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Roman Pavel Jan 2014
When they burry me, remember my feet
Which trekked every step on broken streets
Felt the sands course through the toes in heat
Through the winters snow and the icy sleet
Tip toed at night, in the shadows, discrete
And in the day stomped to the beat
Carried me to a love so sweet
I beg of you, remember my feet

When they burry me, remember my knees
Which cushioned the flips and falls of the trapeze
Held up my frame with the greatest ease
And never knelt to anything in displease
Sprang up in the summer’s breeze
Survived through the winters freeze
And only bent to the love I wished to please
I beg of you, remember my knees

When they burry me, remember my hips
That were there for all my trips
Danced and shook for tips
Witness the beauty of an eclipse
Helped me stay balanced in all my slips
Swung side to side on moonlit strips
My love, who so tenderly grips
I beg of you, remember my hips

When they burry me, remember my hands
Which toiled and worked in foreign lands
Saluted in honorable commands
Showed knowledge that still expands
Gestured my souls demands
Conveyed a message that understands
Maintained a love that stands
I beg of you, remember my hands

When they burry me, remember my chest
Where my heart beat without rest
Gave me bravery in every quest
Allowed me to pass every test
Grew for those oppressed
Out front when I progressed
Where my love, became expressed
I beg of you, remember my chest

When they burry me, remember my head
Smart enough to help me earn my bread
Heard in passing, everything said
Looked upon the horizon spread
Felt the pain, when my body bled
Kept my body fed
Laid next to my love in bed
I beg of you, remember my head

When they burry me, remember my soul
How it took others on an emotional stroll
Made me conscious of my body toll
Gave me purpose, a position role
Appreciated everything in its whole
The spirit world where it patrolled
My love, whose heart it stole
Above all, I beg of you, remember my soul
A-S Mar 2014
Bury me underwater;
where corals can grow like plants,
piercing through my veins,
sticking out of my rotting flesh.

Burry me underwater;
where my torso would be,
my own personalized treasure chest;
with my broken heart,
as the most valuable finding.

Burry me underwater;
where fish would feed off,
of my undiscovered bruises,
and my unhealed wounds,

Burry me underwater,
so I can feel again.*

-a.s
Please give m some feedback on this one
Diana Dec 2012
Burry me lover don’t make me bleed
Bury me when the sun goes down at night
I can’t breathe no I can’t speak without you
Take away the pain this lonesome pain
Burry me in the winter under an apple tree
My heart its in a coma it wont beat
Burry me lover don’t make me bleed
Take away the pain inside of me
I’m hallow I’m empty without you
I said I’m done feeling so dead
Open up my coffin and let me sleep
Promise me you always be ok
Burry me lover don’t make me bleed
punk rock hippy Jul 2014
5.
I drop four ice cubes into my coke out of habit.
I kiss my sweet love four times for good luck so our team can win the game.
I catch myself counting to four when Im ready to speak up, I don't count to three or even ten I count to four.

It was on my back in big white letters when dad looked through the chain linked fence and said with every ounce of his pride "Take it for a ride lex."
That's the day I got my first homerun.
That's my old man's favorite number and mine too.
Ill never know why I look at him like hes god.

He spelt my name wrong two years back.
The letters said L-e-x-i,
I whispered that's not how you spell my name it's spelled L-e-x-i-e.
I whispered because I didn't want to embarrass him, I thought if I talked quiet enough no one could see my lips break around the words in shock.
I was 5 when me and mom left him.
The number 5 is my most unlucky number it always takes something from me, like my dog, she was in my arms on the fifth of may when heaven called for her to go home.

Dad came the next day to burry her, the hole he dug was to shallow.
Days after her funeral foxes came and
scattered her bones across the field.  

It was a treasure hunt to find all of them, I tried to save her one last time.

I should really give that man a call.
I'll do it tomorrow , or I'll wait for him to call.
I'll count to four before I answer.
Rachel Samson Oct 2013
Dear Haters,

Thanks for being my fuel to work harder
Thanks for dragging me down, it make me stronger
Sorry I’m not like you, I can’t be somebody else
Sorry you can’t be me, I know you’re eager

Thanks for shaking my world
Thanks for making me feel that I exist
Thanks for always being in my back
At least I know I’m on the right track

Keep talking about my mistake
It pretty obvious you’re nothing but a fake
I know you really don’t hate me
You just can’t admit that you can’t be me

You might be able to slow me down
But you ain’t gonna break me.
I know you’re always mad
Always wish things that I had

I know you’re bitter
A pretty confused admirer
No matter what you say, doesn’t matter
Coz I know you know I’m better
Take care my avid fan!
Thanks for making me the center of your world
Keep talking, you’re making me famous.
You’re a great motivator.

Sending my love to all my haters, xoxo
~ Goddess
P.S
I **** you with my success. Gonna burry you with my smile. Have Fun.
Enigmuse May 2014
S
  o when I die, burry me inside the deepest of graves
  farther than six-feet-under, because if I’m that close
  I won’t behave. I’m too close to him, through the earth
  I feel his sins, and they keep me alive until
T
  omorrow. When the quiet life subsides, there’s no blue
  left in the sky, and the life we thought we lived was just
  a happy little lie. **** affection, I don’t need it, all my
  lies will supercede it, and I don’t need some therapist
O
  ver-analyzing my thoughts, because I’m already dead.
  Love was just a word we made up to feel better about
  the holes in our shoes and the ones in our hearts, and
  maybe I’m not over him, but I’m over the thought of him
R
  eaching out and grabbing my hands, he’s a boy, not
  a man, and he’s too afraid to whisper ‘I love you, too’
  because he’s too busy trying on a new pair of running
  shoes, and I know he won’t ever love me, even though
G
  od and him both tell me to wait and see, and I know he
  won’t stay, even though he swears he’s anchored to me
  and I know when the sun sets, he’ll be nowhere to be found
  just burry me at least seven feet under the ground, ‘cause the
E*
  arth will love me more than him, and the frigid temperatures
  will remind me where I am, and the sun will bleed down promises
  (not so empty this time), and my corpse will be the breeding
ground for new life. I don’t love him, but I’m glad he killed me…

I always wanted to be a flower.
Now I get to be a whole bed of them.
storge: another word for affection
Zhanuary Arielle Jun 2017
My mind is an ocean,
with no waves to surf,
no water to swim,
it is only a place to think of death.

My mind is a garden,
with no space to bloom,
though it has time to chase butterflies,
it is only a place to burry the truth.

My mind is a forest,
with no place to rest,
no enchanted story or a crazy tale,
it is only a place where other minds protest.

