Death.

I just finished a poem - simple connection of sex and death. I was wondering what you guys thought about death and it's ever-present influence.

To clarify, the poem is simply a 'death is like ______, yadda yadda yadda' thingy.

You have till the end of feb, my little darlings. Have fun. No other rules besides the use of the word 'death' is limited to that of one mention. xx

Do you need us to write it for one of your school assignments?

   
      < death seems like >
     
     death seems like my dog
     or this water-lily plant here
     or this newspaper headline that used to say something
     but it's all yellow from sun and water-lily watering
     
     while i was driving to work today:
     two mattresses
     thrown in the ditch
     wet
     making way for new ones that offer the same promise
     death seems like that
     
     or reading this poem
     noticing you're near the end of it
     death seems like that too
     
     but
     it's all just promises
     dreams
     wishes
     hopes
     what could have been
     what should have been
     "they let her die"
     finally
     the newspaper headline that used to say something
     does
     
           - - -

[quote]These Watery Eyes said:
Do you need us to write it for one of your school assignments?

Oh, no dear. It's just one of the many site competitions. :3 xx

Death and decay
are the dish
of the day.
Comes in many flavours
and it might do you
some favours.
Why cling to life
when your hearts
struck by a knife.
Welcome the eternal sleep
the unending daze
and count sheep.
For when you have a heart
to leave life is
just a start.
And if you have no heart
to pass away can't
tear you apart.
So eat up and be gone
to face the next bit
when you're done.
Its whatever you want
done little justice
in this font.
Its the dish of the day
which for all of us
will one day pay.

Death
is that fellow passenger
from two seats front,
with unblinking eyes
that unsettle you fine.

He sits there quiet
and taciturn
while you fidget,
shelled out by his eyes.
It is his eyes,
eyes that undress you
bold
from two seats front.

You distract yourself
through the two feet square world outside,
or pretend to read,
and fumble in your hold-all
for your quiet,
as he sits prim
and licks you up
with sunken torsive eyes.

He knows this game all too well,
the familiar jerk when the hook sinks in
tearing through the browning verdure
of your once-upon-a-time dreams.
With your half-boiled mind
You toy with your ticket
back to your mediocre manys,
a matinee movie minus a script
and you realize
as you are eaten alive
how easy it is to jump to
two seats front.

Death is air;
There's little more to say than that.
Death is part of the system,
Part of the routine,
Part of everything else
And the part we like to pretend
Isn't there.
Death is air:
It brushes up against you,
Brittle twigs in winter
And frozen leaves
Curled into balls
That had hoped for the spring thaw
And found the ice lacking.
Death is air,
Breathed into the lungs,
Sharp and spiking
And piercing through.
The alveoli cringe
And reject it but we know
That there will be a day,
A winter morning
- Crisp January,
Blue skies and
The snap and crunch of twigs
Under worn out boots
- When the cough never comes
And the air will settle and still
And death haunts,
Brushes, moves,
Curls around you and hugs you
And rushes to fill the gaps you leave.
But in the end,
Like air,
Death stills when you do,
And without the living,
Death dies a death as well.

and...

death gave me a present, once,
wrapped in some pretty pink paper,
she kissed me on the cheek and
said: “open it, dear, all the family
are here, here for you, so open it,
boy, and open it soon.” her eyes gleamed
like bedpans beneath strip lights,
and her breasts? they smelt of ether.

even I could tell that she was
beautiful, her face was soft as lovers’
words, and the drip, drip, drip of the
bag above my head accentuated this,
somehow, and when she pressed the
gift inside these bony hands, a lust
incredible swept over me, this
arousal proof that she was real, more so
than a bride, sprawled across the bed
with a rose between her teeth.

