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Alyssa Underwood Jan 2016
I would have taken the easy path
But that would leave no room for glory
I would have picked out a comfortable life
But that isn't God’s kind of story

I would have followed a prettier road
But missed the most beautiful way
I would have clung to familiar things
But lived out my days in the grey

I would have chosen what’s stable
But grown cold, apathetic and bored
I would have sought out earth’s riches
But lost all that in heaven is stored

I would have liked more successes
But not learned so quickly of grace
I would have seen myself praised more
But given up knowing God’s face

I would have tied all my loose ends
But not known it’s He Who brings peace
I would have wanted for happier times
But traded a joy that can’t cease

I would have opted for normal
But not tasted rare delicacies
I would have preferred a man’s love
But been robbed of Divine intimacy

He’s chosen for me the high road
More jagged, more narrow and steep
So now I must travel this difficult way
Ever knowing it leads to the deep

Now I must choose to cherish His path
And trust Him to walk with me there
Now I must hasten to take up my cross
The fellowship of His sufferings to share

For one day this life will be over
And all my afflictions will end
It is then I will see what all this is for
In my Bridegroom, my Savior, my Friend
~~~

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
~ 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

~~~
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
He sat by a furnace of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore.
And closer He bent with a searching gaze,
As He heated it more and more.

He knew He had ore that could stand the test
And He wanted the finest gold,
To mold as a crown, for the king to wear,
Set with gems of price untold.

So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho’ we fain would say Him "nay."
And watched the dross that we had not seen
As it melted and passed away.

And the gold grew brighter and yet more bright,
But our eyes were dim with tears,
We saw but the fire, not the Master’s hand,
And questioned with anxious fears.

Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow
As it mirrored a form above,
That bent o’er the fire, though unseen by us
With a look of ineffable love.

Can we think it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment's pain?
Ah, no! But He sees through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.

So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure.
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat
Than was needed to make it pure.

