Genial to avoid confrontation
Baseborn kind, complaisant character
A spurious recital, a cheap imitation
Apocryphal mind, and comical creations
An unholy effusion
Sons of Belial
Clutch arcane knowledge
Delve into oracular verse.
Recondite belief denuded denials
Portentous and abstruse
Divested of the truth
Traveled day after day
Seriatim in miles
Strangled in hyperbole
Do what art wilt
Deliver the chosen
Derision to the destined
To learn love over hate
Adoration to inculcate
Imbue their sick lessons.
Notes: I am putting the notes upfront, suicide is no laughing matter, however, anything that makes it something that can be discussed I think is a good thing. Humor really is an aid to many an illness. Note the poem starts with a reason, when someone is at the point of suicide, there is NO reason. It is an illness like any other. Also inside humor and innuendo is meaning. Enough said.
I went to the casino of love last night
I placed a bet on romantic seven
Lost all my chips, ain’t going to heaven
Broke me heart
Lowered head, I walked back to the car park
Next morning I woke up
Put a gun to my head
I can’t even win at Russian roulette
Need a change, to get away
Mending the pain or soul, some might say
Took a plane to Bengal
Ended up in beuruit
Walked right into the middle of a war or 2
Explosions all over, around me head
Thank god, soon I shall be dead
I saw a terrorist with a real mean look
I waved hello, shoot me, shoot me!!!
I am sure he would have given a chance
But someone else tossed into him a lance
Seems even in a war I can’t make myself dead
Sadly I lost at even this deadly dance
Then an explosions tossed me sky high
Was i going to heaven, was this my grand demise?
No, I landed in the sea and just on time
For a cruise ship to save me, soul and all
Off too Florida it seems
Death sure has some gall
I was walking along a sunny beach
When all of a sudden two gangs appeared
One Cuban, one Mexican, they sure looked mean
Two gangs known as killing machines
Here is me smack in the middle
My lucky day, for how could I lose
Suicide was assured, come on, you know it
I yelled to both of them
I am DEA, and I think all of you queers are very very gay
That out to get me the bullet I wish
What the hell, they all dropped their guns and surrendered
I admit I was starting to be mighty offended
So now I have this Medal of Honor
For saving a community of drugs and plunder
I just can’t win at the casino of life
I can get myself killed no matter the plight
So back home I go
What the hell
I’ll fill the bathtub
And give that a go
You think I’m bragging or boasting of death
I am serious, this will work, why drowning for sure
What could go wrong? with such a fine plan?
All I want to be is a dead dead man
So yes, I fill up the tub with water and suds
I down some pills, some booze and some bud
I am drifting off, to my purgatory bliss
When I hear an alarm the wakes me
What’a darn bitch
The buildings on fire, ok I can burn in my sorrow
Except the bathtub collapses and doses the fire
I am a loser, this is for sure
They gave me Medal of Honor again
For saving all the seniors by making it rain
I am not dead, and I am not happy
Seems I can’t accomplish
Even my death
Even this task I make a mess
Now I am curious, I have to ask
Have any readers killed themselves yet?
This tale that’s a mess, being alive is giving me stress
If not read on, it’s gonna get better
Someone I will succeed at this suicidal adventure
OK now a bridge I hear is a good place to die
Not to hard, you jump and say good bye
I can do that, doesn’t seem hard
So now I stand on a Golden Gate Bridge
Happy at last that life will be over
All of a sudden a huge shaking occurs,
An earthquake , oh lucky me maybe the bridge will collapse
Not to be and you know that now, it tosses me infront of a car
The car brakes and halts and honks its horn
Till it sees the crack in the road just up ahead
If not for me falling right right there
That car would be the one drowning in the ocean of despair
They jumped out and hugged me and kissed me with thanks
Apparently I saved an ambulance full of pre mature babies
You know what happens next, and don’t you go crying
Another Medal of Honor for me, a hero without trying!
What the hell I give up
This suicide profession is harder than you think
Hell I might as well go back to my whiskey and drinks
Live in the darkness, and pray that one day
Life has enough meaning that I wish to actually stay
So now that these ideas so dark and so deadly
I have discarded without hope, so now I will be friendly
I will join the world of human souls and laughter
Even if inside I still lack such basic character
No more silly ideas of death
I need to move on and make life the best
So off to the store, to get me some groceries
A new leaf I have turned and I confess to a smile
When I am crossing the street, I see to my horror
That I am hit by a bus, and finally no damn tomorrows
Let the Deicide commence.
You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.
I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways
Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own personal reality
They are bound to the Earth like trees
Suffocating under the weight of an icy grave
Reaching to be free, but only their limbs are seen
Hoping that one day someone will see:
They can't escape with lacerated wings
The ocean surrounds me, covering everything
Nothing will be clearly seen; confusion overwhelming
No-one can save you, you're on your own, left to die
Manipulating every bleeding heart you can find
I can't escape with lacerated wings.
