When the days all mush together and I can't feel what emotion is devouring my nervous system.
If lifelessness was a feeling then I'm embodying it with the numerous days of bed rotting trapped in my own insanity. I need out of my own head but I can't even seem to get out of my own bed.
“Why bother with these irredeemable men?”
I must — for you see,
what you claim ruined belongs to me.
For I am their king —
scourged,
the most ruined of them all.
Behold my kingdom:
a nest of birds with broken wings,
whose mother — disturbed —
has left them to fall.
I weep for the breadth of its lifelessness,
and to the abandoned — comfort I bring.
For I am their empathy —
deliverance by mercy unto the broken.
I swear by the name of our collective reclaim:
may you who suffer — come one, come all.
"A Christ who has become one of us completely —
no longer a god-man among mortals, but a mortal-god of mortals."
The tree of death or life,
A duality of existence,
The truth is obvious to the transcended
but remains the same to the unchanged.
The tree of death or life,
The darkness and sunshine of the meadow,
The lifelessness and beauty of our journey,
So much lies hidden in this narrow realm.
Our weary bodies are cradled by the night,
While the soul journeys to various places,
Shadowed by the unseen.
The tree of death or life calls us.
Existence is a two-way path;
Slumber is the random movement of the soul.
This phenomenon is bidirectional,
For the tree of death or life is a marvel of the Divine.
April 25, 2025.
“For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.”
~ Charles Bukowski
Darkness sucked at my soul
with jealousy and intense arousal.
You are mine.
Forever, in life or death.
You shine in lifelessness
as my blade
sinks silver into your skin,
accentuated by the red of my rage.
Together, in life and death.
I love you.
Is it lax, laziness, lethargy, sloth, or stagnancy?
Or is it like the calm quietness of a crocodile?
Is it a temporary entrance into fantasy?
Or is it being with the ceaseless spirit for a while?
Like a crane, as though in slumber, stands solemn and soundless.
Alert to grab the best of the fish that comes on its way
So too one on an endeavour, though within feels boundless.
Opts for the Zen form, and from all distractions stays away.
The silence that lies in passing from this world to the next
The tranquil interval between death and resurrection
When humans await, with eternity, to be annexed
Eternal Spirit offers profuse grace and protection.
This quiescence, not lifelessness, like treasures, one should earn.
To dwell, like the saints, in the sacred silence, one should learn
A doomed lifelessness sprung out of me
My body resided, candid eyed
While my soul left, evaporated to escape
In the form of a single tear shed.
Such dense, my eyes could not hold the weight
They dropped it to the floor
Falling to its fate in a graceless chase
I could not see it reach its goal.
I felt light, but with unattended vacancy
A gulf possible of collapsing; I looked down,
And there were pieces of myriad gold
Breaking off the teardrop,
Flecks of my croon, singing
They were fairies who rose up to me,
I saw in them a sense of misery--
My own staring back at me.
The fairies casted a spell of my unknown
The magic perforated straight into me
Something stirred-- deceit to emptiness
Something that did not beg to break free
Maybe a soul that was stable, in peace.
I realised it was the answer to my plea,
The weight laden drop was no more
The single tear shed was a call for help
It birthed fairies who availed to it.
With spooked nerves' dead of night woe
This horror show
Morns and fogged, quaking on through.
Eves and fogged, back.
A bony figure's stiffness
And lifelessness
Treed, which its leading part plays.
Treed, with star's knack.
Genre: Poesy
Title: Nude Attire
Author: John King Ayanfe ©
Behold, attires covering secrets of nudity
Attires laying betwixt cheap and expensive costs
Thus, nudity is first an attire for all
However, man is nude before life and death
Certain times be when humans love to forsake their status
Nudity becomes the priest of the mind, oh
A room to bath - a room for sexual stance
Yet man's stance before man is to rule man
The rich wear the attire of gathered riches
The poor wear the attire of gathered lamentations
Fashion?! Fashion is a new trend of insanity
Greatly elevated with portraits of nudity
Are we not all nude before shadow and birds
Before the vultures of hidden places; pathetic sarcasm
Aren't we clowns scaring clowns amid clowns
Oppressive intimidation - heartless wreckings - lovely hatred
Those on expensive attires pew on high tables
Those on rags are fed crumbs outside the gate
But death feeds on all as supreme parasite
Aren't we equal irrespective of status? Selfsame grave beckons
Man's nude attire is death, pretending to be no threat
Until lifelessness prove it as fate
Death was A Nice Idea,
So, Chief became “My Dear”:
Suicide for Breathless State
Straight to Satan’s Estate;
There to my case restate
Boss with Heat rewrite fate…
Death was the Fine Idea:
With Lifelessness no fear,
I wouldn’t for Nurse wait,
The Steroids hold as Great,
A Doctor like God rate
And start comparing Weight…
Death was the Crisp Idea:
Life has proved Another Spear:
Always Airways leave clean
To off hold Shaming Scene!