~ A.F. Ingler
~~~
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
O Prize of heaven, Treasure of my heart
Let me suffer, if only I may seek Thee
Let me fail, if only I may find Thee
Let me give up all, if only I may gain Thee
For Thou and Thou alone art the Prize
"I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.  Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."
-Philippians 3:10-14
jules May 2018
she had flaked away her memories
and stepped up
with a ponderous heart,
held by two gentle hands;
and saying goodbye, did she,
as she slipped off her skin,
for the moment blood stains
the kumari's tender soul,
bereaved, will she become,
for a goddess never bleeds.

her feet shall never touch
the tattered, naked ground,
for it engulfs and devours
and burns off the kumari's flesh.
holding her pure spirit, and
  accepting a cruel death sentence,
her quivering soul
cupped but a glimmer of hope,
as the fire would flicker
and lash and whip
as her skin flakes again,
and the kumari vanishes.

but, if she remains unscathed,
blood shall be drawn,
and the gods will tremble and
her body will collapse.
the world will consume her
once again.

a kumari's blood,
drawn, now at death,
trembling and alone,
had she sobbed tears of joy,
for no longer the weight
must she bear in her heart,
of being a kumari;
but a kumari is she,
and the world has not chose her,
but she has chosen to be.

she had withered away,
heart no longer ponderous,
she stepped up.
and her wishes from within
passed on to the fearful others,
held by two gentle hands, and
with a gentle flutter of her eyes,
next to her charcoal stained skin,
had her heart stopped;
for her bejeweled crown had been stained with blood,
and the kumari realized that
she had died long ago.
i worked really ******* this
Hadiy Syakir Nov 2017
So you want
to solve a mystery?
tell me, tell me
with all honesty

"Do you want to solve a mystery?"

I could tell you all the pain
darkness, sorrow, eruption
of eternal gloom
but we will become
nothing less than just
dust in this room
our souls will collide
as if there is no end to it
our bones will crumble
one by one,
shoulder to waist
waist to toe
oh, this is all just for a show!

the suffering, the awakening
give me a run for the money
rain on my parade
I know nothing but
we are all slowly sinking.

Mystery, mystery
what good will that bring?

So if I ask you,

"Do you still want to solve a mystery?"

What will you pry
out of your lovely cemetery?
Nereo Cafolla Jul 2018
Over the icy hills you hear a breath;
As this field sinks in the frigid blue
It spreads in the soul a fear of death.
The hope to return still lives in you.

How can you be so blind not to see?      
That even your worst foe could be      
                  
Your best friend behind these lines.       
A scream drowns in the darkness,
Now he is rotting as the moon shines.
There are no heroes in this grey mess.
Is it worth to waste human meat?
What is victory but a lucky defeat?
RK Aug 2018
Even in the depths of medication and depression she saw a glimmer of light , She must have! I knew her children meant everything to her. Her husband held fort, through thick and thin and I witnessed him. We helped him at times when he too was worn down, visiting his wife in hospital, tme after time, after time...

He couldn't go to work, not for a long time. The nature of her depression so black, he made sure his children were protected, fully engaging with the important issues in life.   Loving care, being present, showing strength at his best.

He managed on social welfare, knowing well what  his priorities were.  He took them to school, their lunch boxes filled with nourishment. The main ingredient being love. And he collected them too, with a loving smile and huge hug.

I felt so proud of him.

And in school they did well,
a straight A - in every subject.  In the later years they went to university, and excelled beyond excellence. He was always right beside them. Finding the way whatever way he could.

I felt so proud of him.

It was depression that stole her beautiful soul. We did our best to lift her, and we did.  We saw the best in her,  And she knew we cared and loved her.  Later she took a stoke that fully paralyzed her.

He continued to care for her at home. Even when his own health failed he tarried on and he prayed that God take her, before him. He was amazing!  When I'd ask him how he was doing, his  eyes would tell me, but his words said;  ”oh! I'm just fine”
And I so admired him.

The Elegy...
Their son spoke in soft loving words about his Mother's life and the goodness of his father care.

" If I can be half the man my dad  is...

Half the father my father is ...

Half the husband my father is ...

Then I am blessed”

And in the silence, you could hear a pin drop!

Peace
Thank you for reading. I'm doing my best to see all sides of life and death. And I feel writing is cathartic .