My mind is earth,
where countless people die,
it has no mornings and nights,
it is only a place to think of death.
Seema Feb 2018
I will fade away, like a sketch
Gone, torn, broken so far away
Where no one would be there to catch
Not even a word to say

Alone, in this busy world
An identity of an unknown
I'd be forgotten soon
Like a weary leaf, been blown

You promised to be by my side
But instead, you pushed me outside
Dropped from a glass tower
Taunting every minute, every hour

What did I do wrong?
What have I ever done?
You hated our favorite song
The love that shined, now all gone

Perhaps, burry me in your memory
And walk away like a stranger
You'd not stop, even if I tried
And never see the danger

I'd be fine, yes I'll be
Once you were mine
But now on my own, living you alone
I'll be fine

So sorry, I took up your time
That for now, you labeled as wasted
You never told me my crime
But the bitter hate, I tasted

I'd have lived by your side
In the dark days, showing you light
But now, I am fading away
Like a mist, in the darkest night

I should've never loved you
If I'd known, you'd leave my side
While breaking my heart into two
You gobbled up, all your lies

What should I think?
What should I do?
Atleast give me a clue
Of what I should do?

In a blink, you took all away
No reasons, no words, no nothing at all
So I am fading away, yes I am
I cannot hear your call

Coz,
         I
            am
                  Falling
                              Falling,
                         ­             
                                                 Fading
                                                ­            Away....


©sim
Scribbling thoughts with imagination.
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
By This Sword 911 Is Avenged
This was written right after 911 now I’m rewriting it from the time that has passed a cooling a distancing has occurred in us not in our
Enemies I will write the first paragraph basically as it was written then go from there. They have cells; we have wells and mines, Wells
Of emotion for God, flag and country the mines are far flung and close at hand. From these mines, the blacksmith is hammering out a New sword of liberty the material comes from all of our battle fields in our national history. These make up the strong wide back
part Of the sword the sharp keen edge that is terrifying to behold this material from the Pentagon, Trade Towers, and from our four
American commercial airliners filled with Americans. The dross of the terrorists have been skimmed off and purified by our national prayers
And solemn vows for justice now stands one giant the sum of us all. The sword has just been placed in his hand. Let’s talk about the
Sword it cuts both ways-coming and going. The giant holds it flat, moves it back and forth in front of him underneath the land is
Pictured perfectly back up on the blade it hums like a dynamo let’s start it from the place the atrocity and carnage occurred I wrote
More about Miss Liberty in Imposter you ought to read it one of our greatest minds for freedom and liberty Lincoln said these should
Be taught to every child and from every pulpit and school house and every public arena should resound with the truth about this
Great enterprise and experiment in human government. I also wrote Freedoms Citadel and Fertile ground about Jefferson and the
Constitution the reading of them was tepid they mean little in today’s conscious mind but in these very matters freedom live or dies
The blade appears out of the black smoke that stunted and muted Miss Liberty and her awesome record and history here is where
Hell left its signature. I will after all add a part of what I wrote in Imposter America proud land of liberty; too long it’s been just a
Veneer, freedom you espouse, to have this you must clean prejudice from your house. True greatness finally you will know, when it
Shines through all colors, to do this you must rediscover the bedrock of your heritage. Truly believe the words that say "We the
People words that shook the elements, only being surpassed at creations stage. To long our apathy has been collaborating with our
Enemy’s no more, this challenge is given to restore. Opportunity’s open door let us our energy out pour. That freedoms passion soars,
As in the past ******* it tore. Land of light continue, Miss Liberty your lamp burning bright. Oh great nation receive your benediction
And knighthood from her continuous burning flame now advance our freedom and liberty through the bright rays of truth that founded
This nation the blade shines and burns away all deceit it tells truth and shows our mistakes and so when it passes the white house one
Who comes from the fount and central place where Lincoln’s Shadow is so pronounced if Lincoln could rise he would make short order
Of the junior senator from Illinois he would Exposé his political views as not true American but a hybrid who speaks a world view not
A Central American one his history makes him Espouse thoughts and ideas that are not held by most Americans they are contraire to
What the founders envisioned but with Personality and ability to speak well he has made inroads especially in a liberal setting the voters
Will realign this error the blade passes on inland it moves across the coal mines of Pennsylvania it stops and hums with a drowning
Sound at the site where brave Americans Fought in the sky and died saving many others here is a great place to show the difference in
The two different swords battling for Rule in our world today yes they have a sword it is one that beheads their own people or at
Times the lives of the innocents must perish to it savagery forged in hell it gleams but with every conceivable power of evil the more
They use it the more they destroy they burry themselves in the tangled web that no man can escape from a recent telling of Liberia’s
Civil war will cast true light on the sword they wield with such relish one of the Generals in this conflict and let me add here the same is
Going to happen in to the drug lords in Mexico in one form or another salvation or destruction from Him who is really in charge so this
So called General in Liberia was doing what he did best slaughtering the innocent and helpless two of the nuns ***** and killed with
Their three companions had just attended our worship service two days before their deaths. But into this evil spectacle He who is all
power and holy spoke general you are nothing more than someone who is being used by the devil and the devil had one other to ****
Three hundred people a day add that up to three hundred and sixty five days he did it to keep empowered by the devil but our general
Couldn’t get away from those simple but true words he came to the united Pentecostal mission church went to the altar first he lay
Down the defiled sword went to a church that preached baptism in the titles instead of Jesus name the bible says if you desire truth on
The inward parts you will be led to all truth he argued for six months saying he saw no difference but he called from Nigeria all excited
There was a difference God gave him the revelation the bible says Christ is the beginner and finisher of our faith he starts and finishes
What he starts this former butcher went to the altar in the mission mentioned repented was rebaptized in Jesus name filled with the
Holy Ghost spoke in tongues as the bible said this is the only way to remove the sword from a deceived and dying race born to blood
And cruelty because the master liar entered the world as a false religion in the desert an unexplained terrifying light is gleaming
As a mirror but this one is shaped as an eagle with its talons inches from the back of a unholy fiend his life is an insult to all eastern people
That love their country as we love ours pray that we honor our dead by not making widows and orphans of the innocent. Bin Laden
Stand if you can we did not desire blood but you cut open our veins made us replace our loved ones with marble stone we hear a new
Sound in the desert, groans of death, and your fixed lot by our God who is true and holy.