I undid the ribbon, let it slide onto the
clean white floor, and dug strange
claws down through the precious
wrapping. a mother and father stared
and cried as I exposed the cardboard box
below, and cast aside the paper like
one would a wrong assumption.

a hand grasped mine when I opened that
brown container, a man’s, determined
and quite masculine, if weakened now
by grief, but death took him aside and
mopped his brow, told him that his wife,
she needed him, whilst I needed the present,
to save me from myself.

she brushed my forehead with her mouth,
which felt like velvet chrome, bullets
wrapped in ecstasy, and told me that
the task was almost finished, that the
gift was almost won, so I opened the
box and a cloud spat on my face.

the saliva turned my skin to gold, and
the bed? it left like an incompetent
detective, and I fell and fell and fell

and…

The Hall Of The Damned

The scream of sheer death
it deflates your lungs
and rips out your breath  
it tears apart
the ventricles of your heart
like the demonic sounds
of a fallen angels harp
the evil flame forming faces
howl and burn mental , ash traces
that lick your brain with hot pain
which lights up the dark
to show the insane
in their stark
underworld , of plughole
down drain

A soul stealing trident
satan spiked and hell sent
tri pronged and wrapped  
in a serpent
stands arrow , capped in an
evil dominant
inside are trapped
spirits of unrepent
and infinite , expirement
they ache for your
desperate , detriment
and life , retirement

So how can you be here
if your not dead yet
a demon leans near
and says this is what
you might get
only fear
if you gamble
and lose the bet
your soul so dear
shall be centrally speared
and eternally in a net

The hall of the damned
full of gone murderers
that hanged  
now they're hell framed
their pictured in pain
the forever tortured
dead and inane
they contortedly cry out
faintly my name
as I leave satans
place of reign
I know after this
that I'll play the right game
and never shall I diss
the lords name
nor dare never
shall I ever
speak it
in vain
 

At last you're here
my dearest, darkest one
but why did you wait so long

You stole my love
so many years ago
to leave life's tortures
in her place

Uncoil your rage
and sink your fangs
in fabric of my soul

Free me
of time's stone
and grant me peace
my dearest Death

Thanks for the posts guys, keep them coming. :3 xx

Death is the Harvest Reaper, the closer of the night, the keynote speaker
The Grim Repossesser, With infinite discretion,
has been pondered on for years, through everyone's perception
Is it the Grand Finale ? or is it arising to another plane ? Is it a Time to Mourn, to be torn and overcome with pain?
For all it is not the same,
Some welcome Death with Pride in their veins, and await to be carried on a glorious flame, Others will sacrifice it all in Who-ever's holy name
Is it all just a Game, to the all mighy powers ? are we just seeds in a Grand Scheme, Merely Mortal Flowers?
According to my bible, the spirit doesn't recycle? but my Karma Keeps making me a Product of Revival
If Its all pre destined what's the purpose of survival?
The One on One Fight with Life's Eternal Rival
To Me Death is The natural turn of the cycle
       

death, the symbol of the fourth horseman of the apocalypse in the last Book of the Bible.
As it pans out in Revelation VI... Death follows life....
for those with the true faith.. death is naught to fear...
this is what we have been taught all of our lives
this is what we teach those who follow us.. and ad infinitum
May He who is Soverign hasten the day.. for it seems  that earth but degenerates with each passing.

I wrote a couple of poems that may be good for this subject. Here is the first of them... I call it, "The Ship of Death":

- The Ship of Death -

I walked amidst the purple flocks, the tiny flowers smiling back,
I looked upon the old farmlands, and saw many a tiny shack…
How long has it been since someone worked those old lands?
How long has it been since the soil felt gentle, loving hands?
It is not a curse upon those grounds, but neglect that poisons,
And so I shall not venture there, thence thusly my pace hastens!
Unto the shores of the sea I’ll go, to watch the tide rolling in…
I must forget, the pain that brought me far from my fellow man.
And so I walk, but cannot talk, for who shall hear me there?
Far from where I’ve been before, I hear a voice say: beware.
It is not courage that propels me on, though never a coward I,
It is vain hope to which I cling, as I walk beneath the cold sky.