Peace
Osiria Melody Feb 14
It is I, who is shaken by the subliminal
lies said through your eyes
Which are unfaithful to the truth
I'd rather feign my sadness, lest my
existence disturbs you
Drown me in my apprehensions, a
labyrinth of my fragmented ego
Savor my tears, for I have cried enough
to **** my pride
Yet, it is I who is still shaken
My dearest friend, lover

I do not know how to mourn by the river
Taking my soul, all torn and withered
No one can tell me where I lie
Standing upon my ground, goes awry
Hastily making the gravest mistakes
My heart trembles, never quakes
Such tender darkness, so trivial
Makes my voice come alight through my upheavals

Oh, tell me if my fears mean nothing
Throwing my tears against an unknown something
Only burns, the reprimanding light of day
Night, only sense of freedom, in shape
Thunderous words strike my being
Negative washes do cleaning
To breathe is to draw in one less breath
To speak is to utter one less regret

I don't know how to mourn by the river
Drawing me in, my faults come hither
Relentless suffering that visits my head
I wish something else could visit me instead
I don't know how to mourn from the river
Secret despondence, my only killer
My dearest friend, lover
Show me how to mourn by the river



Melody
2/14/19
Grief is like a river which ebbs and flows.
Aryeh Levine Jun 2018
There is no shortage of mystery here
For us, conceived in dying suns
There is no shortage of mystery here
For tiny dancing 0's and 1's

There is no shortage of suffering
Everything is being eaten
there is no shortage of suffering
In our mind's eye only, we see Eden

But there is no shortage of mystery
simple matter makes minds melt
There is no shortage of mystery
The holy spirit is matter felt

We suffer for no reason
And for the same reason, we play
For everything, there is a season
But it doesn’t always work that way

Behold the world is stranger still
Are you sure you know enough to worry
You have not begun to understand
If you are not a ball of tears and fury

And you have not begun to finish
Until your laughter fills the air
There is a field beyond our minds
And I will meet you there
Morgan Mercury Aug 2013
From the beginning
we were born to die.
There is no starting over.
There are no second chances.
With death carved on our skin
how could we live a normal life?

You could run but you'll one day run out of breath.
It's just a game.
You hide your pain and sorrow.
Save it for another day
when everything just falls apart and you can't pick it up.

Medicine and alcohol keeps you awake
As you hunt your demons and monsters.
You could choose to die but then this world would fall apart.
You give others that second chance,
you give them time to run and escape
while you slaughter their monsters,
and **** their demons instead.

You've got blood on your hands
and a soldier's heart.
Your brain is beautiful
just corrupted.
You smile to stay strong
and your humor hides your internal scars.

In the end
you'll look back on your youth
and notice you died a long time ago.
You never had the chance to be happy.
You'll never know the feeling of growing old with your lover
because all your lovers are either buried below your feet,
or somewhere up in the sky with the stars.
It's not that far,
one day you'll be with them.
Then, you'll finally be able to rest your tired hands.
Supernatural
Sam & Dean Winchester
Krish Raj Jul 8
I will be free, Papa said.
No more tummy growls, Mama said.
I won't be sick often, Papa said.

I can dream, Mama said.
School I can go, Papa said.
Stars I can reach, Mama said.

Land of plenty, Papa said,
Cats have toys, Mama said.
Dogs sleep on beds, Papa said.

Don’t drag my Papa, I begged.
Don’t take my Mama, I cried .
Inside a cage my tears dried.
Family seperation at border
B L Mar 2013
Mother Mary, Mother Mary, whisper in my ear.
Give me something tangible to touch –
Something audible to hear.
Send me a sign, so I know I am alive
I want to know it is not in vain that I let this world inscribe
This mark upon my soul. Give me a sign to make me whole.
Help me find peace through the chaos.
Just let me know you’re in control.

Mother Mary, Mother Mary, whisper in my ear.
I know each breath could be my last –
Yet, my death I do not fear.
I’ve been shackled by my questions
And I’ve watched them as they’ve grown.
I searched endlessly for answers –
When all along I should have known
That the answers I seek are not ones that can be found.
So I pray that you’ll whisper. I pray I’ll hear the sound.
I pray that death holds more than what we bury in the ground.

It’s been nearly twenty years, and somehow I still have faith.
But I fear the truths I know are lies; I fear that virtue is a waste.
Still, I wait for your whisper, Mother Mary, Mother Mary.
Despite how much I’ve suffered; this burden I still carry.
Because I trust this world holds reason.
I trust my struggle wasn’t worthless.
