Long Life after death Poems
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Why do bad things happen to good people?
Why does suffering come to the weak and feeble?
Misery doesn't come to us simply
Whatever fruit we plant, will grow on the tree
Why do we see good people suffer?
They pray to God, but are denied supper
The result is not God's decree
It's a Universal Law, you will soon agree
The bad you do, comes back to you
As you sow, so shall you reap
If you want apples, you must plant apples
Otherwise, there will be no apples on your tree
People think that it is God in heaven
Giving cruel orders from cloud eleven
Is it true that God is passing the decree?
Or is it a law unfolding that we see?
The law is known as the Law of Karma
It is this law that causes all the drama!
If you understand the law, you will agree
That apples can't grow on a mango tree!
There will be no reaction, unless there is an action
There will be no effect unless there is a cause
Apples or mangoes, be it one, two or three
What we plant, is what we will see on the tree
But why do bad things happen to good people?
We hear people question, but the logic is feeble
It is expecting apples to appear on a mango tree
But how can apples grow on a mango tree?
Is this something difficult to understand?
Is it unique or does it happen in every land?
The fruit you plant, will be the fruit on the tree
Just like there are mangoes on every mango tree
Have you seen a new born suffer?
Some are born fortunate, the circumstances differ
There must be a reason, you will agree
Otherwise, why would this ever be?
We may not remember, but the law remembers the past
Whatever we do, will be counted till the last
Good or bad, whatever be the degree
Will appear as the fruit that we planted on the tree
Some people question, “Is there life after death?”
Or is the story over when we take our last breath?
When we watch some children born with a smile and glee
We realize this is no magic, nothing happens for free
All this happens by a law on earth
There is no luck or chance involved in our birth
Fortunate or unfortunate, doesn't come randomly
The circumstances of our birth don't just happen simply
Who is in charge, who controls our destiny?
Is there a power that is issuing the decree?
Happy or unhappy, can prayer make it be?
Or is it our own deeds that will make our destiny?
Alas, the long awaited warlord arrives
Dressed in promising attire,
Wearing hope like a battle gear
It gently lures us to a blind date .
With lots of hopes, wishes and dreams we yearn to fulfill our burning desire to live.
From blood to fetus we all are made to toil for months
Difficult a task it is, but toil we must !
A race many win and many lose
A race void of equal fairness to all laborers
Many labor alone, Some labor in twos, Others in threes and fours and a few in numbers close to tens
Some labor for weeks and are sacked before they meet life
Some toil and toil and eventually leave after kissing life once
A few who are lucky, toil for nine months, meet life in good condition and continue to search for answers till death finds them first.
The gift of air is given at the ninth month to successful laborers.
For many who received this gift, death became an apparition.
Life doesn’t treat us equally yet
We fight to remain laborers in the hands of life
We flee when death beckons
To present us with crowns as kings
Even though this warlord’s company settles for just anything,
You find out you are made to lick the fire and dance in the ashes of every bridge you burn
And constantly you are made to watch your past overrun your present as you seek the future
Cuz’ at every turn you’ll find a hand stirring your past
Leaving you to linger in the dents and wonts of your heart
Wondering what the future holds.
As unfair as this warlord is, its laws favor only the gender with a long gun in between their thighs,
Daily this warlord force these laborers to deal with the inner turmoil of doing what’s right or wrong.
For some the warlord allows freedom for evil
For others it punishes them for the thought of evil using a permanent supervisor named “conscience“
One wonders why the permanent supervisor only moves with selected few
And why death is an equal pay for all.
What happens to those who hunt humans in place of animals?
Oh! I learnt.
That death was the only fair master who paid all laborers equally.
And wait!
Did they call life after death “the underworld”?
How come rebirth truly exists?
How come no immortal ever told us mortals the story of the underworld?
Why does everyone clamor for this unfair warlord when the fair master hungers for laborers?
Abort!