The lion mentioned is not the man but the
hate and the source of all hate is Satan “Bread corn is bruised” Isa 28:28 Ignatius
Martyred in Rome after being taken from Antioch, who is better to speak to our recently martyred people He said God has made me
Bread for his elect, and if it be needful that the bread must be ground in the teeth of the lion to feed his children, blessed is the name
of The lord a new Christian foundation is being laid and within the walls of this our national home. There is a sacred field with deep
Furrows the victims and future military dead the precious seed. Our tears and their sacrifice will water this future harvest, from this
Rich grain the baskets of spiritual bread will overflow, we presume not to feed ourselves but our enemies also the Arab world cries
from Hunger and evil agents of Satan feed them poison. However we know the great physician who will heal us from this blight.
The blade has passed to the end of our land and back prayer alone can keep it pure and sharp and it will devour the enemy of us all the sword
Satan wields an ineffective beaten sword if we but pray for truth and light for all.
Hayley Neininger Feb 2012
Sometimes I think
That I eat grapes too much.
I eat them so much,
And so many that
Some fall into the fissures
Of my mind.
They burry themselves there
And there I let
Them sit.
For days,
months,
For years.
until they ferment,
Until they make me drunk
So mind drunk I think of you.
Of you and your
Intoxicating voice
One I that I can’t make out
Completely  until
I eat more grapes that
Fill my mind so full
Some slip down into my throat
And mute my voice
So that yours is the only
One I can speak in
And you always talk of making more
Wine.
Elemenohp Feb 2011
He breaks her, and degrades her,
Her pain makes him smile.
Though only for the shortest while,
For he isn't sure that she won't get up,
And it's his job to make her feel stuck
To this feeling, she's worth nothing.

You're a *****, you're a *****,
And you're always wanting more.
You get what you deserve.
Girl, you've got some nerve.
You live, you eat, you breathe my air.
You know **** well it isn't fair,
Cause it's all mine. You've had your share.
Take one more breath, if you dare.
I'll choke you with your own **** hair
And toss your corpse, right over there.

You're not worth the time to burry,
In fact, I'll forget you in a hurry.
The main thing I never gave;
Was a **** for you, or what you could do.
*******
Taylor Smith Jan 2014
Misogyny,
The hatered, objectification, and sexualization of women

His hands were too big for my eight year old body
My stomach turned in ways I could only describe as "icky"
I screamed until I could no longer feel any breath left in my lungs
"Stop it! Please! I don't like this game. Daddy stop!"
Time slows
Seeming like an eternity
Every touch was like a sparkler
Burning while tracing the path his fingers left on my body
When he was finally done
I gathered my thoughts and prayed to God to save me
When I went to the bathroom to clean up
I saw his handwriting on the mirror
Scrawled across it was a verse saying Hell was my only destiny
My body is not a bag of bones for you to play with and the burry
Poisonous words foam from your mouth like rabid dogs You pick pieces of my pride from your teeth
You think it’s okay to mess with women
To make them feel vulnerable
Just because you have a Napoleon Bonaparte complex That does not give you the right to steal our self-esteem To make up for the lack of your own
You say “Well maybe YOU shouldn’t have worn those slutty heals,
Or that dress,
Or your hair that way.”
You say “Maybe YOU should have done something
to avoid being a target.”
You say “Stop being so disrespectful.
I just wanted to see your ****.”
You have a real flair for excuses
So excuse me when I tell you
You will regret messing with a woman like me
You see, I keep my heart strapped to my steel-toed combat boots
And an army of mistreated women of speed-dial
We will hold you captive and make our war paint from your blood
As ransom notes fall from your mouth
With the words “I’m sorry” scrawled across them I hate to break it to you
But those words won’t sew up the open wounds you left us with
When you came in to *** in and steal our innocence
The thing you don’t seem to realize is
You might have taken our innocence
But that’s not what we are made of
We consume strength for breakfast,
Courage for lunch,
Wisdom for dinner,
And guys like you for a midnight snack.
We’re not just warriors
Were survivors
What you do to us doesn't define us
Were not broken
Were beautiful
And the more I think about it
You’re just dogs chained to a tree
While I’m the person
Who’s going to put your treachery to sleep.
g Nov 2013
It was raining the Saturday I hired the carpenter, but I think it was acid rain from all the poison you let escape into your body.
He was a drunkard, and he apologized through sips of alcohol. It was the color of your blood when I found you in fits and I begged him to wash them out of the carpet, but through every sip he said your name just like the walls do.
I begged the maid to clean up the razors but she never did.
The maid came in two hours late and she didn't seem to mind my frustration. Much like you never seemed to mind when you said the right things all too late.
She swept secrets under the rugs and listened to the creak in the floorboard whenever any weight was put on this old wooden floor that reminded me so much of your weak shoulders when I needed a place to hold me.
The builder was far too early, and the maid never cleaned up in time. The builder tried desperately to rebuild the walls, but they shook at the weight of another's skin on mine, and the builder whispered "I think you need him back." I dismissed him, and the force of my door slamming (much like the force when you left that night with everything but me) was enough to destroy every wall.
Gardeners came in flustered at the work ahead of them. There were scars on my heart running up the sides like vines and it was far too thick to be cut down.
I envied the fresh dug up dirt encasing the weeds that I so badly wished would hold my body too. You see I tried to burry myself in your mind but you kept pushing me out and now the dirt is the only thing that promises certainty.
Trinity Jones Feb 2015
As the days get deeper
So does the hole

People start losing their unique ****** qualities
The objects in your house become dull clutter
Monday morphs into Tuesday and Tuesday morphs into Wednesday and Wednesday morphs into Thursday and
All of a sudden you don’t know what day it is.

The only thing that doesn’t lose its edge
Are the words that pump out from your lung,
to vibrate from your vocal cords,
then are fine tuned from your larynx,
and emanate from your articulators.
Those are the words that stuff me deeper into the hole.

Sometimes it’s not words
but actions
That burry me under and into the darkness.

This hole I speak of,
***** you in and won’t let you out
Until you’ve admitted defeat
And hell,
You’ll never live to see the day that

I, Admit Defeat.
Craig Dotti Dec 2009
Paramus? I bought a desk in Paramus. Don’t remember what it looked like.
There were ***** men outside the store. Or maybe they were Mexican?
They played a Skiffle beat as I haggled for that couch I was getting.
“When I’m dead and in my grave. No more good times will I crave.
When I die they’ll burry me deep. Way down on old Chelsea Street.”
Title was “Freight Train”.Think that one was by Nancy Whiskey You said Rutherford you’re from or Roebling?Ya, that Lonnie Donegan could sure make a song The song those Mic’s in front of the store I got the hutch at in Oradell was called “Face in the Rain”, went, “When I’m dead and in my grave. No more good times will I crave. When I die they’ll burry me deep. Way down on old Chelsea Street.” Wait what were we saying bout’ Paramus?
I mean Patterson.
GailForceWinds Jun 2015
I must smile
I must laugh
Burry away
The pain from the past

