Best Die Off Poems
~Not Like Me~
When you were first put into my arms,
I begged God, to make you nothing like me
For my sins, ask for no transformation
This is my song, my meditation
Look at my face
Where has it gone,
You no longer desire to be part of my song
Look at my life,
The toll hasn't been paid
I'm the one suffering every day
The vengeance of eternal flames,
sit near the empty heart
Burning my needs to hold you once more,
I need you more than you'll ever know
Now, Look at me, at the age of 73
I have nowhere to go
Everyone I know awaits in a place of gold
Unlike you, you're too busy, proud and bold
------ A different song!!!
I sing a song, that accentuates the mind,
I have no one to blame, I neglected all the signs
Hoping the rain would slowly die off
Today here I lay, wondering where I went wrong
I implored God, to cause you nothing like me
I have a heart that forgives and tries to forget
I kneel, and I give, and I treat others with respect
My compassion, I measured in the poorest way
I judged my life worse than the others did
Why did I ask ---- Not Like Me!
For my sins, ask for no translation
This is my song, my speculation
The dreaded conclusion of this song,
All I can say is, "Be careful what you ask for."
In the end, all I can say, I got what I asked for
Someone, who's Not Like Me......................
By: PD
It only takes a few years gone
for everyone to forget that song;
though often later generations
will not keep their venerations
of cherished family now long past,
faint memories die off real fast!
Faces lost, even distant laugh,
if not captured in photograph;
portraits peel and fade away
unless in museum they do stay,
and even when on wall they bask,
most future viewers often ask
“Who is that person? Who were they?
Were they important in their day?”
Statuary might be concrete,
memoirs can be indiscreet,
tombstones often wear away,
nothing on Earth can long stay;
we return to dust, one in the same
while only few win lasting fame.
What is the shore without the sea
Aimlessly wondering watery dreams
Deferred desolate depressed empty
Is how I am without love in me
That one true love for which one is blind
Without it there is darkness blackest of times
Is like a blue bird without a heart song
No white wind of romance to carry it on
Without love there is nothing to fight for
No reason to desire life would be a bore
Amethyst art would starve forever more
No apple of the eye to amber adore
Without love music would be dead
The humming of machinery could be heard instead
Humanity would die off no kids born
Feelings would be liability and scorned
Without love I am an empty cocoa shell
With no inspiration no wishing well
No dedication or passion that bleeds
That is what lack of love does to me
One would think that the feeling of being a slave would create understanding
One would think that racism would die off and cease to overtake our surrounding
Equality has become but a faint memory buried with a man Africa once so greatly looked up to
Labels still floating around, separation amongst people. All subject to the race or ethnic group they belong to
Don’t you think there was a little furry passed with a law?
Just a little vengeance kneaded in, tables turned, no longer holding the short end of the straw?
So arose the system with a pretty name “Affirmative action”.
5-1 the number of bullets in the gun gradually making a subtraction
Acquiring our positions based on our skin colour instead of based upon or level of education
Supressing the “Suppressors” with lethal repercussions and lack of evaluation
So carry on placing the one colour above the other, turning us against each other until the streets run red with anarchy
Then hypocritically teach your kids about equality, living one foot in and one foot out of controversy.
One would think we as a nation would learn from a neighbouring sunken country. Stay united and grow far beyond expectation
One can only hope for these lines to be erased, for skin colour, gender and religion factors to be cancelled out and do away with exaggeration
The world is the way it is and shall remain as such, the universe will be the way it should be keeping the balance as top priority
So even if I cannot change the world. With my words I keep spreading the love! One of the minority.
