts,
slices of vitality embrace her broad strong surface

(Winner 2005 Carl Sandburg Poetry Contest, Carl Sandburg College, Galesburg Illinois)

poem by Jane L. Carman
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Let The Night Sleep

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!

While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!

While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!

poem by Subbaraman N V
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Midnight.....

somewhere
between two half slices
of a bread

a man slips in
with a mayonnaise
in his soul

the two slices close
him in
perfectly to make him
feel
that this is a world
of the burger

comforted
he waits for the other
to take the
best bite

all in his life
he simply
wants to be consumed
by hunger.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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…'

The Reign of Death

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sleep

Sometimes we fear to sleep
in case we don’t wake up again.
We fight the sleep
our bodies so desperately need
to rejuvenate itself again.

We fight because we fear death,
but death comes to us all.
The question of when we will never know.
It is no use fighting it,
as it will come when it is ready to take us away.

In the meantime, we should
enjoy every minute of everyday.
Tomorrows will look after themselves
as tomorrows always do.
So if your body needs sleep.
Just let it have it and sleep, sleep, sleep.

23 June 2008

poem by David Harris
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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.

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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Ballade

Bodies of comrade soldiers gleaming white
Within the mill-pool where you float and dive

And lounge around part-clothed or naked quite;
Beautiful shining forms of men alive,
O living lutes stringed with the senses five

For Love's sweet fingers; seeing Fate afar,
My very soul with Death for you must strive;

Because of you I loathe the name of War.

But O you piteous corpses yellow-black,

Rotting unburied in the sunbeam's light,
With teeth laid bare by yellow Hps curled back

Most hideously; whose tortured souls took
flight

Leaving your limbs, all mangled by the fight,
In attitudes of horror fouler far

Than dreams which haunt a devil's brain at
night;
Because of you I loathe the name of War.

Mothers and maids who loved you, and the wives
Bereft of your sweet presences; yea, all

Who knew you beautiful; and those small lives
Made of that knowledge; O, and you who call

For life (but vainly now) from that dark hall
Where wait the Unborn, and the loves which are

In future generations to befall;
Because of you I loathe the name of War,

l'envoi

Prince Jesu, hanging stark upon a tree

Crucified as the malefactors are
That man and man henceforth should brothers be;

Because of you I loathe the name of War.

poem by Frederick William Harvey
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I Sleep in Death

I Sleep In Death
............................

Such sweet caress
the soil - no less -
engulfed my mortal soul

In slumber sleep
Please do not weep
for what you can't have
nor hold

For I am gone
do not look upon
my grave
with sadness see

For I sleep in Death
no tear nor breath
will ever now depart
from thee...

poem by Wayne Leon Learmond
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Song Of Nature

the sky says,
sleep, sleep
i will protect you......
air says,
sleep, sleep
i will be only for you
she says,
please don't sleep
i will miss you before death
but always i ignore her and
go for a long sleep.........

poem by Silent Sound
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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.

The March of Death

Death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Snips Proud Men

DEATH is stronger than all the governments because
the governments are men and men die and then
death laughs: Now you see 'em, now you don't.
Death is stronger than all proud men and so death
snips proud men on the nose, throws a pair of
dice and says: Read 'em and weep.
Death sends a radiogram every day: When I want
you I'll drop in--and then one day he comes with a
master-key and lets himself in and says: We'll
go now.
Death is a nurse mother with big arms: 'Twon't hurt
you at all; it's your time now; just need a
long sleep, child; what have you had anyhow
better than sleep?

poem by Carl Sandburg
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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.

D eath Crawl

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death is sleep

The night does not weep
That it is about to die
When the Sun is about to rise,
Unaware of its rebirth though.

In my case I weep
That I am about to die
When the time comes
Despite the faith in rebirth.

Death is a long sleep.
Sleep is a short death.
Memory lives after the sleep
Memory dies after the death
01.04.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Related quotes

Loath and Fear

The society is problematic.

Til Death

Spring Sestina

Let The Night Sleep

Midnight.....

It's Death Again

Sleep

Beldame of Death

Ballade

I Sleep in Death

Song Of Nature

Disingenuousness

Death Snips Proud Men

Death and I

Death is sleep

En.Citatepedia^®.ro