Swarms of nets, waves of screams
Entangle: your captive illusions and dreams
The mask has be seared - The truth now they see
The Liar - Vampiric Fiend; lowly thief
And now they know you can't escape with Lacerated Wings
There's reasons for your rejections:
Your Heavy heart's transferred oppression
The scars are too deep to pass the trials
But you can find peace in your cage of empty spirals
You Cannot Escape With Lacerated Wings
The Ash Can ©
I got the call on Sunday night. I was traveling on business. When I looked at the caller ID
I wondered why my husband’s boss would be calling me. I was unprepared for what
he told me and my legs turned to water when he said that my husband was dead.
‘A heart attack? An accident?’ I asked. ‘No’, he said, ‘John committed suicide.
They found him in your garage this morning.’ I heard someone screaming and
wished that they would stop so I could hear the rest. His voice was very far away
and the woman just kept screaming. ‘Shut up! Shut up!’ I need to hear. I clapped my
hand over my mouth when I suddenly realized it was me who was screaming.
I don’t remember hanging up or getting on the plane. (beat) Yes, John and I were having
problems and we had been separated for about three months but nothing was official.
After thirty years of marriage I never believed that we couldn’t weather this and share
the rest of our lives together. This was just a phase he was going through…some sort
of mid-life crisis. This had to be some horrible mistake, a case of mistaken identity.
My John would never do this, leave me like this. (beat)
I stumbled into our home around nine the next morning. The house looked like a woman
hadn’t lived there for months. Dirty dishes in the sink, groceries half put away, empty
beer cans and a full ashtray by John’s chair. Seeking comfort I walked over to his chair.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the mirror over the
fireplace. Some wild looking woman with mascara smudges under her eyes and smeared
lipstick looked out at me. I walked closer to inspect this stranger in my house.
She looked old and used up. Who was she? What had life dealt her to look so worn out?
Oh, God, it was me. Staring out with those eyes bleeding hot, raw pain. (beat) I curled
up in John’s chair and closed my eyes. Was this all I had left of my husband? This slightly shabby piece of furniture that still smelled of him? How could I tell our children? Could I bear to go into the garage? What would I find?
I knew that they had taken his body away but what had they left there for me to see?
Maybe something there would prove that this was truly a mistake. I rose to my feet and
walked into the kitchen and through the laundry room to the garage door. (beat)
I slowly opened it and was knocked back by the remaining stink of gas fumes.
John’s car sat in its parking spot, the garden hose hanging from the back window like
some obscene snake. I gagged and pressed the button to open the garage door.
The passenger side window was open so I could look inside without having to touch the car. And what I saw on the seat told it all. There was John’s cell phone, an empty bottle of Vodka and a bottle of Excedrin. (beat) And something else…a second cell phone…what in the world? I was only allowed five seconds of blissful denial before it all came crashing down on me. The second phone…the secret phone that men who cheat keep to talk to their lovers. All those protestations he offered during the time that we were apart. ‘No, there was no one else’, ‘I just need to find myself’, ‘I don’t want a divorce’, ‘I just need some time’. ‘I love you; I’m just not in love with you.’ Lies, all lies! How could I have been so stupid? Then I notice a crumpled manila envelope on the floor of the car. Anger driven, I opened the door and picked up the envelope and the two cell phones and went back into the house. Sitting in John’s chair once again, I smoothed out the envelope and read what was written there.
‘Ricky, tell Sherry I love her. Tell Sherry I can’t live without her. Tell Sherry not to cry
for me. Sherry, I’ll love you forever. I’m sorry.....John-Boy.’ Who the hell was Sherry?
Did my husband of three decades kill himself over some tramp? Some other woman
whom he barely knew? I picked up the second cell phone and scanned the history of calls.
Where was area code 864? As I set the phone down my eye caught the partial title of
a book lying on the rug under the table. Picking it up, I read: ‘How To Keep A Long
Distance Relationship Exciting and New.’ I opened it to the first few pages and found an
inscription, ‘To my tiny dancer, until we meet again. Love forever, your John-Boy.’
My God, John, how could you? How could you do this to us? I yelled as I threw the
book across the room; will this hellish nightmare never end? (beat) I picked up the
cell phone and scrolled down the history; Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman. No other woman, huh, John? South Carolina…hence the long distance relationship…you’re such a fool, I told myself. There was voice mail saved and I listened to the most current ones. Those messages told a story of a married woman who had a son and a new grandchild.
Another sad, pedestrian story of a restless woman trapped in a loveless marriage but
unwilling to leave. The daughter-in-law apparently would not let Sherry see the child.