I long for the day
When the pain goes away
The past is gone
But the pain lingers on
maryJAEne Dec 2013
Tony Story
Tony killed his ol’man Ty for a whole brick
Lined’em all up and gave’em the whole clip
Said he wasn’t eatin he wanted his own ****
And not to mention Ty was ****** his Ol’*****
But Ty wasn’t a shoota, that ***** just sold bricks
And Tony he was reckless he never had no picks
Tony was like the Alpo, Ty was the Lil Rich
2 ****** with a dream that plotted on goin rich
Started as a team but Ty had got on stiff
Jealousy the reason that Ty got left all stiff
Got Tony at the viewin, Ty mom cryin to’em
He hug’er, he tell’er who ever did this he gone do’em
From there it was a silence, she aint condone violence
But they killed’er only son, so when he said it she just nodded
And he told’er that he got’er, grimey at its best, Like tony had a cold
You feel the slimey in his chest. YES! He had the nerve to carry the casket
Strapped up before he went, he had to carry his ratchet, he nervous, walkin
Like he tryna carry’em faster, ***** even grabbed the shovel tried to burry’em faster. Next week he at the mall, Rolly on his arm, 2 bad ******* with’em laughn havin a ball. Seen Ty cousin Paul, Paul couldn’t believe it. Same ***** ask’em for
A front last weekend. Walk around the mall Louie on, Bags Nimen, With the gold diggen ******* Lil Ki and Bad Trina. He dap Tony up, Tryna cap tony up, in his head he thinkin how he gone CLAP Tony up. But Tony he aint worried cause he strapped Tony up, 7 days of runnin he already turned it up. He got Pauly burnin up, he ready to Ride, He know Tony a killer, but he ready to die. AHHHHHHHHH, smell the death all in the air, Pauly thinkin bout puttin a check all on his head, but he cant, cause Tony he done killed his first cousin, if he let somebody else do it, it wont mean nothin. He wanna see’em bleedin, he wanna see’em gaspin, wanna watch’em die slow like he sufferin from cancer. Feel like Tony did it but he ont really know the answer, so he gone let it burn, until it get confirmed. Couple months fly by, Tony on the high rise, started flippin chicken now he got them chickens in like Popeye. Pauly still getting it, he always been a top guy, he aint really club but tonight he gone stop by. Seen Lil Ki & dem, it was 2 or 3 of dem, standin in the line he said ima pay for me and dem. Pulled his money out, started countin it and teasin’em, you know Ki gold diggen *** wanna be with’em. Slid up in the club told the waiter give me 3 of dem, bottles of that ***** now Ki just wanna leave with’em. He said where ya phone at? She said where you gone at? He said ima slide out, She said ima ride out. Told’er friends call yall tomorrow when I get to my moms house. They got right up outta there, took’er to his side house. Soon as they got in the crib she just blew his mind out, waisted off them bottles Pauly boy she on a nod off. But Pauly he aint goin sleep, grabb’er phone up off the sheets, took it to the livin room her messages he going through, scroll up to Tony name he text’er whatchu doin boo, she text’em back im in the crib, he text’er back you comin through, she text where im comin to? He text back 1022, Woodstock in North Philly, take the E-way to the Zoo. She said that im comin now, Look at here what Pauly found, got the drop on Tony where he live now its goin down. Couple weeks later Pauly on Woodstock, sittin in his many van, Tented with his hood cocked. Tony just rolled up Pauly got the good drop, 44 in his hand bout to make the hood ROCK. Tony slippin, Pauly all dippin, walk up on his car like what’s POPPIN lil *****. Tony lookin shocked, his glock was in his box so he couldn’t grab for it, Paul said that’s ya *** boy. He said you still need that work that you asked for, Dropped it all on his lap it was 4 in a half raw. Tony he lookin crazy he know that’s the last draw and Pauly just let it go, put its prains on the dash board. POW!
PaperclipPoems Dec 2015
Little wolf, let me tell you something. The world is an imperfect place. It is violent and cruel. You will not learn from me and my lessons, little wolf, you will learn from your own. And I could shelter you and smother you, and yet you will still learn the worst of the world.

You will love and you will be loved. You will run and you will collapse. You will hurt and others will follow you because of your bright light. That same light will attract others who want to put out your flame. But I tell you now, little wolf, they cannot. They cannot burry your soul and quit your howl. The moon will always be yours and you will always be the symbol of love and strength
Niesha Radovanic Aug 2018
my magnificent mind
has always been a gift
i am in a mystic world
filled with
lively green plants
coated with flower petals
it rained today
mother nature was sad
her and i always feel the same
a twisted funnel in our thick vines
of hair
heartache
because our earth was neglected
the wicked oder from the ocean stamps
our noses with the ink of the
red tide
an ocean of fear
the wave caps curl and burry the dead
pure envy
death is not a place
death is other people
a shoreline of psychedelic tragedy
sand castle graves
lathered in sea salt lotion
overstimulated side effects
my mother gave me the buried treasure
a chest filled with another dimension
built by her daughter
secret garden goddess
of dreams and spirituality
she gave me the key to her soul
threw the honor of mother natures
name and plant aroma
a throne of
leafs and seashell gems
skin of the earth
healing hands of garden therapy
i am my mothers daughter
i will kiss her with
cactus goo lips
as she fills my soul
with mother natures
aura
for
amara
Katlyn Orthman Feb 2013
Trapped inside
I burry the pain
Alone I hide
To disguise my shame

Burry me beneath the Willow tree
Hold your tears, do not cry for me
Cast my soul along the river
Bite your lip, do not quiver

Don't bring me flowers to show your love
I will always see from high above
Don't cry for me, many a night
For when you're blind I'll be your sight

Trapped inside
I burry the pain
Alone I hide
To disguise my shame
The Guardian Mar 2018
Thou my path I walk is bright
Sometimes I seem to forget and walk in the delicate night.
Darkness used to follow my shadow,
But now I walk with pride for I have fallen below.

Thou my path I walk is bright
Sometimes I care not for my tomorrow,
Because today be the day I burry my deepest sorrow...
Jules Bernard Mar 2013
I am alive
I am still
I am patient
I feel, and listen, and hear
But I sing of neither joy nor sorrow
I simply stand long upon this ground
My voice is the unspoken sound
In my leaves I hold many smiles
I am the web of life
The web that sustains us
Nurture me and I will hold my strong branches high
I will shade the lovers
I will lift the swinging children toward the sky
I will breath my life into your life
For I am you and you are me
Let us give comfort to each other
And burry our entwined roots
Deep into the living earth
FreeMind Dec 2018
You cant escape reality
When it hugs you like a casket
Ready to burry you deep into the ground


-FreeMind
December 1, 2018
#67
Nil P Nov 2010
Need to disconnect
Burry my past somewhere safe
To let it go now
copyright me
xx Apr 2015
The dead man's heart
Isn't beating anymore
And so does mine
Though I'm still awake
And so cold
I'm longing for a coffin
Longing for the dusk
In my home of tranquil
Dug me up from underneath
Come pull me down
Show my face from a glass
I want to get back
From where I was
Burry me alive
Burry me inside
**** my all at once
Leave this wish underground
Aladdin Aures H May 2019
The Breaking Does Not Hurt
And Blood Goes Down The Rope
In Each Part Of The Veins Sort
Feel The Chill Killing The Hope
And After All Goes The Heart
Drawing Circles Around The Map
Heart Beats To Tear It Apart
Gasping Breath Under The Lamp
Sounds Like A Show or An Art
Ends The Scenario Under A Cap

In Such Words In My Poems, The World End Thousand Of Times
Another Thousand To **** The Chant, And Burry It In Your Land

River Of Tears Under My Head
Memories Comes Back Again
As The Head Of The Thread
A Storm Drops Down The Rain
Goes Fast To Take The Lead
While The Way Goes To Lean
As Knife Clutched To My Hand
It Hits, But Does Know The Pain
Kills Me Without Mercy, Indeed
Dead But Alive, What Life Means !