Love is not based on a feeling only
There must also be a clear decision
Passionate feelings may die off early
Showing it was just infatuation
One should not need another as a crutch
But be able to stand on one's feet
This will allow each other space as such
And enrichen the sharing when both meet
A love relationship has its demands
It does not ensure smooth sailing always
Be mindful of this in each circumstance
And it will help you survive the rough days
The one that you love should be your best friend
Someone with whom you can share everything
A person upon whom you can depend
In situations that can be trying
As time passes, both of you will change
For change is inevitable in life
Do not consider this as something strange
Learn to adjust and avoid any strife
True love is the most precious emotion
That a person can engage in sharing
It fills the heart with blissful elation
Giving one's life a rich sense of meaning
"Love is a decision, it is a judgement, it is a promise. If love were only a feeling, there would be no basis for the promise to love each other forever. A feeling comes and it may go. How can I judge that it will stay forever, when my act does not involve judgement and decision."
- Erich Fromm - (The Art of Loving)
"But let there be spaces in your togetherness. And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow."
Kahlil Gibran – (The Prophet)
As i sit alone, with a cigarette, The stale smoke stings
my eye. It starts to water, like the tears of losing a loved one. sitting there, imagining: What kind soul would love an angry man?
The smell of burnt wood, maybe Oak mixed with Pine. Probably a fire that was exhausted by a neighbor who lives near.A grey spotted dog lays dreaming, wondering maybe if he's running from me, as well. Maybe I should stop this kind soul, from my hurtful self. As the feelings can be replaced. The black and blue that's worn on her, can't hide. She mustn't cry over this guy. He is only misunderstood, that's not fair to her. He Burns and Mask's himself, to weaken her to a burnt ash on the ground. Exhaling the last of your breath, just to look up, and wonder why you are not around. You know why you sit alone, only to realize that the cigarette was done. So was your soul. So he knows why he wants to die off, but never too bold as to why I sit alone.
the rapture
Each story fell to the ground
feathers were collected
in the die-off different colours
prismed in the silver dust
of moon eclipsing sun
the in-between time
where the sky parted
like torn curtains
the Grimoire words
flew off the page
into the aether
black keys fed
to speak golden spells
bringing life back screaming
from the black open caverns
of the banished and repelled
bit-by-bit the brimstone cracks
and sparks from the depths of death
the mortal substance skerrick,
near to invisible but heard
for what it is now, seraphim
3 sets of wings, rolls off the emptiness
in echoing tears the becoming breaks
through waves rapturefarious
collecting immortal strength
from the deep ink pockets of dark
mined mind firmly set concrete
and contracted in the fires of hell
the phoenix rises like a raptor
its beating heart lit
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Casshern” / Ursine Vulpine
https://youtu.be/nRY5pcA4jk8
"Oxygene 8 Megamix" / Jean Michel Jarre
https://youtu.be/LfkqJOAEsFM
rapturefarious
rapturefurious
https://www.britannica.com/topic/seraph
As Autumn's breeze starts to show its face
so does a gradual cooling of land begin.
Mottled colours of brown, green and golden
leaves drift down, spinning and twisting.
Bare branches start to appear as the trees
are stripped and scurrying insects hide
under the new piles. Still the sun tries
to hold back the clock to no avail.
Long dark nights and short days
take over as everything begins
to sleep and some to die off.
Long cold days now approach.
All too soon snow is in the air
soft fluffy flakes that drift down
blanketing the lands in pristine
white that glistens and sparkles
like precious gems strewn about.
Winter's icy breath now rules
and mortals huddle by the fire.
Behold the sky a moon yonder with family tonight,
You and me sitting afar, with stir heart tonight,
Drifting air, warm breeze embrace and gone away,
And who’d be my crony, confederate, chum tonight,
You wasn’t fair creature of a hour,
Can’t I explain and elucidate the truth tonight,
Flower of Love and gabfest with you,
Is a piece of pleasure and calmness tonight,
If your shadow be in the smoke of cigarette,
Let I ignite this poor companion tonight,
Drowned in amativeness of your abstractive love,
Will anyone narrate resplendent beauty of my lass tonight,
But, your reflection now faded from cruel moon,
Where did I go, whom I see tonight?