It seemed that John, in a misplaced attempt to help, called Sherry’s son to insist that
he let Sherry see her grand-baby.
Only to succeed in blowing up that family. The final message was not so sweet and
sexy from his lover. Sherry had dumped my husband. (beat) I didn’t know whether
to laugh or cry. I seemed to be trapped in a crazed, unbelievable soap opera. But what
is it that they say about truth being stranger than fiction? I sighed. John had always
wanted to rescue anyone in trouble…even when they didn’t ask for help. He had crossed
the line calling that woman’s son. Oh, John, what were you thinking?, I asked the empty
room. Didn’t you know? You were her dirty little secret.... (more)
(from my book, Monologues 4 Women)
Are You Happy With the Life You Have?
Are you truly happy with the life you have?
Or have you been discouraged and sad?
Have the things in life brought you contentment?
Or are you one who’s often filled with resentment?
The feelings you have, and the ambitions inside…
Is there some trouble that you’re trying to hide?
Everything you have… God has given to you!
His promises are true!
And he’ll never fail you!
The happiness you may be seeking,
you can find in him!
You can find peace,
hope and satisfaction within!
Christ can bring a healing that you won’t find!
Won’t you give him a chance?
While there’s still time?
What profits a man if he gains the world,
or loses his soul?
Jesus loves you so much!
More than you’ll ever know!
The opportunity is here, for you to take!
Won’t you give God a chance? For heaven’s sake?
By Jim Pemberton 10/14/13
She thought that he’s charming
Her friends says he is so cute
But little did they know
It’s the furthest from the truth
Her mom buys her a new dress
Because he ask her to the prom
But during the fun and laughter
He spikes her punch with rum
She wakes up in his BMW
He,s smiling with a cigarette
A morning she will remember
A night to forget
She can’t stop crying
She lies on her bed
Feeling hurt and disgusted
Suicide thoughts comes to her head
Her mom notice the changes
But she don’t know what is wrong
She use to sing in the church choir
The preacher says she stops coming around
She hugs her mother last night
Then walks out the door alone
And its now early morning
She didn’t come back home
She jumps over the bridge
They pull her body soaking wet
She couldn’t live with the memory
Of the night she can’t forget
It’s sad that her young life was ruin
By the evil that lays hidden behind a smile
Her mother life is shattered
Never knowing what happen to her child
This is happening to innocent girls
All over the world
Taking away their dignity and pride
Sucking the life out of their very soul
Another girl sits under a tree
Reading a book of poem by kaz ishmael
He said “excuse me just got to say
That you have a beautiful smile
She brushes her long hair
Think her jeans didn’t fit to right
His BMW is waiting out side
They are going to movies tonight
Someone Felt Like Giving Up!
I know someone who wanted to give up.
Things in life began to “trip him up.”
After much thought and contemplation.
He really offered no real explanation.
He felt like his life was at a “dead end road.”
He said he couldn’t continue
with a heavy load.
No matter how many different things he tried.
He was not happy… Nor satisfied!
He began to share a piece of his mind…
He was ready to leave everything behind.
The choices that he had sometime ago…
Began to “wear” at his heart and soul!
I tried to encourage him the best I could.
But I’m not sure he really understood.
As I watched him go his separate way…
I said; “there’s something I wanted to say.”
“There’s a God who reigns in haven above!”
“He wants to fill you with his hope and love!”
“He knows and cares about everything you’ll do!”
“He’s loving and kind!” “And wants to help YOU!”
As I spoke, I could see he thought for a minute.
A commitment to God… He decided to give it!
He decided to give it all to a God who won’t fail him!
He wanted to serve a God,
who wants to bless him!
He’s happy now that this choice was taken!
With Jesus… He’s never alone nor forsaken!
By Jim Pemberton
Hark! It is he!
A slate face; devoid!
Mechanical, computing, sleepless.
No! Just human!
Turning, just turning!
He will not fall, now expressionless.
The dark gazeth!
Yet, he wont gaze back!
Four days, sleepless, faceless, for all!
His face is stone.
No care, there's no care!
Persist amidst all of the loss.
It is but he!
designed to be.
It is but he!
Shrug the abyss,
he will nev'r fail;
designed to be.
Shrug the abyss.
Through it all,
he leaveth none for all!
To see the end of it all,
the completion of it all!
None but all.
Four days sleepless,
it is none but he!
Faceless, breathless, mechanized.
Look! See him now!
With bags under eyes.
See him now, the man with no face.
It is he,
Be it so! Be it so!
To see the end of it;
the destruction of it all!
It is he.