In Such Words In My Poems, The World End Thousand Of Times
Another Thousand To **** The Chant, And Burry It In Your Land

Hear The Dark Sky Sending My Scream !
Lighting , To Watch Me While I Bleed
Down The Dark And Heavens Schem
To Break The Arm And The Shield
Show The World How It Would Seem

In Such Words In My Poems, The World End Thousand Of Times
Another Thousand To **** The Chant, And Burry It In Your Land

Author / Aladdin AURES H.
Graham L Martin Jan 2011
Mischief

I.

Inspiration,
The view of the screen is blurred,
The scenes blend into one another
You take every actor at action, or word
The world has taken new meaning with the veil lifted
Pages merge as Jack against Tyler
The Durden family united by gun smoke
But lies you tell yourself
They begin to show themselves
And your world falls apart
You stop seeing you
And how everyone else sees you
Can’t you see the color fading from the page?
The ink wells dry as you turn them
The stories you once loved are fading into the whiteness that destroyed you.

You are no longer the man you dreamed of being
An astronaut, a zoo keeper, psychologist,
All faded dreams, from a time when innocence reigned supreme.
What will you do with this new profound knowledge?

I walked to the same shop as I did everyday
Sipped the same coffee
Saw the same people, drank the same gin
Nothing changed, I was still dreaming.

II.

Impatience,
You walked away years ago,
Months, weeks, days, just now
But with two thousand years behind me
I will find a way to forget you!

I would say I’m Sisyphus,
But my boulder does not see peaks
An endless climb, to the stars
Does he know his efforts are fruitless?
Because I do

Smell-less smoke creeps under my door,
I will not wake for it, it is sightless as well
But if I do wake it is violent,
My juniper friend calms my hand,
I know this is wrong,
The window needs to be opened.
The gas needs to be let out.

I thought I cast you from my life
But your ******* portrait hangs above the mantel
Do I really want to forget you? Or is this the face everyone else wants?
I can’t get you to leave me alone, although you’re motionless.
You are some one else, I am still right here.

III.

Unprepared,
The news rooms only rehearsed one ending
All the papers printed victory for their man,
Everyone foresaw this victory.
Millions of papers printed,
Posters, statues, schools,
All made in his mad image.

But the papers were burned,
Statues torn down,
Printers were executed.
How dare they  


IV.

Surprise,
I see you sitting there with him.
At the café sipping tea, or coffee,
I don’t remember what you really preferred
But I take comfort knowing he doesn’t know at all

You’re both laughing and smiling
And I’m left breathless,
Upset,
Frustrated,
I know I could do it better
But you don’t know
You never will.

I was just walking to work,
And you’ve changed my entire day,
V.

Greed,
Do not be ruled by your possessions
If you spend all your time worrying about the bills
You’ll forget to use the utilities to live!
Try to own as little as possible.
It will be easier to move.
Try to die in the winter time,
Those who have to burry you,
Will remember you better.

Throw away half of your stuff,
Live without electricity or running water,
See the world.
Try new disgusting looking food.
Don’t be afraid of falling,
How will you be able to see the bottom?

IV.

Toska,
We have no word for it,
My professor warned me about that word.
Once you read it, you cannot forget
It rings in my ears a thousand times a day.
I’m sorry for damning you with it.
I meant no mischief by it.
OnigiLex May 2017
I'm sorry for loving you, more than just a friend.
I'm sorry for being a burden to you.
I'm sorry for all of the lies I have said.
But believe me, it was all because I love you.

All the times we've spent together,
That seemed like time would never end.
I'd love to do it all again until forever ends.
Though, I think you've already forgotten all of those because now, you're with her.

Although it hurts I'm used to it, I'll endure all the pain.
The memories and butterflies, I'll burry all of those.
For the sake of you and the one you're kissing under the rain.
Don't worry about me just hold her close.

This is just another unrequited love,
I'm used to it so don't worry.
Just think about her, your one true love.
And if I have to say anything else,


I'm Sorry.
1. Unrequited Love
2. I'm Sorry
Slight-
I have a slight gangster mentality-That runs so deep it’s a poetic catastrophe-Its blasphemy and a tragedy if I don’t reach levels that come after me-
So come after me-

As I rip in tongues-As I hail from the lungs-let the words by the curves be slowly un-done-
The majestic one-The poetical son-

The able no fables releasing hell and its stables till the grapple unravels-in your mind I might dabble-Have you follow like cattle-if you battle than straddle the best of your babble-Biblical proportions beat you down to the gravel-

And in your grave you’re a slave to the rhymes I convey-Time to make way-Because the wisdom has made this intellectual given-profit that’s driven-ripping and hitting-Moving and living never loosing the rhythm-rhyme with precision-Plant my feet in position-The story been written by the way I’ve been gripping-My energy’s lifting the complete non-existent-time to raise your resistance-next to me you’re a distance-Descending and defending emcees to oblivion-

Hope you been listening-The lesson is interesting-Strategically moving in-your mind I’m consuming and you soul has been looted and your conscience is loosening-I move you like puppet strings-Spit syllable’s like mixed drinks-Turn your nightmares to dreams except when you scream-Hope your systems been clean because I carry the sickest flow you ever did see-

The poetical king-The most influential of beings-Ripping through seams-The star of the scene-

And I will infest through your vest burry deep in your chest-rip your soul to a mess-always passing the test-Eliminate stress-when the labels invest in the man they call Able always causing a wreck-Broke with no checks so the ambition don’t rest-It goes for the **** so I’m taking all bets-Look up to the best-Play my life like its chess-Making moves I will never regret-always making connects with rhytmaical sets-

As I stay relevant it’s time to pay up your rent-because you whack emcees don’t see I’m hell bent-

So I’m bending and breaking your necks as I’m taking you sprit from making any type of relation-ride with me you need maintenance-battle me become patients-Your style is vacant-Your lyrics are faking-Your like rap master bating-I’m like rap *******-On every occasion-I’m the spoken word liberation-Now I will crush all whack

emcees with complete annihilation-
Stop all the playing-
Joe Allay Nov 2011
Sometimes when you feel alone
Someday that I have to go
Not Through my hands
You can't keep looking down
All the things that we have done
Coz I'll be gone someday
To the land of no return