Say, how I could be without you,
You’re not here but Love is here tonight,
And I Shahid sitting on the shore of hope, stucked in estuary,
Might I be triumphed or die off tonight.
M. Shahid H. Chouhdry ©
On the sands of time
How will his feet print on the sands of time?
The query he is so bothered to ask
Emirates, ere hit and run dashes his rhyme
And creates deep holes of vast pending task.
Will those little lights yet glow when he’s gone?
Or will they die off when he’s in that hole?
This, he meditates in his deepest lone,
Scribbles verse, should unexpected grips whole.
Placer orb was where he conceived this tongue;
Whence his momentary opt to torch the ground
Ere it will be too late to dong a gong-
Then the planet will guest still air of sound.
For the world abrupt visitors, he scribes
This anon writ, ere God sends His un-bribes.
©A.O, 4/3/2014.
Where have all the poets gone,
give up rhyming every one,
rhythm joined with rhyme well done
was once the way that classics run.
Alas, now no one reads the verse
of rhyming poets, and what worse
as they die off no more will come
to keep alive our wordsmith fun.
Is it now that minds depart
from seeing beauty in this art
or maybe none can see the need
to weave a web with literary seed.
If pen on paper flows with ink
then wouldn't I be right to think
that words, as well, should flow along
and fall on ears as poet's song.
Where have all the poets gone
that write, when all is said and done,
their words to gently roll and run
to give their readers much more fun.
Ivor G Davies
My Little Cottage.
I love my little cottage adorned in roses by the sea.
I've lived here a long time just my cat and me.
In summer it's really pretty, the roses out in bloom
the fragrance from the petals filling every room.
The gardens full of flowers, of pinks, golds and reds
neatly displaying each colour boldly in flower beds.
Then comes the curse of winter with winds, hail and rail
and I see my flowers all die off until spring returns again.
Well I guess that's the tapestry of life as seasons come and go
Then come next spring you'll hear me sing
with a beautiful flower bed to show.
Autumn soothes and kills off the Spring blooms
Winter hiding in its triple dark womb
My surroundings are an unusual tomb
And my insides change like the seasons
My cold soul seeps out of my skin into the outside world
My heated anger makes those around me sweat
I can't say I've done anything I'll ever regret
I would never charge the stars with treason
When you're silent your words mean so much more
People don't quite expect what you have in store
As some of those words die off and aren't reciprocated
While the evident few simply appreciate it
I'm not entirely sure why I write
How I fight, curse in spite, and yet feel alright
Maybe there is benefit in setting things aright
But these things seem to revert back to their original stage
Just as the seasons alternate once they're out of a phase
What does it mean to be happy or snappy?
As if our life can be categorized in a simple X-Y graph
There's so much more than that, so much more complex
And just as the seasons aren't simply a change in temperature
Our life can't be categorized in a simple change of temperament
I'm fine with the way things are
But like the caveman I still gaze at the stars
Each of us deeply believing that it does not get much better than this
But in reality this is further than the highest bliss
Whether that change is there, available to us
Or simply a silly hopeful illusion
May not even be worth the fuss
Not worth this confusion
Bombarding the bong like oxygen is wrong
drinking alcohol like you’re a bottomless hole,
The speed the base the MDMA
the pace of life wastes you away
cocaine and ecstasy
next day looking wrecked to me
Ketamine replaces vitamins
face changes, unrecognisably
Why buy more supplies
When supplies die off
and you die slow
Unhappy unless under the influence,
life caught up in the drug undertow
1.
Too many lives were lost today/
too many more will follow/
but a buck was made.
2.
A snow topped mountain/
is a mountain no more/
it's a hole without coal.
3.
The laws/
with double standards/
make justice weep.
4.
Will the last of humanity;
in their impunity,
erect a grave?
5.
As children die off yonder/
the profit seeking man/
unknowingly kills his own.
6.
The countless dead are counted/
the countless living are discounted/
the sham is sold.
7.
The sky rains ashes/
as the tides come in/
painting distant landscapes blind.