And as I walked, I heard a raven rasp its’ mournful call…
“Beware the arms of the Angel of Death, for she must take all!”

At the shores of the sea, I sat upon some rocks amidst the sand,
A tiny crab was smiling at me, as if by some joyful command…
I spied a vessel coming forth through mists as old as all of time,
I heard the sailors singing merrily, the words of some old rhyme.
And soon the ship did drop anchor before my high rocky perch,
As towards the shore came a small boat, made from hard birch.
Sent from the larger vessel it was, that small boat made for two,
And rowing it was a lady fair, with bright eyes of sparkling blue.
Her hair was crimson in the sun, her gown as black as the night!
She put her craft upon the sand, and had caught me in her sight.
Reaching forth a slender hand, the lady urged me to come forth,
And so I left my gray rocky seat, for all that my soul was worth.

And as I walked, I heard a raven rasp its’ mournful call…
“Beware the arms of the Angel of Death, for she must take all!”

I asked the lady from whence she came, so she answered back:
“I come from across shadowy mists, and gulfs of outer black!”
I took her hand and it was cold as ice, numbing to the touch…
So as she led me to her boat, I was feeling in need of a crutch.
“Do you know why I have come, and whither we are bound?”
The lady asked me, but I knew not and stared at the ground…
At which she saw my puzzlement, and bid me take great heed,
She told me she had come, to collect the harvest of life’s seed.
To take the souls whose time is nigh and sail on darker tides…
For she was Death: and in colder mists her vessel ever resides.
And so I took my hand away, and bid the cold lady farewell…
Another time I’ll board her craft, when the tides rise and swell.

And as I walked, I heard a raven rasp its’ mournful call…
“You have spurned the Angel of Death, but one day must fall!”

And here is the second one. "Dark Maiden Denied":

- Dark Maiden Denied -

I hear the call of wolves in the far, far distance…
Ravenous in their hunger, so feral in intelligence!
Their hunger pales before a hunger in my soul…
A hunger for love that is growing out of control.
So long am I now, without light of love’s breath,
That in spirit I am far nearer unto lonely death…
For naught frustrates hope, more vile and severe,
Then having no comforting arms to hold me dear.
I long for the embrace of just one gentle maid…
But the maid who comes for me makes me afraid!
Her arms may be the gentlest of all we may know,
But her kiss is oblivion; it causes no life to grow.
I do not want to go with her, but how she calls…
I can hear her singing even through stucco walls.
And I become defiant, refusing to hear her music,
For the walls of my heart can become more thick.

So long has it been since a tender hand I did hold,
And I am afraid to go on, fearful of getting old…
I want to live for eternity so that I have all of time,
To find a sweet maiden, and to know love sublime.
But where is the love, in this world of cruel hatred?
I was not made to be hurt, to live in constant dread.
And somewhere in the darkness, the maid in black,
The one I do fear, her song keeps calling me back!
Back to the end of things, where the cycle turns…
Only to begin anew, after the last inner fire burns.
All souls must make that journey when time is up,
And the will of the dark maiden, not one can stop!
Does she not know I am young and still so strong?
My time is not yet nigh and I have done no wrong.
Destiny shall stop her, for I am fated to love anew,
And even death cannot stop fate from coming true.

I cannot pass beyond that barrier again, not again,
Until I hold in my arms, one more than a friend…
Even death shall not have me, until love has won;
I have sworn this oath beneath the moon and sun.
So away with you dark maid, dreaded by mortals!
Go back to the shadows through your pale portals.
Let the goddess of love and what angels do serve,
Bring me their blessings, and so steady my nerve.
Life has more to offer me, and I must stand firm,
And for love’s sake, stay the course of the storm.
But the dark maiden can only be denied so much!
Before my time is over I must know love’s touch.
We cannot wait for love until age robs us blind…
If you seek a truer love, I am here for you to find.
No man is truer, than one who is by love moved!
And by my heart, let my good soul be so proved.