In the glowing embers, of an evening fire
There dances the last remnants, of my desire
A melancholy, is stirred by an evening breeze
As my lips quivered, I knelt on bended knees
A lonesome howl, is carried upon the breeze
To fan the fire within, flames were sent to tease
As past thought and feelings enveloped my soul
The emptiness inside raged, spirit out of control
I asked him for forgiveness of my imperfect soul
Even as I tried climbing out of this dark, black hole
The stench of burning flesh, I carry everywhere
Since I fell from your grace, into this pit of despair
Let the fire of life dwindle and as the night air cools
I feel it's warmth leave my body and forms into pools
All I pray is that pain and sadness felt is left behind
Is this really a sane act or thoughts of an insane mind
I cannot get into heaven
God I have tried!
Suicide is a double edge sword
Especially when you survive!
Walking the streets at night
Dazed and confused
Longing to be loved
When is Mum, coming for me?
"Does she still love me?"
"Does she still care?"
"Does she still think of me?"
"Does she wonder, where I am?"
I want her to come find me
I want her to say she 'loves me’
I want her to comfort me
I want her to take me home
And keep me safe
And not forget hat I exist
Like the way she treats me now
I wish God
Could make my Mum
Making this hellish nightmare
On the street
“Send my Mum please!”
So, all this can end!
Before this last ray of hope
Diminishes for good!
I don’t want to become
The walking dead
Forever forgotten as if
I was never born!
For this is the cruel, harsh reality
Of living life, feeling unloved
Uncared for, abandoned,
Left to fend for my own
A dangerous killer inside me
Eating away, at my soul
Something, no one can see
As I suffer in silence
My insides crippling!
Lost, alone and frightened
Weeping on a dirty
Graffiti park bench
Rolling down my cheeks
Stuffing newspapers under my jumper
To keep myself warm
“What am I going to do?”
“Will I make it through the night?”
“Will I get raped and beaten?”
"Will I be left for dead?”
“Will I survive
To see another day?
“Is my life worth living?”
Please God, I beg of you
Have mercy now
Please show me the way!
How queer the color of viscera
squarely foreign in my breast
To be the butcher and grim and goddess
All in one
Leaves identity succinct
Or identifies succinctness
If it has been
Then so it was always before
Therein is 'Peace'
Reposed and eyes rolling
Great, vacant saucers on vertiginous axis
She is quite the swollen beast
And on all fronts, she is terrible
If only you'll watch you may notice her growth
A malignant sort
An unwelcome appendage
I'd dash it out but I've already gone
Too pale and dogged in life to succumb
I curse her tenacity
She has a sister, I think
Or maybe a child
A child who lives down deep in my chest
A child who shrieks and tears down the walls
Perhaps she dislikes their pattern
I want again to be perfected.
Everyday, awakening to fine-tuned platitudes,
Agendas, each hour hanging before me
Like coats on hangers.
I want overcast and quiet;
I want blue screens and coffee stains,
Car exhaust and migraines.
Most of all,
I want to wake up and not feel like
Setting myself on fire
Purely out of spite.
I want to wake up and not feel like
The ground was yanked from beneath me,
And I was suspended in the brief moment
I want to drop dead from winding up the entropy,
Ironing out the flesh across my face,
Peeling off the scars I traced.
I want to drop dead and stay.
I don’t want another trip back from the grave,
The festering stench of yesterday,
Puking up the plans I made.
So many years I tried to keep from being lost,
To be back on top so I can at last leap off.
This smell penetrates my senses;
My belongings in hand, I will wait
for the grey faced man to take me.
Solemnly walking into it;
my belongings are in plain sight.
I will wait
for the grey faced man to take me.
In this stale room;
dreary eyes proceed.
Bleak God please, not this soon,
I look through the crack
and wish to believe
that he not humiliate me.
Will he not take me?
Will he not imprison me?
Alas, he has come;
I see him through the crack.
Is my face not red with embarrassment?
Am I not ashamed?
Am I true in this guilt?
Alas, he has come;
I see him through the crack.
Will he not humiliate me?
Will he not take me?
Will he not imprison me?
He takes me now
with all too much force.
Bleak God please, not this soon.
Looking through concrete
my essence is guilt.
Solemnly walking into it;
I have ended my successes,
I will wait,
for the grey faced man now takes me.
Bleak God! I deserve all of this!
My face is red with embarrassment.
Alas, the grey faced man takes me.
I do not know?
Why tell people in advance?
Do you want them to feel guilt?
For not loving you, listening to you?
Why hurt them? Revenge?
Yes, the world has hurt you,
It can be cold and mean.
So you do have the power
to make a lot of people feel guilt.
You want to leave the world, hurting people?
So you weren’t loved as a child,
a lot of us weren’t. When you grow up
you learn it is not about others loving us,
it is about the love we give others.
You cant make the world love you,
but you can bring love into the world.
That’s why you have a heart.