Don't you drop a tear and drown
Close the old chapter
Face the world as it is
Coz I won't come back home

This is a world of loneliness
All the pain that arise
I can't keep this on
To the front door

And now

Don't cry for me till the day
I'm going home to the land of the angels
Burry all my past, leave it all behind
Don't you think of me
Coz I'll be gone to the land of no return

You will never see me
Lying next to you
But I'll always be there
Guiding you right through
So, don't you cry anymore
Burry all the past
Leave behind the times
That ain't gonna help

There'll be times when you feel cold
Holding down what you got
But always remember that
I'm always there with you
My spirit will guide you through
Leading you off the cold
This is a song I have written for my love ones. Yes... life is so unpredictable so I have written this for them to understand that and lead a happy life after I go. And realize all that I wanted for them is to be happy and not think about the things which will not help them.
Richie Vincent Jul 2016
Over a lifetime, I never loved her,
Empty gas tanks,
Empty cigarette packs,
Empty paint bottles,
Empty minds,
Empty hearts

I keep carrying the dead with me,
Burying them in the back of my mind to form some kind of understanding of why things are the way that they are,
Why people don't finish what they started,
Why hearts continuously ache and break at the smaller things,
Why her father never loved her mother enough to stay around to see her grow up,
At least he isn't around to see her laying in the hospital bed,
At least he isn't around to see her struggle with the thought of why her father never loved her enough

Over a lifetime, I never loved her,
This absence is dizzying,
Pitch black,
Pitch black,
Swallowed by the memories of agony,
Every moment awake is a moment my God should've never breathed into me,
My god, I never should've let your breath fill my lungs

I keep carrying the dead with me,
Burry them all, burry them all,
Give me some sense of dignity,
Don't let me slip on the souls of the broken,
Don't let me become one,

Over a lifetime, I never loved her
No Pockets on My Clothes


One Act Play

By
Alexander K. Opicho

PROLOGOMENA
For what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve,
William Shakespeare, (Twelfth night).

CASTE
1. Masika – Catholic Catechist
2. Engalamasi – wife to Masika
3. Nabutusiu – Masika’s girl child
4. Kantawala – Catholic Bishop, of Ndambasi Diocese.
5. Busolo – Area member of Parliament of Ndambasi Constituency.
6. Kasili – treasurer of the Cemetry authorities.
7. Abdulla – A muslim and neighbour to Masika
8. Wenwa – Leader of the baarefu clan to which Masika belongs.
9. Clansmen I and II, Mourners and gravediggers.
10. Diaba – Caretaker of Catholic Church houses in which Masika hails.

ACT ONE
SCENE ONE

In Ndambasi village of Western province of Kenya at Masika’s house.
Masika: (feeling Nabutusiu’s temperature, with the back of his hand) my child is very hot. It is like she is a hot iron in glowing ambers of fire.
Engalamisi: She has been as hot as that since morning. Sometimes even more than that. I am worried.
Masika: Why should you be worried?
Engalamasi: Why must I not be worried when I have already buried my two sons? I am tired of carrying pregnancies for nine months; suckle two years, only to loose my efforts to death.
Masika: I am the one who got tired before. That is why I sold the ancestral land I had inherited from my father so that we could move to a new place. But remember we lossed our two sons to death because of the evil machination of my fellow clansmen. Good luck they are no longer near to us. We are now full fledged members of the Catholic Church. Just have strong faith, Nabutusiu; our daughter will be well very soon. She will not follow a fateful suit of her two brothers.
Engalamasi: The Catholic Church cannot prevent death. I am still worried. More so we are not living in our own home, we are now in a rented house. When my two sons died it was ok, I was in my own home, I had where to hold funeral from, I had where to burry them. Unlike now, I don’t know where am going to bury Nabutusiou.
Masika: My wife! Engalamasi have the gods sent you mad? – Why are you planning to bury a girl who is not yet dead? Nabutusile only has fever.
Nabutusiu: (whining and speaking fantasia) Ooh! My head is burning. My stomach is boiling, my forelimbs are cracking away. I have seen  an old  man ………….man on the sky he is telling me. His name is wenwa….he is preparing out-door fire in three stones…..he is persuading me to go! Oho!
Masika: What!
Nabutusiu: Wenua! Wenwa! Wenwaaa!

Masika: (Leaving Nabutusile to sleep on a papyrus long chair, he covers her up with a shawl). What is worng with my clan? Why is the clan using Wenwa my cousin to finish my family?
Engalamasi: It is true; Nabutusile my child has never set an eye on Wenwa since she was born, she is only seeing him in the sky because he has spelled a curse of death against my child. He has finished her with his powerful voodoo.
Masika: Wenwa will finish a whole world with voodoo.
Engalamasi: Not the whole world, he is only keen on you. He has ever kept an owl’s eye on my house. His evil devices are all behind death of my two sons
(Enters Kantawala)
Masika: (To Kantawala) Karibu, come in your holiness.
Kantawala: Thank you, you all look not happy. What’s wrong?
Masika: Bishop, we are crying. My child, look, she is very sick and whatever verbal signs she has started to show are not good. Am struck with despair, sincerely Bishop am hopeless.
Kantawala: (stoops to examine Nabutusiu)
My daughter! My daughter! (looks up at Masika) is she sick or she is already dead! She is not breathing……her skin is stiff!.
Engalamasi: (rushes to where Nabutusiu is) Oho! She is already dead!Am now childless
(enter mourners)
Mourner I; (Wailling oin the top of the voice) what have you done girl, why didn’t you wait to die after Christman.
Mourners II: O girl! O girl! Why? Why? Young people don’t have to die.
Gravediggers I; (shouting) show me where I will dig the grave for her.
Grave digger II: (to grave digger I) style up! You want to dig the grave, have you prepared a coffin? Moreover, do you want to dig a grave in the rented compound?

CURTAINS

SCENE II
In the mid of the night, there is full moon, frogs are croaking in a choir-like sound, crickets are also singing and the distant crying of the hornbill is also heard. Wenwa is alone on an anthill dressed in wizards gear, monkey clobus and animal skin, leopard tail in his hand with a calabash bowl before him tipping the whisker into  foul liquid on the calabash, whisking around  to spread the liquid as he speaks abracadabraec words in a soliloquy.
Wenwa; (monoloque) Go! Go! Go to death you ugly young girl.
Nabutusiu, go, follow your first brother,
follow your second brother.
Follow them; follow them to the land of deaths.
Follow them quickly
As you have no business
A moving the living
Your place of abide
Is the realm of ancestors
Go! Go! To day before dawn
Sets forth, it must get you in a complete rigor mortis,
Let the fever of evil gods
Sent you mad with twaddle and fold you,
Into a pykitonic curl of death
Die, die, die Nabutusiu!