Mother Mary, Mother Mary, I pray I suffer for a purpose.
Tony Oquendo Aug 2014
I took your hand and held your pain
close to my heart whispered your name
and shared your joy while all the while
consoling the sorrow behind your smile
A reflection on true friends who don't need to comment, criticize or judge.  Who will laugh while you laugh and all the while hold close your pain and never let you go.
Ralou Babiss Oct 2018
Hey dear lady, what are u caring in that big suitcase?
Hey little child, I am caring some pain.
Oh, I thought it was full of candies and toys for me to play.
No little kid. There's no candies inside.
Hey lady with the pain, can you tell me what pain is?
Hey little kid. Pain is something that makes big people like me feel little like you.
Is this what everyone is caring inside their suitcases when going to work?
Mostly yes..
Oh, ok then. Thanks lady with the pain. I hope your pain is not too heavy so I can still see you around caring the suitcase.
Ok child, goodbye..
Martin Dove Oct 2018
I had no idea how terrible it all was
Until I matured a bit and opened my eyes
It cleared the mist that I often now miss
From the eyes of an unwilling devil
Seeing the tragedy unfold from a first-person level
I remember it all from that god awful view
The bad things I’ve done, over which I had no control
The outcomes I hoped with the manifestation of some
Who am I kidding - I’ve been among a fortunate few
Except for the fact that life dealt me an ace with a ****** *****
Not quite like anyone - an outcasted sole
With depressive thoughts - eating them straight from the bowl
Until euphoria strikes - then I’m a lightning bolt
These emotional storms - they strike me as cold
Who am I to cry and complain about life
Everyone is united by the suffering light
The random subscription to a life with a set rhythm
If only I could command my heart not to wither
The Dybbuk Apr 2018
I grip the barbed wire that I use a rein,
For this beast of a world that I cannot yet tame,
I grit my teeth and I hold my breath,
The name of my lover is death.
I kneel in the salt as I am abused,
With cables and whips, yet I am amused,
Blood hits the floor, and I smile at the stain,
The name of my lover is pain.
I spit out the words that I hear in my soul,
Reciting them from this internalized scroll,
I gather my demons and open the gate,
The name of my lover is hate.
Janelle Tanguin Feb 2017
Before everything

i. I never knew four letters could melt
menthol candy-like, hydrochloric acid on my tongue
and keep burning it in different degrees
I had to swallow back.

ii. That there would come a time
I'd have to baptize the pain in my chest like seasons
robbing me lungfuls
on January, September and December nights.

iii. That my blood was really ink I needed to stop using
before my skin turned paper-like.

iv. That my heart had an epicenter pumping a magnitude of earthquakes
that made me tremble helplessly in its intensity;
and that they were man-made calamities
followed by harsh, heavy, whipping tsunamis
to flood my grave of bleeding, jagged fault lines.

v. That aftereffects lasted longer than treatment itself,
and that I didn't need any professional diagnosis to know
I was terminal
from the same drug that made butterfly-strokes in my veins,
whose arms withheld the only elixir to this malady.

vi. I named my sickness, my pain, my agony like orphaned children, after you--
a rare disease
the doctors didn't even know about yet.

vii. I did and I doubted
but a part of me beat signals
that echoed off the cave walls of my skull
that I knew.

viii. Before everything,
I have been warned
but I chose to listen to the soothing, wrong, hopeful voices
"He means no harm,".

ix. You began spreading like an epidemic-- a tumor to a colony of cells all over me-- until I became you;
a reflection of familiar suffering and mortality, slowly withering away.
In the end, I didn't even have you to blame
for letting me overdose from intakes
of my own ****, bitter medicine and unforgivable mistakes.

x. I guess, this was how you wanted the price to be paid.
Whittney May 2018
Your death caused a fracture in the foundation of the family
Trying to tie a tourniquet above the gaping hole isn’t an option
We all tiptoe around the pools of blood, but it still sticks to our sneakers.
Weighed down
by the world’s
burden
honest eyes only perceive hope of a better earth, beyond the infallible burning

Dwelling within a premature space
reality isn’t what it
seems
years upon years of confounding lies & schemes

Phantoms and apparitions of the fallen
the only thing piecing together the shattered earth that is
falling

How long will the fog of
falsehood
blind us to reconnecting as a
brother & sisterhood

How many of us have to
bleed
the same number of us who
screamed
when our reality came dropping down from where aloft we kept our dreams


Please, please, oh please

How long will it take us to see.
Alisha Shibli Apr 2017
There is a feeling inside my heart that’s hard to explain
A hole, an empty void
Whose presence I feel strongly

Having nothing can hurt deeply
It’s a feeling that ******
And doesn't stop pricking

Where will you run?
To failure, guilt, and hurt?
The emptiness will follow like a shadow

Sometimes you'll use words to let it all out
Other times everything will go numb

But the feeling of emptiness stays
Silently screaming
Asking to be filled

You ask how
It says figure out
The cycle is exhausting
So you quietly close your eyes
Hoping to escape from it all for a while
After all tomorrow is another day
And the sun might shine
Deadwood Jawn Nov 2018
This one's for her.

She is in tremendous danger.

She is near the tidal wave of calamity.

It is powerful. Ruthless. This creature..
This creature takes no prisoners.
"Stand before me and let me see the life leave your eyes!"
It will prey off her anguish.
Her suffering.
Her weaknesses.
Her lack of will to act.
Her use of time.
This monster of despair will strike.
He will wound.
He will maim.
He will slash her wrists.


And she will recieve several lashes.


Her face will be disfigured.
Her arms will be blackened.
Her legs will shatter.
Her fingers will be broken.
Her smile will disfigure.
Her posture will bow.

The being provides one bittersweet affliction though:
It promises she will see again.
Oh how the woes will be great!
She will be able to see.
See the destruction.
The vivid sunshine of wrath upon her.
"No..."
Indeed.. The night will surround her.
She will bring forth the waterfall from her windows to the soul.

Pray thee tell!
What measures can be taken to prevent the suffering to come?
The lamentations from my heart will be sincere.
It is truly not far from me.
An unbearable sight.
Watching the helpless victim fall to her knees.

TEAR APART
SHRED APART
COLLAPSE
DISINTEGRATE
VANISH
EXPLODE
CYCLONE
TSUNAMI
DEATHB­LOW
SEVER
ANARCHY.

Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord.
Discord.
Discord.

Discord.
Discord. Discord. Discord.
Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord.
Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord.
Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. Discord. 











Discord.
Written during a time of deep sadness for a close friend.
You speak of my frustrations
in memories aloft
High as I was in the sky,
so as low will be my drop

In most of days I long for you,
and in most I feel the weight
of the pain that sears and scorches through
my arteries and veins

How long, how long shall your stare remain  
to torment my heart and soul?
The hades of which now fills my mind
had once felt much like home

and now I hide in solitude
from suffering and from pain
To escape the toils of loving you
To sleep and never wake again.
I waited too long
to mow my lawn
biopsy my lung
yet lived long enough
however long is long.
Whatever. It's not wrong
to count along
while busy living. Sing
and stay strong
absorb the sun's photons
and store them in yr bones.

Those bones
outlast slights and wrongs
are white as lightning and strong
as sticks and stones.
Inside is one's
spirit, soul, the nameless one
the one that's never known.
It has no cell phone
can't communicate or even moan.
Therefore. Why complain?
Have some fun.

Soon
I'll be undone
underground
my garden burned
down. So what. John Donne
died and so did Milton.
Emerson too, and Whitman.
Get over it. Vote. Love. When
the train comes in the station
whistle with it, wish on
stars with passion
or careful hesitation.
Anything's fine, within reason.

Season by season
things get done.
Algebra and calculus, Malcolm X, George Washington.
No taxation
without representation.
A gun
in every den.
People will be governed
one way or another, by a king
or trusted friend. Corporation.
Men
are more disposed to suffer, while Evils are sufferable,
than to right themselves by abolishing the Evils to which they are accustomed.

I'm too young
to die! I cry. My generation
cannot outrun the sun
but I want to see what happens
next, a tsunami or tornado, rain
and wind beyond our comprehension
hit in the head by speeding debris, irony
of ironies! plastic contraptions,
rotting computers and yogurt cups, pain
in the baby! Moment's
notice. None,
I notice,
live long
enough to see the end. A billion

years hence
human sense
has so modified and mutated under
some other sun
we share one mind
and everything's remembered by everyone.
Look it up. There is no death, just perfect rest. A perfect tan
is possible, and work is fun.
I'm going there when I pass on
because souls will travel at warp speeds, using nuclear fission.
About suffering, religion
was right (and wrong) all along.
www.ronnowpoetry.com

--U.S. Declaration of Independence
Menna grace Apr 2018
Cherry and red wine
near mountains, under the sky
life is brighter but not kinder somehow
under this tiny blueness
I write down my feelings
