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All my friends ae dead
I miss them so much
So many good memories
I survive for you
I love you guys
I wish you were here
If i had one more chance
Id give you a huge hug
My brothers are gone
But never forgotten
Death
We are moments
Bound by bones.
Brought to life,
By heart and soul.
You are real
though you are just a sequence of light.
A hologram held still
in my line of sight.
Like guitar strings plucked,
A vibration of life.
You’ll echo through me
Long after I’ve died.  
And soon we will be
Consumed by time,
Melted clocks over branches…
Swept away by the tides.

But I feel you now…
In this moment, right here.
You’re the only thing I’m sure of,
So you’re the only thing I fear.  

Maybe if we
Just stay very quiet,
The world will keep moving
And we’ll slip right by it.

If only I could hold you,
Til the end of time…
I could die knowing
I lived a good life.
Anais Vionet Dec 2023
Every once in a while, especially on holidays, I find myself wandering through my memory museum - rattling doors and fishing through those virtual hallways. That’s where I found ‘Father Lucas,’ last night, back from when I was eight or so, at (private catholic) school.

Each week, before we received that week's ‘catechism lesson,’ (religious education) from the nuns, we’d get to hear what Father Lucas had to say about the Kafkaesque mysteries of the universe. He looked very old, wise and wrinkled, like a skinny Santa Claus.

Outside of those brief lessons he was always shrouded in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Even at our age, we knew cigarettes were bad for you - but what did ‘Father Lucas’ have to fear from death? On him, the surrounding smoke seemed right and fitting, as if he were the human personification of the burning bush.

My father had just died (we were in a car crash). Before that, the biggest drama in my young life was putting one foot in front of the other, and suddenly, I had a lot - lot, lot of questions that I absolutely, positively and under no circumstances what-so-ever wanted to discuss with anyone.

Imagine, if you will, the gravitas that Rod Serling brought to the introduction of each Twilight Zone episode, and you have Father Lucas’ introducing the lesson. I felt an anticipation of answers independent of my individual situation.

Father Lucas provided context and meaning to the unknown, he dabbled in surrealism, spun out paradox and it seemed that he stood on the very edge of that dark room at the end of the maze. He was transmitting at my frequency, and I could have listened forever. Bless the man.

Ultimately, of course, there were no ‘answers’ - but that’s ok - no answers are an answer.
(*BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Kafkaesque: nightmarishly complex, bizarre, or illogical*)
Jeremy Betts Dec 2020
I can't trust my mind or my heart like you can't trust a post laxative ****
Seems like they've both been plotting against me from the start, planning to steal this soulful art
Like they know when it comes to the afterlife, reincarnation plays a big part
And with the knowledge and comfort of that truth they're ready to scrap me now like bad art
A defective throw away product that seems to have been bought at a dollar general corner mart
Then pushed around in a stolen grocery cart till interest fades and goes dark
I have to find the right end with no place to start, close my eyes and toss a dart
Then keep the blindfold on and let you tell me the score, not smart
Last time I trusted either of you ya fed me the equivalent of a week old shart
Through a feeding tube that I didn't need according to my hospital chart
Neglecting real issues when there's endorphins to bogart, losing my mind, watching my soul depart
I've lost and broken the both of you yet you still torment me, not even phased by my rampart
I never stood a chance, oblivious to the warning siren like Mozart, silent as I'm pulled apart
No one will think back on me but if they do I'll just be seen as another failed upstart

©2020
Jamie King Aug 2023
Our wealth an unfaithful wife, she's sooner gone when perils knock.
A bridegroom to poverty you may find yourself. A glutton, not a meal will she spare.

Our vessels, dust that longs for dust, in daily decay.
Our habitats, pedestrians in paths of typhoons and waves.
Our families, cups of bliss, a well of dismay.

We dull the mind in sewers, with each sip an illusion of joy resumes, as sorrows sleep.

A well of eternal bliss longed for having rejected The Owner. The springs of life freely flows but sewers we have preferred.
The spring of life flows freely the invitation has been shared.
Johnson Oyeniran Sep 2020
-Unbreakable Love


Not long too ago within the land of the free,
There was an adult named John and woman named lee.

Now, they were infact an interracial couple,
Illegal love that always got them in trouble.

Day after day they were beaten very badly,  
All because people hated seeing them happy.

Their bruised battered faces were beyond recognition,
As a result of an evil institution.

Although they were surrounded by vile racist beast,
The two comely love birds had each other, at least.

But one day the country issued a new decree:
''Hunt the two and rid them of this world quickly.''

So John and Lee were kidnapped by a gang of three,
Who hung the innocent young couple from a tree.

Together forever in life as well as death,
They held each others hands until their dying breath.
Zywa Apr 2023
Winter light eats the wide hill
ever barer, buzzards hover over

the headstones in the fertile soil
which for centuries bore olive trees

The souls are elsewhere, where Israel
takes them, the remains perish

in black cloths, to be the first people
to enter the new world on the day

the gate of mercy opens
That is what the dead have lived

and fought for, for that
they have won against the god of war

they have conquered the city, with the source
that breaks out of the earth

Jerusalem, where I suffer
from divided togetherness

Will children of my grandchildren
collect their bones, honour them and

grow olives here again
with sky-high twigs of peace?
Mount of Olives, Jerusalem

Isra-El = Azra-El, the angel of death, who collects the souls of the deceased

God of war: Shalem, after whom Jerusalem is named; today Jerusalem presents itself as the "City of Peace"

Collection "Short Sermons" #50
Gabriel Sep 2022
The bright ray of the sun
enters through our window
landed directly at your face
unveiling a beauty that captured my eyes
as you slowly wake up from your slumber
I get to catch a glimpse
of what I'll wake up to for the next days of my life
and what my arms will embrace
when darkness falls upon us.

You, my love
a chunk of the endless afterlives I'll take
where my soul wanders the plain
and search even for a hint
of your existence.
My body, like a built in memory foam
that remembers every corners
you placed your flesh onto
and hoping for you to arrive
ready for a home that only craves for you.

Grant me a wish,
Oh God divine and true
for the lover I swear to love,
To have and to hold,
I wish for a road
that in every after life we'll face,
no matter how long it'll take,
how rough it'll be,
she'll find me on that road
waiting
for me to hold her once more
Death awaits all
Fortunately,
It is not the end
But a transition to
A faraway place
And the beginning
Of another life;
A better one
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