Every major religion agrees suicide is bad for the soul
In the west, we call it purgatory,
you sit alone, in a dark place, and feel,
you feel guilt, shame, hurt, and loss.
God isn’t there, the angels aren’t there
It’s more alone than you are now,
feeling 1000 times worst,
and the only thing you can do is feel it,
go into the emotions and purge them
until you are capable of loving again,
giving love to others, that is.
Only, then can you even be near an angel or god.
A soul with no love, cannot even be in God’s presence.
That is why purgatory exists, to purify a soul of its selfishness
Here is your cure,
Go help some people worse off than you.
Look into their eyes, feel their suffering,
share theirs with them, listen to their pain,
radiate love to them, be quiet and listen
As you give to them, you heal.....
Write poems of how you feel,
your life experiences, stop writing suicide stuff...
Take your pain and put it into the art,
go deep, make yourself cry.
If the poem doesn’t hurt you, it’s not deep enough.
Write some on beauty that make you feel it..
Pray for the planet and all the people in pain
Imagine your heart glowing love, healing it all.
Forgive everyone that has hurt you.
Anger will burn a hole in your heart.
Face your fears, go out in the world
heal it, make it a better place
This is your mission here..............
I Knew Someone Who Was Ready to “End It All!”
I knew of someone who just wanted “to end it.”
Giving up on life, and did not want to “defend it.”
It was a heart wrenching and difficult situation.
He said what he wanted to, with no explanation!
I could see his face and the sad look in his eyes!
What he was going to do next, was anyone’s surprise.
He turned to drugs and encountered addictions.
With this brought much disease and afflictions!
He gave up on the wonderful family that was given.
And turned to a pretty wild and crazy way of livin’!
I told him about a God who loves him very deeply.
As he listened, he began to grow restless and weary.
I reached for his hand and began to pray for God’s power!
It was a miracle! The blood of Jesus changed him that hour!
The spirit of God brought healing and hope to his body!
He was so excited! He rushed out to tell everybody!
The “end” that he wanted, seemed to just fade away!
For the son of the living God, changed him this day!
The glory of God, and the power of Jesus’ resurrection…
Changed him! And got him going in a NEW direction!
He’s so thankful for the blood of Christ’ atonement!
And is a different person now, because of that moment!
This same Jesus loves and can do the same for YOU!
Through the problems of life…
He will see you through!
By Jim Pemberton
Do You Feel Like There’s Nowhere to Go?
I know that it's easy to get
discouraged and upset.
Feeling “trapped” ...
But can't escape "just yet."
You've tried everything. And not
sure what else to do?
Is there someone
who can help you through?"
Many things you've done.
You’ve wanted to be forgiven!
Yet struggle with this
each day you're livin’!
You meet people and
wear a "smile."
And sometimes wonder if living
is really worth the while.
You may have prayed
over and over again.
And yet constantly feel
Like you’re “trapped within.”
You may have tried to
call on Jesus' name.
Yet find yourself in
"guilt and shame."
Jesus is here now!
And wants you to know…
He can bring peace
to your troubled soul.
Rather than thinking of things
done in the past.
Come to Jesus now!
His love will always LAST!
Allow HIM to bring to your life
the needed victory now!
He'll make you a brand new person!
By Jim Pemberton
I beg your forgiveness for I am not long for this world. Happenstance has led me down this path so crooked and forlorn. Misery has preceded my path and darkened my senses all but torn. Mistakes have illuminated my way though their light be a fallacy; an illusion to comfort a tortured mind, riddled with confusion and false fancy. ‘Tis only just to forgive me sisters, I am not long for this world.
An image wreaks havoc with my memory. A picture so horrendous the effects of its trauma echo through the hallways of time. The sight that for all my life I was so grateful to possess, leads me now to curse what gods may be that granted it me. For surely had I never seen the sight of him, cold and lifeless, I would have eventually endeavoured to be healed in my spirit. The fault is mine; it was never him but I that had the capacity to change. ‘Tis only right to forgive me father, I am not long for this world.
My middle name should rather have been disappointment. That is all I have ever delivered to her who brought me into the world and nurtured an infant into a lady. I call her Gaia, that is her spirit name. My existence has put lines on her face prematurely and caused her to despair time and time again. The audacity of me now to leave this earth without ever having produced for her a grandchild. The insolence of leaving only words to counter the preponderance of condolences from rejoicing enemies that shall now assail and abuse her. My soul is repentant, twas never the intent to hurt your heart dear Gaia. ; Tis only compassionate to forgive me mother, I am not long for this world.
As for the empty future that awaits me. No children to carry on the memory of me. No great achievements to render my life the content of legend. No great works to immortalise me in poem and prose. No others to mourn the passing of a life most unremarkable. Nothing but things, regrettable decisions, words left unsaid and the cold sound of silence to mark that most auspicious event. Death finds me waiting and unafraid with only the last words to pass from these lips; ‘tis only fair to forgive me self, for we are not long for this world.