And as you die mention me not,
Nor mumble about me not
The cause of your demise
Should remain unkown,
Mumble not my name,
Nor yell not my gender
Die silently in defencellesness,
Curl yourself up like a millipede,
Open wide your eyes and
Let you breathes be curtailed,
At once and for all can you die!

Let not your mother sire,
Again and forever let her not
Have her matrix to bear
Anything else closer to a chilld
Walk away to the land of death with all those
That will come after you
Your sisters and brothers
Let them die before birth
Let them be washed away
As a ***** waste forever
In the menstrual blood
Of Engalamasi your mother
Let the spell of infertility
Take hostage your mother’s matrix
And have it all as powerless captive,
Your Mother, that ugliest beast of a woman
Engalamasi your mother let her prosper.

Let the semens of his testicles,
Be charmless and impotent
Let his ***** forever
And ever stay powerlessly limp
Like a dead pullfinch,
Like a dead young mouse
Let Masika’s ***** be balmy
In his undergarments
Let him not ***** before
Any woman, any girl
Let him forget women,
Let women detest him
And let him fear women
in a perilous nausea let him
hold all women onset,
let none  his offspring be seen
anywhere in this land,
our dear land of bareefu.

Letr not the hands
Of Engalamasi and her husband
Be productive to yield anything,
The coins in his hands must
Disappear like smoke
Let them buy nothing
Not even a rabbit
Let poverty eat them
In ruthlessness of a powerful spirit,
The curse of nakedness let it be
On your heads, Engalamasi
And your husband Masika
With  her black fingernails,
Like the claws of the eagle
The spell of foodlessness
It is full might and gear,
Should hoover their household
Let them be poorest paupers
Of the land, east and west
They should die childless
Let Masika be wifeless,
Let him ever be making cold fire
At the barren and dumb fire yard
For generations and generations,
Then let him die alone,
In the housev with his eyes
Wide open, let no one close his eyes,
as he dies.

CURTAINS


SCENE III
At Masika house, at the door yard, the cortege of dead Nabutusia in the coffin hanged on the stool. The mood is funeral like, sombre and mournful, clansmen, mourners, Engalamasi and Masika they are around, sitted at the round table on fold chairs, Mourners are Wailling, walking around the compound.

Clansman I: What is the problem with the clan of Barefu, does it mean it is nowadays blind to the problems of its own sons?
Clansman II: Who do you expect to answer you?
Clansman I: I was only thinking beyond boundaries of silence.
Engalamasi: (sobbing) what did you want the clan to do. My child is already dead; the clan has nothing to do. It can’t bring back my child to life.
Clansman II: (to Engalamasi) we already know that my dear sister –in-law. But what about the burial arrangements. The girl’s cortege has already lasted three days.
And remember it is a taboo in our community for the dead body of unmarried girl of this type (pointing at the coffin) to last for more than three days before being buried.

Masika; (chargedly) what has my girl begged from you! If her Cadavar lasts a week on the death bed before burial will it eat anything from your house? Keep your nose off from my child. She is dead but she is still mine.
Clansman I: Masika! You are an elder. The clan does not expect such a wind of words from the mouth of an elder like you.
Masika: Don’t tell me about your clan.
Clansman I: My clan?
Masika: What did you hear?
Clansman I: What I have just heard from you my brother, is not what I have ever dreamed of in my life. The clan can not be mine alone. It is our clan. One man cannot make a clan.

Masika: I stopped being a man of the clan. I am now a man of the church. The Catholic Church is my clan. It is my brother, it’s my sister, and it is my cousin. Nothing else, so don’t tire my ears with
Clansman II: Brothers, we are all mourning. And mourning has no rules and regulations. Let my brother Masika mourn his daughter Nabutusiu in any manner. His grieve is triggered by history of his experience with the clan.
Clansman I: But it is folly to reject your clan. What can one be without the clan?
Engalamasi: (sobbing) But what can be the clan if it glorifies in death of its people?
Clansman I: (to Engalamasi) my sister-in-law are you connotating the role of voodoo in the death of your daughter.
Masika: A thievish dog always cowardly bark when an old woman waves her cooking stick.
(Enters Kantawala)
Kantawala: My presence is very brief, because am to attend to a bigger funeral of one of our well-to-do Catholic faithful who passed away three days ago.
Gravedigger I (To Kantawala) you mean there is big funeral and small funeral?
Kantawala: What will you call the burial ceremony of a man with four wives, thirty sons and twenty of them are senior officers in the army? even one of them is a Catholic chaplain with the Keya Army Battalions in Sierria Leorne.
Gravedigger I: I will call it bigger funeral.
Kantawala: Yes, and even for your information, more gravediggers are needed there.
Clansman II: Let’s put a side the differences between bigger funeral and small funeral. Let the Bishop tell us his message.
Kantawala: Yes, that is true; I want to ask Masika how far he has gone with the burial arrangement of his daughter. Because the church leaders have only allowed  two days for him to stay with a dead body in the church compound.
Clansman I; (To Masika) How far have you gone with the burial arrangement my brother?
Masika: (To Kantawala) but Bishop…… Bishop…………. Bishop…………
Kantawala: Don’t take things lightly. Kindly remove the dead body from the compound of the church (walks away).
Clansman I; (to Masika) who told me that you are also a Catechist of that church?
Masika; (fearfully) I am a Catechist
Clansman II: Where did you take the money you were paid when you sold your ancestral land?
Engalamasi: (sobbing) what is now all these, doesn’t Bishop Kantawala know that my husband is a Catechist? That my dead daughter was baptized in this church? (She joins mourners, wailing) .
Gravediggers I and II: let us go, we are late for somewhere. But you can sent someone to call us when you are ready for grave digging.

(CURTAINS)

SCENE IV
In Wenwa’s house, Wenwa is dressed in a rain coat, and rubber gum boots, sitted on a papyrus chair playing a banjo, the base is most audible.

Wenwa: (playing a banjo and singing)
Gods of my land and our peole
You are great and marvelous
In your generousity, you gave,
To myself the most magnarimous heart;
Whoever that has never eaten form my palms
May be that one we haven not met
I have fed all people,
A thousand fold food ----seekers,
From my granaries, my baskets,
I extol and exult you gods
Might gods of my land
For the genuine heart
You gave to me fathomless,
Out of all the sons and daughers
Of this clan of ours,
The heroic clan of Barefu.
(Enters Busolo and Kasili)

Busolo: I love your songs they are nice and good.
Wenwa: Thank you, thank you a lot our leader. It is me who has to appreciate your coming to my house. Kindly have your sits (showing them where to sit as he puts aaside the Banjo).

Kasili (sitting) let me sit near the door, I am having some flu. I have to be going out to cough. You know.

Wenwa: it is not a matter my dear elder.
Busolo: (Taking out a cigarette) Wenwa let me sent you to bring me fire please; even if you are my knife-mate, my ‘Bakoki’.
Wenwa: Feel at home Bakoki, this house is as good as your own, (he disappears into the inner chamber and comes back with a glowing amber) Take it carefully my Bakoki, (handing the amber of fire to Busolo).
Kasili: Busolo, you could have brought a matchbox, these ambers of yours can soil hands of mhenshiwa.
Busolo: (blowing out ciggarrete smoke) fire is fire it doesn’t matter the source. Moreover ambers are good in saving energy (gives the amber back to Wenwa)
Wenwa: Has it burned the cigarette?
Busolo: Yes
Wenwa: (Taking back the amber) Good, I wanted that (comes back after throwing the amber at fireyeard at the inner chamber).
Busolo: Am now ok, than when I was coming in. I was getting suffocated of an urge to smoke.
Wenwa: Bakoki, you are right, there is no painful thirsty like that one of need for smoking. It is more harsh than an urge for alcohol.
Busolo: Very true
Kasili: What about an urge for Marijuanna?
Wenwa: Let me come back to answer you (disappears into the inner chamber, comes back with a kettle and mugs).
Kasili: You can now answer
Wenwa: (setting for Busolo and Kasili the mugs, pouring tea for them).
You know what, there is nothing as stupid as developing a habit of consuming Marijuanna. My brother here, my cousin brother you all know, he is none other than Masika. He began consuming Marijuanna. He also encouraged his wife Engalamasi to do the same. Bakoki, I want to confirm to you that the **** affected them badly. They began giving birth to undersized children, children that are as small as a shoe of a woman. The kids have been dying after a month, two months or so. Masika has now sold away his land at a throw away price. He again had to spend all the money received from selling of his land on Marijuanna. Bakoki, as we are talking now, Masika is a destitute of land. He now pretends to be a follower of the Catholic Church.
Busolo: (shaking his head), I now understand.
Wenwa: You better understand (stands to peep out) you are not taking tea, why?
Kasili: We are talking as we take.
Busolo: Now tell us, who bought the land?
Kasili: How big was the land? If I can ask before you give an answer to the question of your Bakoki.
Wenwa: Elders, your questions can even make me shed tears. My brother, that man; Masika and his wife Engalamas.uhm! Sold away two acres of ancestral land to a foreigner. To a person who cannot speak a single word of our language. People come here to mock me that our worthiness clan has lost land to a Somali others say he is a very rich Kikuyu.
Kasili: You want to fell me that Masika sold land of the clan to a Kikuyu man?
Wenwa: Where have your ears gone my fellow elder? The land is already gonie to the Kikuyus!
Kasili: Eheee! (tapping) his lap. Then I can also confirm that Marijuanna is bad.
Wenwa: Why not? Why not? What else can Marijuanna do to a man?
Busolo: (clearing tea from his mug) how can we help such a man now?
Kasili: (pushing a way a half empty mug). Am ok, I had already taken some tea at my home.
Wenwa: (to Busolo) to help him with what? Bakoki, such people should be allowed to chew the full size of their foolishness.

Busolo: What I mean is that helping him to bury his dead daughter.
Wenwa: Which daughter is dead?
Busolo: I don’t know the daughter, but I think he has been having a daughter who died four days ago. It’s Kantawala the bishop who told me.
Kasili: The girl is called Nabutusiu.
Wenwa: Nabutusiu is dead?
Busolo: Yes, Nabutusiu is dead
Wenwa: (laughing extensively) Masika will bury Nabutusiu in Marijuanna, no one told him to sell away his land, if not his ***** foolishness.
Kasili: This is not a laughing matter. In fact we came to consult with you, so that the site of buri
Under the rain is where I burry all the pain,
within your smile is where my happiness
I can gain
Gabriel Bonney Oct 2018
I'm better today than I have been
But I can't expect it again to happen
Lately it's been worse than it has in a while
But I know it's just my faith under trial
I've been tested like a ship at sea
The winds and the waves have come to suit me
But I won't let the ocean pull me asunder
Gravestones won't burry me and take me under
In time I know I'll recover
Recently I've been worse than I usually am
I wonder if I've chosen it
Or if I can choose not to think this way--
How to undo it if I can
I know the night will come again
But to play a part in the dark will not happen
I can't choose every moment to live in the day
Even if I tell myself to think that way,
The feeling won't stay
One day I will get over this wall of stone
Though I know I'm so far from home
For now, I am fighting to reach the morning light
One day, I know, I will leave behind this night
I don't think we can just choose not to be sad. I believe you can be depressed and still have joy. I believe you can be joyful and still be suicidal. You can know God's truth, but that won't chage what's in your head. But in time, it will. Through continual trust in obedience, surrendering your faith to God day by day, things will get better. It'll be rough, it'll be a daily battle, but we have a hope, a promise that Christ has overcome the struggles of this world, and He will get you through. He has a life planned out for you, a good, pleasing, and perfect plan for your life. As long as you continue to fight, things will get better :) I promise!
When I die burry me in a poem
I am six foot six so make
My poem seven foot long

Make it from rich azure tales of Arabian nights
Make it's walls strong to protect
My remains from a Poe's delight

Rest my head on a pillow of silken vowels
Line the walls with chiffon
And wolfen howls

Place inside the words of my poems
Lest I be presumptuous
Under my tongue a copper coin

Lest they forget , leave the calendar of my last living date
So I can ponder how fragile life is
Death a certain fate

Finally , bury me six syllables deep
I pray , that my poems
For them to keep
Jay M Wong Mar 2014
A seagulf drifts amongst the shining blue ocean waves,
For beneath such currents holds but drowning graves,
Of fearless sailors who upon thy majestic ship held,
The knots of greatsome strengths, oh hath spelled,
For but may knots interleave not for eternal might,
As what once was dearest may drift apart tonight,
Thus dearest friendships may be, but a knot of a sailors hand,
For close bounds may last some time, for until thy ship lands,
Where now, what close hath drawn closer to lesser a’dear,
And’st burry what past friendships shall forsakenly fear,
For may friendships be but knots, for when untied can he,
Holds such distant strands for end to end may’st interleave,
May broken bonds of broken knots seek’st thy savior.
Until what once tied, shall tie again the sailor.
But oh, may such bonds repair with such grace and ease,
Shall such unspoken friendship rest appease,
For old mates of friends may come again,
But tie’st the ankles to the distant chains,
For hath neither souls seen in years a’last,
May dearest friend be as dearest as thee past.
A poem on the hope of repairing past friendships.

— The End —