may it reach to the seventh sky
O dear whoever you are
you should know that
I need her
I need her more than the earth needs the sun
since the day my hands touched hers
I'm still drunk somehow

love is suffering I confess
it never meant happiness and that's the way it is
but I would choose suffering over happiness
because through hell
I will find my heaven
through hell
I will find my heaven
and I will find her.
YH Sep 2018
I realize I am too compassionate;
I feel everything at a 100% rate,
and I loathe it so much.
Why do they come on so strong all the time;
it mentally drains me.

I am destined to die early;
I can't see myself living past my mid-thirties.
I learn how to accept death as it is,
and I am slowly learning how to let go.

I want to cry, I want to scream;
I want to voice out this indecipherable torment inside of me.
But no one will understand,
and no one will know;
this mask of mine can't be taken off.

It is what I desire,
yet I want to scream the truth out to the world;
my alternating flow of thoughts,
my constant battle;
it goes down with me to the grave.

This happiness is an illusion;
There's a second mind that takes over,
and blocks away all of the hopelessness.
It brings forth a temporary elation,
a nonchalance,
a pretentious ease.

Is this better?
Does it make me better?
Or does this delude me to the point
where I become more destructive
and cause more harm than cure?

Why does my mind run so much?
Why does this version of me exist?

Because I am born empathetic.
Because I am human.
Because I hold a great understanding of myself,
and a greater awareness of how I am.

But not behind in the how it came to be.

No one holds the answer, and I am forever left with questioning all these endless why's and how's.

Everything else is left unanswered

perhaps until the day I die.

— Y.H.

the end of the tunnel,
gentle fervor.
my mind drifts sometimes
as though it's sinking deep into the abyss of water
sometimes i'm afraid it sinks so far
that it never comes back up to the surface again
that i would never see the light another time

but maybe there never was a light
and i've been sinking all this while
further, and further
and the sight of light was only once in a dream

(c) Y.H.
venn Jul 2015
A feeling I never thought I'd feel,
But here I am, writing a poem about you

Do you think about me, too?

You're always on my mind,
Even more than the ticking of the clock is
Because you know I'm always really excited to get home
So I can talk to you without glancing up every second
To see if the teacher's looking

But at the same time,
Thinking about you makes me think about
How scared I am of losing you

My number one fear has always been losing people,
And it's happened so many times, over and over again

It's a vicious cycle, and losing you might just do me in.

I can't breathe without you,
But even when I'm with you,
My breathing is labored

Because how do I stay calm
When I'm hanging off of the edge of this cliff you dangled me over
(Unintentionally, of course)

My heart is pounding in my chest,
no peace, no rest,
and as much as I love you,
the fear of losing you is something I'll never be able to overcome

The fear of dropping to my doom is something
I will never be able to forget

As much as you comfort me in my time of need,
That fear always sneaks back

Hiding under my bed like the Boogeyman,
And I start to wonder, 'Is it worth it?'

Yes. Yes, it is.

It will always be worth it.

Because the fear I feel of losing you is much less damaging
Than the suffering I feel without you
MJL May 15
Watching, I sat beside her
She again lay trapped under her killer
It was Saturday
And it was feeding time
The animal had hold of her neck, once more
It's jaws in a lazy grasp
A soft furry paw resting on her chest
No strength required to hold her in place
Claws deep in her failing will
Making it difficult for her to talk
To breathe
Nevertheless, she tried
With the occasional wheeze
She managed to share another story of a good life
A love "ever lasting"
Rich like angel food cake topped with fresh strawberries
She was thankful
But her pain was distracting
We ignored it, together
We played make-believe, together
For another day
Some visits were better than others
The beast lounging in a tree at the back of her enclosure
Watching us
Other days, smothering her
Reminding us, he is allotting the time we spend
He is in charge
My advice, to give 'em hell
Ridiculous to say from the comfort of her high back chair
Looking away to her hand knitted doily under her chai cup
Protected behind my viewing window
I know
She’s tired
And the taker of life is more than strong
He's inevitable
The sun will rise tomorrow
And it will set
Sunday will bring relief
Sunday will bring sadness
And a step nearer to peace
As our warm tea grows colder
Cancer, and the pain it causes... Glad for another day. Sad for the pain.
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