I want to drown my urge to die
I want to kill my pulse inside
I can't breathe, I'm paranoid
Everything in life I avoid
Don't speak to me, I'll look away
Inside my eyes is just decay
I'm already dead, but have yet to die
Why do I keep my body alive
My soul is dead, eyes are lies
So is the smile I hide behind
Pull the plug, I'm a fake
In a nightmare and I cannot wake
Drown me! I'm flooded in pain
Please help me regain
Some peace, some rest
I want to die to live again
Set me free
Slitting my wrists isn't working
The more stares I get
The more I become numb
I just need to be gone
Eliminate my pain,
I'm already out of breath
Suffocating on my hopelessness
Every day I am alive
But I'm craving to die inside
Curved smile because your so naive
You think I'm happy
Yet I'm being crushed
My head is overflowing
With these thoughts that are too much
One word, suicide
Sparks a light inside of my eyes
I don't want to pretend to live
Let me go, flood me in sin
There is where I want to swim
Six feet under the ground
Don't be selfish
And keep me in pain
To tourture my lifeless body again
Let my body float soundly
Rushing water, ocean salt
I promise I won't feel it at all.
End it, hold me under
Then bury me so I can slumber
Goodbye lifeless eyes
As I'm dying I'll be coming alive
Deleted from my mind
As I leave this world behind
Floods my lungs
Leans in for a kiss
Together we sink into insanity
And drown in infinitys abyss.
There’s a weight on my chest that won’t go away
A stinging in my eyes, but it’s not the rain
Scars on my arm that take forever to fade away
Drowning out the world because participation leads to pain
Hearing the whispers when you’re alone
“Nobody cares about you… Just kill yourself already”
The darkness creeps up ever so slowly
The weight just gets more heavy
Wanting to find ways to numb the pain
and make the world go away for a day
Nobody notices when you start to cry
You become invisible, but its not that you’re shy
Why open up when the world wants you to die?
You’re too much of a burden to ask for help
Even if you had a rope to your throat and
try to see if you can fly
Dipping your pillows into the ocean
The only comfort you have is that other people wouldn’t be bothered by your death
You become two different people
The one you were whispers for help, with tears in your eyes
While the one you became shouts “I’m fine” and smiles, refusing to let the other you
reach out for help, before you decide to take your life
The one you became smothers you, refusing to talk to anyone
You fall deeper into yourself
Until you fade away completely
Every day in school
They would pick on him
And threaten to kill his mom
If he reported them
The constant abuse
And the physical attacks
For months he took it
And the teachers all turn their backs
The shame and humiliation
His peace of mind and sanity is gone
The hurt in his heart
While the girl he likes helplessly looks on
The frustrations of the parents
Seeing their only child health decline
And the teachers who turn a blind eye
Telling them everything in school is fine
The attempt of suicide one night
When the father saw him with knife
Asking if he will go to heaven or hell
If he takes his own life
The tear of the kidney
For the force of the kicks and blows
The lost of appetite and weight
The suffering only he alone knows
But he did open his mind he said
I can’t got through another year like this
And when they were arrested then many
Told the press what they had witness
Today he is trying to get back his life
But his road is pave with bad memories
And sometimes he almost reaches the end
And then get scared of the shadows of the trees
Then he is right back where he started
And then he has to start again with frustration
Sometime lashing out at his parents and family
Trying to get some much need attention
Looking at him very quite sitting alone
Wondering what’s going on in his poor mind
And wishing to that one day god will
Bring him the peace he so much wants to find
He is a fighter and his will are very strong
Yes today he is along way from there
And I know that eventuality the time will come
His smile will return that has now disappear
The war must be over for now
But every day he has a battle to face
But in the end he will be victorious
And get back his life that has been misplace
So many kids has and are being bulled
And some are talking their own lives
For when you feel all hope is gone
Then it’s very hard to survive
They are sick and tired of the abuse,
and they little minds fought so hard, so very long,
And was just couldn’t make it
through the pain, and stayed strong.
I wish all students will look after the weak
The ones who are very quite and shy
And if the teachers and students do this
Then so many of our children will not have to die
Sanity on Colonial Road no longer exists.
The endless spiral downward still persists.
Friends have been lost, no longer exist.
Life is strange, wipe me off the list.
Have no wife, no kids, no job.
And yes, I live the life of a slob.
Feel like I’m hiding from the mob.
Give them time, they’ll do their job.
61 and obsolete, too old it seems to compete.
61 and without a dime, got too old before my time.
61 and life’s past me by, happened quick, sigh.
