Death comes in the winter When all is grey & white & cold Whether stealthy or raucous Gnawing or pouncing Prowling for entrails Frigid Final Leaving empty beds and empty arms Reminders of the empty holes In the long-empty hearts It’s icy fingers creep along the soul Waking long-dead musings …they buried them in the spring… Yet for him No grave will be dug For some winters never End.
Lush, green grass I awaken on. The sun bright upon my face, I do not feel it. I cannot feel anything. The birds, if they do sing, I hear none of their merry tune. I see everything and hear nothing. Except for a man. A man whose head was of a stag. I wail for I know who he is. He's the one who takes me to the next life. The horned God approaches, one hoof in front of the other. He sings the gentlest song: "Eyebright, lily, foot of a Colt, Ne'er grow old in my garden. Ripe as the fruit ye always will be, Bright and beloved...
or writer beings, I suppose haunting and passing through with their poetries n prose ghosts aren't any body then remaining after they die novice to expert or even medium, same as you and I when performing our readings
Knit to my heart by these threads of compassion As we find common place in the shadow of the sun When this life is but a window whereby we learn of something eternal When what makes heaven home is the hope of what’s to come
Let love mend the fractures and sorrow find us humbled by This mutual sense of loss with which we are acquainted in the illusion of the sting
As we see through the filter of every tear filled eye Death has a way of putting it all into perspective The beauty and the heartache of everything
Slithering Crawling Contorting No longer controlling Lingering Taunting Ghastly Holy haunting It’s time for you to die You reek of defeat Stinking under my feet How does it feel to be living a lie Thought you were important Ha! You’re a joke And so weak Trying to hide in illusion Spilling confusion Screaming doubt Cause you know there’s no way out You’re a prisoner of hell Do you hear the chains calling you What is snarling? Your sharp toothed cage ready to eat you alive
Whenever I think about the future. I get really sad, depressed and dejected. When I think about the past. I feel regret, melancholy and suicidal. Everything I did wrong, everything that can go wrong. Is it worth all the pain? Is it? I can’t see a way out. There is no way out. Why would there be? This is just torture. My own personal purgatory until I finally take my last breath and decend into hell. Where the tormenting will continue eternaly. I’m not special, I’m not worthy of luck or pleasure. I don’t deserve it. Why would I deserve it. I did nothing to earn a great life. I did nothing to...