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Brandy Nicole Sep 2015
Look at them
noticing me,
I think they finally see
through the dark of me,
the demon inside.
I was beginning to
believe I was living.
Possibly breathing
But I was dreaming,
thinking they'd see me.
They believed me
deceased
Joshua Adam Jul 2015
Death Is Not The End, But A New Beginning**

It is not the end, but a new beginning
a place that is the ultimate in giving
but a lifetime of attachment down here
clouds our minds, thinking of it with fear

The body replanted, with your soul finally released
a new way of living, part of a group called deceased
even though mentioning the word death causes fright
it's a place promised to be a delight, yes, for the upright

You're thinking how I can dare, mentioning death as a kindness
but your fear is natural, and perhaps caused by your own blindness
how would G-d, your Loving Creator, bring death upon you for naught
perhaps it has a benefit for you, but something you were never taught

The body is purged from sin, because our earth has this power to cleanse
so by burying the body in the earth, we will then enable it to make amends
if the soul is found worthy, after the day of judgement it will be redeemed
to be reunited with a pure body, something you would never have dreamed

Death, for the righteous, is then only the beginning, a harbinger for the ultimate bliss
an indescribable happiness beginning with G-d, taking his loved ones with a Divine kiss
thinking of death you no longer fear, because living a virtuous life you are now committed
the greatest happiness awaits for you to experience, knowing you will surely be admitted
This is a short poem relating to death and the righteous
Shadows of Night Jul 2015
This man taught me everything,
That I needed to know,
But I never really listened,
I thought I knew it all.

He gave me love,
Even when I really didn't want it,
And he touched my life,
In a way I cannot describe.

He taught me right from wrong,
And I can honestly say,
The day he left,
I wasn't that strong.

I felt like there was no more fire,
To ignite anymore,
That the darkness won,
Over my inner light.

He will be missed dearly,
Because he made a mark,
On all of our hearts,
His name written in permanent ink.

For all those times I left it unsaid,
I want to thank him.
Thank him for being there for me,
For being patient even when I made it difficult.

It's hard to believe,
That he is gone now,
Somewhere where I cannot reach,
But I am certain I will meet him again in Heaven.

Because when tomorrow starts without him,
Don't think we're far apart.
For every time I think of him,
He's right here in my heart.
My dad was only 45 or so when he died. He died on June 25, 2015 because of a car accident. This is what I read at his funeral.
Francie Lynch Jun 2015
I have a cemetary inside.
No fences.
Bodies are layered
East, west, north, south.
Legs and arms wrap my organs,
Squeezing sideways, lengthways
And diagonally.
Dates are heartstones
Chiselled in my brain.
They arrive unexpectedly,
Some from places I've not visited,
And stay.
It's crowded,
They keep coming.
I've flowers and meditations as well,
And sit quietly amidst the noise
And visit.
Jindomess Mar 2015
Footsteps outside your door
You hear them like a roar
Getting louder and louder
The thing comes nearer

You feel helpless
Afraid
Of the thing behind your door

Will your life come to it's end?
Is tonight the night?
Or, maybe
It's your wife?
Your children perhaps?

All deceased
By your hand
Shaking before
Your hand ceased
Like a nightmare
You're unable to move
Frozen by the site of...

Something
You can't believe

You force something out
Almost incomprehensible
"No.... Who are you?"

"Why, Daddy....
It's me"
Yay, I can write again!
Haylee Dicker Jan 2015
I battle my identity,
As people try to label me,
My mum tries to show me the right path,
But is this really destiny?
9-5,
Zero hours,
Holiday and sick pay impossible to claim,
Expected to work for 20 hours a day,
Minimum wage,

This society makes me insane,
On the weekends I can I run away to raves,
Take what ever I can to create waves,
Not like the sea, like to much Dizzle,
Party all night society says that's crazy,

But whats crazy is the war on drugs,
Some users just victims,
Can't get enough.
Instead of giving criminal records,
Affirming our behaviour,
Turning us riot, ruckus,
snapping wires,
How about a little support?
After all how bad must life be,
That children as young as 13 turn to drugs to escape?

It's medical,
Some say medicinal,
But when your mums crying,
Her heart dying,
Because her baby boys been lying?
No one wants police at the door,
But it was gunna be the last night you swore.
A new batch, strong stuff, you didn't believe
And now your six foot under
Rotting, deceased.

But maybe this could change?
If the right support was in place,
For all those getting spaced,
People will always seek a fix,
So why not monitor, control and safe proof it.
I love him
It's as simple as that
The red sprinkled
Like rain when it drizzles
But this red,
This rain
It wouldn't stop
It never lightened up
I kept staring out at the sky
It started to pour
Like millions of buckets were spilling blood from the clouds
That's how my love grew
I spent time with him
And the more time passed,
The more love was gained
Only...
It wasn't reciprocated
He didn't love me back
I knew he didn't
He loved his deceased wife
And the unborn child he never got to see
So never could he love
An immature woman like me
Poetic T Sep 2014
I am an echo in the wind
A shadow faint
Hardly is it seen,
I am
Deceased
Departed
Echoes
Of life now not seen,
But that breeze you feel
That touch upon your skin,
Is the love I have carried
Even death could not dim,
The Light of our love
Shining,
Warmth,
Vibrant,
Even the veil couldn't
Keep our love apart,
Know that I am here
That feeling is me holding you
When you sleep,
For love has no boundaries
Life,
&
Death,
Love lives even though I'm deceased.
Lainey Kit Jul 2014
You caught me off guard
I guess your journey was fulfilled
I did not know
I was not prepared

help me

Let me feel you
Your wisdom
Your love
Your light
Miranda Renea Jul 2014
My pap saw ghosts
The night he died.
I stood in his old boots
One year later, and learned
A subtle love of power
With fire, fire, *fire
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