61 never thought my life would be a lie.
Where are the grandchildren to make me smile?
Where are the days I can relax in style?
What kind of fool have I be in life?
Why do I have to endure this strife?
If it were cancer or heart disease
Or some other health issue if you please.
Then I could understand what I’ve been dealt.
And try to keep living, not be willing to melt.
I once had a life, a business, a dream.
I woke every day with a full head of steam.
But that business, that dream has faded away.
And I have not replaced it, have not had my say.
I keep trying to reinvent myself.
As I’ve been told it’s that or all else.
I’ve been at it for the last two years.
And my reward, nothing but tears.
Perhaps I’ve had it too easy from the very start.
Inherited a business, my father’s death was a part.
Did all I could for almost ten years.
Then closed the doors, but had no fears.
Started a new one, way back in ‘86.
From the beginning, I knew it would stick.
Lived a good life, not rich but no worries.
Until it nosedived and gave me the sorries.
When you’re 61 without a dime to your name.
It’s hard to look back and feel the same.
For almost forty years I lived the dream.
Now all is lost, I do nothing but scream.
Oh, I send resumes to all the employers out there.
Not one reply in two years if your dare.
Unless you want to sell credit card machines.
There’s no work for you, you ain’t living the dream.
I’ve had plenty of good counsel and lots of advice.
Not a single thing in two years has been able to suffice.
I think of the gun virtually every single day.
Get over this misery, say goodbye and good day.
What you say, don’t ever give up?
What about George Eastman or Ernest Hemingway?
Or Hunter S. Thompson from Rolling Stone by the way.
You think my problems pale by the way.
I tire each morning facing my painful non rewarding life.
I hate the world for not recognizing my strife.
I have so much more to give to this world.
But if no one can see it, let the flags be unfurled.
I used to feel like
Just floating through this life
Invisible to the world
Weighed down by the chains
of sin and guilt
My shoulders bowed and my head hung low
I looked at You through eyes
of Disillusionment and shame
My heart yearned so much
To just let go
And confide in someone
To look at my reflection in a mirror
And not hate the person
Staring back at me
To show my scars
Where the pain of cutting
Was the only way I could escape
And use them as a testimony of
of how you gave me beauty for ashes
Future held such initial promise
But shallow dreams disintegrated
Coalescing into shallower reality
Despite my youth, pain cripples me to geriatric apathy
General interest long gone, death has become the single concern
A welcome embrace, a welcome friend
Tardiness is expected, as well as encouraged
Release me from these eternally shrinking walls
Allow the peons to continue their superficial pursuits
Never meshing well into the fold, I yearn simply for permanent isolation
There is not enough joy to justify the agony that life forever guarantees me
Nihilism and anger, desires for maniacal retribution, the only feelings I've ever known
Clouded over now by perpetual physical torment, my formerly hollow shell continues to exist without capacity for optimism
Yet without hate, there seems nothing left
Shall I forever be adrift?
Remember that rhyme about sticks and stones?
How broken bones hurt more than the names that were thrown?
Remember how in grade school everyone was our valentine?
Now we can’t find the time
To gather the courage to speak our minds
About the person we want to call “mine”
Remember how we used to believe in fairy tales?
Now love fails us and broken heart strings imprison us like jail
Apparently our parents lied
When they said we’d die next to the person we loved like husband and wife
Now adolescents lie at night praying to die
Some will tie a noose
Some will bleed out and let loose
Some will grab their Dad’s gun and shoot for the moon
But I might just pop pills to kill the will to spill
Blood in the sink
And to think a bitter drink was more distinct
We all want to be adults, but as kids it just results
In insults and the real adults think our music is a cult
It’s never been said
But without music most of the youth would be dead
So we lie in bed with our headphones
Blaring until we’re deaf toned
In a dead zone now head home
This is for the poppers, the purgers, and the starvers
And the smokers and the cutters
Because we feel like we can never love another so forget the others
We live for our sisters or brothers
The ones who still have a chance at life
So we teach them to live it right
Because we know what it’s like to fight for your life every night
And you cry
Wishing someone might come and find you
And look in your eyes
And tell you how much they like you
Despite all the lies and frights you find inside of you
But you somehow keep your hopes up even if you’re doped up
You still show up to school hoping to grow up
But we just get picked on
So listen to this song
If you’re giving up on living it up
Some say suicide silences secreted screams
So drown demons deliberately within deep dreams
Very often we debate suicide as an option without caution
Since we’re going to hell we might as well drop in
Yes words hurt more than broken bone
You’re all beautiful. You just got to let it show.
I do not know?