I have had my Fill with the Lifelessness of Winter
I have had my fill of this winter,
The lifelessness in its frost;
Fingers stiff, face pale.
It’s cold pain in the bone
To the black and blue bruise
Of a cracked thumbnail.
Huddled in black overcoats
And breathing out smoke;
It must be hard for mourners
Lowering loved one’s
into the bone white earth
In the dead of winter,
in wooden coffins, arms folded,
As if they could still feel the cold...
John Tansey
Copyright ©2007 John Thomas Tansey
A black mist of lifelessness breathes in the pure air
It is vacant within it's emptiness dead hollow and bare
We vanish from existance of those with eyes who see
The unknown secret of a life dying to never leave
Remembrance held in memory of the spirits in the air
Vapors of information above with the nothing left to share
Birth is where the timer starts counting towards the end
It's fair to say we're all really the walking dead
Maybe life is only preparation for what is coming after
Then death is worth living for our books final chapter
Written 01/15/19
Contest: 10L-10W-Free Verse
Hosted By: Laura Loo
3/19/15
I admit
Something might exist
Maybe in some type of rift
Where no light has hit
Despite the type of risk
Could there be righteousness?
Or would it lead to a crisis swift?
Is there lifelessness
Inside this mist
Or a place with the nicest gifts
And wisest wits
It is in our thoughts we hope to live on forever
How clever we seem to think this way of not knowing
Everyone of us has a different version of the story called eternity
This diversity is what makes life an ongoing rhapsody
That is the only way we can keep our sanity
If not, we will all fall into the fathomless abyss of lifelessness
Sweet heavenly bliss, come and give me a hug and a kiss
I need to know that life does not have a quietus
That we do continue in an afterlife
Some way, somehow
We will live on forever
Grandma! Your talking to a fiery dragon.
Yes, one of my many talents I didn't know I
Possessed. I will not be impolite. It's standing
There in all its fiery splendor talking from the
Other side of the fence illuminating the
Darkness.
I'm honored to finally have met, seen, and
Talked to an incredible phenomenon.
Would you say your bigger than a mastodon?
I must be under a spell. Where is the sorceress?
Grandma! Your talking to a fiery dragon.
When you use your imagination John
Anything is possible and it is bottomless.
I'm honored to finally have met, seen, and
Talked to an incredible phenomenon.
Do you eat tarragon?
We are making progress.
Grandma! Your talking to a fiery dragon.
I wave my hand and said Soon all this will be
Gone
Back to lifelessness.
I'm honored to finally have met, seen, and
Talked to an incredible phenomenon.
A bonfire gave me the key to once upon.
My grandson is still talking about my
Childishness.
My grandma talked to a fiery dragon.
She was honored to have met, seen, and
Talked to such an incredible phenomenon.
I am surrounded by the armies of afflictions
Shooting my soul with bullets of pains
In a lonely journey of my sorrowful life.
My lament is like a stretching womb
Propelling the baby out of a woman's tunnel of birth;
A motion so powerful and so painful.
Dark and cold are the days of my life
Like a winter night of the cloudy sky
In a hopeless desert of lifelessness.
From the corners of my eyes tears radiate
Down to the dry lips of my mouth,
A bitter taste none would wish to try.
Refusing to heal are the wounds of tragedies
Continuously feeding flies juices of my pains
So they rejoice at an expense of my troubles.
But I know, oh yes I know, I know that a time
Is coming when this grass will turn green again,
A time when this mist will be gone,
For the sun even though it sets,
It will always rise and shine!
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