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Adnan Hasan May 22
"O, you who march toward hell, embrace death—it is your only chance to escape alive.
Oh, you are oblivious to hope, beware—you stand on the brink of losing it forever.
Oh, you lingering at the edges of oblivion, existence is no game of hide-and-seek—find yourselves before you vanish.
You who arrive here know you are already among the departed. Calm your fears, for the worst has yet to come.
O, you who weep for the past, dry your tears. The past was once the present, but the future… the future will never be."
Orjeta May 19
“At the end of life, when the final breath escapes, everything we chased loses meaning.

A single breath takes a lifetime to release—yet still, I wonder:

how many breaths must be drawn and lost before we truly grasp the values that matter in this world?”
Inspired by the quiet truth that visits us when it’s almost too late.
Do you not think about it the thing we fear the most
Same way we will all end and have a string around our toe
Or is it just me wondering about something I really can not help
Something so honest but so hurtful to accept
Did it ever cross your mind
How soothing religion is to believe
Yet everyone still has that fear at the end,
because life isn't at all what it seems
You can only speak now
What you feel and what you know
But how certain are you of the place you end up when it's really time to go
They say give it to God and I did
And he gave the thoughts back
If hell wasn't such the curse
Would our good deeds still be an act
If you knew there was nothing at the end
Would you share that and instill fear
Or would you put your loved one's heart and mind at peace,
if you told them what they wanted to hear
In no way am I saying there is no super being
There's a whole wide world
So, God isn't what I'm questioning
What if we're supposed to just feel the right now
And feel all the moments
Just to say it has happened
Is that what the Lord only wanted
Life is a celebration
The poor suffer through, and the rich take a toast
But how can you be obsessed with something you fear the most?
Zywa Mar 28
Death is put away,

or it is lost, forgotten --


again and again.
Poem "Dis wat die dood doen" ("That's what death does", 2016, Ronelda Kamfer)

Collection "Here &Now&"
Two souls have come together,
two magical beings.
What does the universe want,
to stir such a commotion?

Everything will be allowed,
when their time arrives.

Perhaps they are not the only ones
protecting themselves.

Perhaps beings from beyond
are shielding them too.

For they share the same fears,
and all will unfold in the earthly realm,
when they choose.

They were everything,
they were nothing.

Everything was mystical,
fire,
and air.

They moved from the battle of life
to the refuge of disaster.

Only souls,
finally found.

They were the dream
they never dreamed,
but that the universe
had already decreed.
dead poet Jan 13
death is humble;
death does not discriminate;
death is everything,
but life.
David P Carroll Oct 2024
In the graveyard
silence reigns
Darkness all around
And loved ones
Memories linger never gone
And your all in our hearts
All day long

And the grass grows wild
Between the graves sadness
In my eyes as the
Names etched in stone faded with age
A reminder of life's final stage
And the moonlight casts
A ghostly glow over the graveyard tonight
For in death there is a stark reminder
To cherish each precious moment
we are given so
God bless you all.
Graveyard 🪦🪦🪦🪦
Zywa Dec 2023
Dying means little

without fantasy, else it's --


about everything.
Novel "Voyage au bout de la nuit" ("Journey to the End of the Night", 1932, Louis-Ferdinand Céline) - "Quand on a pas d'imagination, mourir c'est peu de choses, quand on en a, mourir c'est trop."

Collection "Over"
Zywa Jan 2023
The Friesian horses,

stepping in black cloths with hoods --


and snorting with life.
After reading the poem "Paarden met mantels" ("Horses with cloths", 1994, Arjen Duinker)

Collection "PumicePieces"
Dave Robertson Sep 2021
No age
no age at all
never a justification
a reason to placate us
just an implacable, non-negotiable theft
of love, histories and too much still to be

the solace, a skinflint’s compensation,
is that for a short while you had them
and they had you
and that was life

but that’s as much as you get
to try to make it through
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