The loneliness is unbearable
The misunderstanding is crippling
All the years of active rejection
Slowly engulfing the being
How I thought them to be the worst
But it’s the passive rejection
That’s what’s really killing me
The quiet shunning of who I am
The subtle hints that I’m not invited
It’s quite evil really
Unaware of why,
My bitterness grows
Thus if I ask, they’ll point to a monster
The monster they themselves created
Once a wide-eyed optimist
Transformed by the continuous rejection
See, it initiates the group’s strength
Knowing they shared in the killing
Leaving the remains to the birds
Starved the soul is
Anything, a heart can latch on to
But nothing is there
Deep thoughts, an empty stare
Drown myself in music and writing
And so it does heal
The slow, gentle numbing of the emotions
Of the deep pain I feel
Living through the art form
The only life I have
An outcast, the lone wolf
My loud howl from the top of the mountain
It’s impact felt only from within
Inclusion, I often question if that’s all I desire
Inclusion simply for the sake of inclusion
It’s not, but how pleasant it would be to finally feel it
Perhaps just until the right ones come along
My feelings are a dark empty abyss
I feel everything, and yet nothing
Impossible to express, as even I am unaware
I’m getting lost in my head again
Overthinking and zoning
Suppose it is explainable
As I haven’t gotten much sleep
Symptoms Of A Paralyzing Depression
Course through my veins
And I am aware of them
And I am scared of them
Yet what can I do, surely can’t tell anyone
How would I live with myself
So I’ll keep it to my own
Knowing my burdening of them, their cold pity
It would prove them right
All along, they knew I was a loser
This self-fulfilling prophecy always occurs
Labeled as a rebel, an outcast
A loser, a pariah
I want my feelings to be known, want them understood
Want them gently caressed
But it seems that will never happen
I am socially depressed
Do You Blame Or Trust God?
Do you blame God for the trials you may face?
Do you reject God’s mercy and grace?
Perhaps you are in a most “difficult situation.”
You can’t figure out a “reasonable explanation?”
You may feel abandoned, alone and afraid.
There may have been times when you prayed.
You don’t know why this happening to you?
You probably try your best in all that you do!
But, it still things really haven’t worked out.
And you often wonder what life is all about?
Rather than blaming God… Why not trust him?
He’s not your enemy! He wants you to know him!
He’s not the blame for the sorrows of mankind!
He’s always faithful, most loving and kind!
He patiently waits for anyone to call on his name!
With him in control…
Things won’t be the same!
He is here! Even if everyone else fails you!
If you give him a chance! He wants to help you!
Won’t you take the time, and invite him in?
This is where a new opportunity can begin!
His life for yours, is what he gives in exchange!
He can help your situation to really change!
He can change your life! And turn it around!
And can put your life on a solid ground!
By Jim Pemberton
If love is a hunger.Then my heart is
empty.The pains run deeper then
the pacific ocean floor.So many
lovers my heart feels like a revolving
door.I ask my mother to feed me
cause i hunger for her love .She
gave me the left over scraps from
my sisters and brother.barely
enough to stop the pain.I ask my
father to feed me and he only feeds
my mother ,and when he
remembers that I have no love he
says hes fresh out.I asked my
husband to feed me .But he cant
even make food.He gives me a
dinner mint of lust .It disappears as
soon as it touches my
lips.Countless lovers taking from an
already starved heart. The inner
parts of my heart consumed by the
love given but never received.My
heart is just and empty hollow lining
.So empty the hunger pains can
never be felt again.
The pain in the brain is driving me insane.
The noise in my head is something I truly dread.
The noise my brain employs, cannot be explained.
Nothing can treat it, nothing can beat it, all is in vain.
Only those with this condition are in a position
To understand what ails, what truly forever travails.
Ringing, chirping, squealing, nothing can be treating.
Insanity rules the day, all treatments lie, I say.
I personally choose a path of self destruction.
I drink alcohol until the noise no longer rules my existence.
But it will return at 5:00 am, with its usual persistence.
I care not, at least I buy a few moments of sane resistance.
How many of us exist and live in pain each day?
How many Shysteras treat us in their immoral play?
It’s not cancer, a life threatening disease.
I just wish it would stop, s'il vous plaît, if you please.
These words I write will not bring me a cure.
My prayers will go unheard, of that I am so sure.
I’ll live each day with a screaming noise embedded in my brain
And wonder why I still exist, and that I’m not insane.
Unless you have Tinnitus and have the slightest clue.
You’ll have no idea, why I am so blue.
Peace of mind is worth much more than a million dollars.
Will I ever have it again, I guess that’s up to the scholars.
The Shot rings out...
and then it's over.
And all the crying in the world,
won't change a thing.
People always say
I wish I would have been there
I wish I would have known
I should have done something...
Things could have turned out so differently.
But the fact of the matter is...
People always say these things later
and never before...
Never before its too late...
And always at the funeral.
(November 11, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved