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kaylene- mary Sep 2017
your ego cannot afford cremation
The true
purpose of light
is to escape
To reach
every corner
of the outer space

my dead,
not bury
Burn my remains
when the
rock turns clay.
02 July 2017


© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
When my time passes
And there’s no breath left in me,
Take my ashes to the oceans
And set my spirit free.
There I can rejoin my friends
There I will not be alone.
There I can make my amends
There I won’t be unknown.

Far too much blood spilled onto this planet
Makes its way to the sea.
The raining of blood by droplet
Rejoining there finally.

Don’t leave me in the cold, cold ground.
No – No imprisoned tomb for me.
Let the waves be my stone bound
An anxious tide, my cemetery.

There I can float on endless waves
A moving monument to see.
And if you leave a tear on my grave
I can float it away with me…
I have never understood the fascination with burials. At some point we need to grow up and realize why burying a person ever started. Think about it. The answer is staring you right between your eyes. Still don't know? What is between your eyes? Urggg. Your nose silly...
Crimsyy Mar 2017
The bruise of your
sudden absence
is a tattoo my heart
carries proudly.
But bruises and tattoos
turn bitter when they begin
pulling triggers;
How many times must I
bleed for you?
How many times must I
swallow the feeling of hollow
and still believe you care, my love?
Your soul's a stranger
but for love's sake
I'll take the danger
and let you turn my heart
into a cremation chamber.
Crimsyy Feb 2017

He is a truly sublime being,
his "I love you's" like
sticky notes, stickers,
every embrace leaves
an imprint on my arms,
every kiss clings to my tongue
until I taste him again,
His love, an adhesive,
a sudden wallop of rapture
flowing through each
cremation chamber,
making my heart hum hum hum
a little faster faster faster
love knows no punctuation

- Crimsyy
K Balachandran Apr 2016
Flickering candle light, braving wanton winds,
adds an unexpected melancholic twist;
a losing battle against formidable odds ends.
Though meant to make us feel romantic
even at the worst imaginable end chapter of it,
a doomed love that made moon beams burn,
itself bogged in morass, caused volcanic burst
in callous minds that walk backwards in time
who did everything to stop us dead in our tracks.

I am not blind not to see the quivering,
drops of tear, in your once much adored eyes,
I won't see any more after crossing this point of no return.

Doesn't this look like the perfect **** they had,
a story, in the middle brought to a deliberate end;
we can't stop it anyway, except acting out our parts
that we didn't see us doing  til this moment.

All we could do is this, give a loving burial
to this doomed love, let romance be the theme ,
in candle light we'll quietly cremate it, may the  remains of it,
ashes wind scatter,be the salt of the earth, for ever.
Marly Dec 2015
Can the soul be cremated? Is she still with me?
A once alive body turned into smoldering remains in a matter of moments, residing now on a shelf for all to simultaneously acknowledge and ignore.
Hannah, I miss you incredibly.
Inqhawq Nov 2015
Wear me as a diamond ring
Share me as a failed pairing.

Born of ash,
I am a star filled memory
Around your finger,
you know I'm forever me

The geometry of 'we'
Still troubles me
Is it me and you
Or just you?

Am I just turns for the worse
Thoughts for you to stuff in your purse

I've got to face it,
I see your face in every facet
In your eyes I'm a mirror maze,
I hold you hypnotized and amazed

smoke and mirrors
While I go from
Smoke to mirrors

I'm just a bit of carbon.
Did you know you can have your ashes compressed into a diamond? This is about that, sort of.
I watched a body burn yesterday,
with eyes closed shut
and brown hair parted so perfectly
that it couldn’t possibly have been you.
But it was wearing your shoes
the faded blue Converse
that I tried to throw away when you weren’t looking.
Your mom must have salvaged them.

I’ve been looking for you
in the places I thought would remember you.
I have found
that you don’t exist anywhere:
not in the urn
resting in your mother’s living room
not in the shower
where I try to freeze the love out of me.
You have left me smoldering.

Your mom told me they burned you
with a pack of cigarettes
in your jacket pocket.
The faint smell of burning tobacco
would follow you to death.

I think I might hate you.
You told me it was your trademark
to leave people wondering
about where you were going.
I thought you were just mysterious
not intentionally cruel.
But you have left me here
left me not knowing
if my heart is on fire
or if I stepped into the crematorium with you.
I can’t breathe right now.
Completely burnt out.
David Adamson Jul 2015
You can’t really picture the place.  
You don’t recall who was there.

But you remember surprise
That human ashes are not powdery dust,
Apt to disintegrate like snow,
Or soft like bread cast upon the waters.

Dad’s ashes chafed your palms like jagged seeds
As you clutched fistfuls from a plastic purple box
And flung them down a hillside
Somewhere in Little Cottonwood Canyon.

And you remember the feeling of urgency
As you retreated up the hill.
You had motions to go through,
Space to occupy,
A black and white landscape to walk
Among small figures filing along a dirt track
In the airless September heat.
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