This collapsed coping mechanism has left me alamort
I was just a shameful conjugal visit
And a muse for playing with fire
You never questioned me and that's how I know you’re not innocent
You're a walk on a frozen pond;
Irritated on the surface but internally pernicious
I'm an autotelic where my adulation is the dripping ink
And your scorn is the water running over it
Be your own crisis hotline when the shame kicks in
And pierces me like a non-reciprocal “you are not alone in this”
Museum of shortcomings or gallery of honorable attempts?
Ineffable, but I can’t help myself
Relaying this information is the only way I can move on
I'm seeing glimpses of something I should talk to in the corner
But the hand I'm extending has the strength of a signal fire underwater
This can’t be how this ends
I'm disturbingly calm because the dejection hasn't kicked in yet
I put your name on the bullet
so everyone knows you were the last thing that went through my head
You're lacking daytime context
With a fallible idiolect
Pick up a book and read
So a tree can sigh relief that there's life after death
Will heaven open up if I try to heal by decathecting?
My throat is raw from screaming to gods who just aren’t listening
Burdened in ustulation while you pare me from earth's core
It's everything you and distance wanted and more
I'm seeing glimpses of someone I could relate to in the corner
But I’m dissected by the dichotomic voices of psychosis versus candor
Maybe this really is how it ends;
Dying lethargically as I look at the nonexistent watch on my hand
Because time is a construct
Like the plot we say we lost but we outgrew it before we learned how to love
The immortality of fiction is beautiful but cruel
The tacendas come in slicing but they leave just as quickly
The remedies leaves me gutted and demoralized like dangling poultry
A tear dilates into a lake of drowning imposter syndrome
Do you admire me like falling snow?
Or find me too fervidly frigorific to get to know?
Ironic because the visions of you in my head
Are so chilling, I get delusional
and start ripping off my clothes
My tongue lost the motivation of sound before I could even think
I'm an autotelic where my adulation foreordains the dripping ink
I believe we are spiritual beings having a human experience,
We all have a purpose, a divine destiny
Some never fulfill it because their hearts become cold and empty,
Many forces surround us everyday,
Some oppose us while others encourage us to pray,
When you take the time to remove daily distractions,
Close your eyes and simply breathe,
You realize that there is more to this life than your eyes in the natural can perceive,
Miracles occur every day, supernatural experience's some would say
When death comes knocking on your door too soon
Angels guard your life and obey Gods directions to save you from your doom
Science can prove only certain things
It can’t explain why some people have seen angelic wings
Or why some have died and gone to heaven or hell
Come back to earth and live to tell
For as long as man has been, he has pondered the mysteries of life after death
Many religions have books that explain what happens when your time has expired and your spirit has left,
Just gaze your eyes on the ocean tides,
Or watch as the sun each night says it goodbyes,
Observe a butterfly coming out of its cocoon,
Or a seed in the ground growing into a glorious bloom,
Just gawk into space through a telescope,
The billions of stars, planets and invisible ropes,
That connects us to the universe
It brings tears to my eyes and makes my heart want to burst,
When our spirits leave this outer shell,
We will understand what our minds on earth failed to tell,
When we see no more pain in a place with our name,
The sorrows of this life and all the days filled with strife
Will evaporate and wash away,
We will live forever where it’s always day,
We will never grow old or get physically sick,
So don’t take this life too seriously as the hours continue to tick,
Don’t give up when you’re feeling down and want to die,
Because there is a mansion in the sky waiting for you and I,
It’s all a matter of what you believe and if you know God
Eternity is not a silly fairytale or façade,
There is life after death just follow your heart,
It’s no coincidence that people have always known but question where to start,
I can guarantee if you ask God himself,
He will reveal it to you just like he has done for somebody else.
By: Sabina Nicole
written: 1-14-12
contest: life death beyond
Lonely nights and days
Dreaming of a woman that did not exist
Moments of memories without substance
waiting for my soul-mate to stumble into my life
That's when I found her between my consuming thoughts
Ariabelle: A piece of my heart
Each morning, I awake beside her
Wondering if we shared our night's dreams
Shared moments together absent of memories
This morning the air was full of ghosts
I could feel them in the morning breeze
Cold as her skin in winter's snow
Today had an eerie beauty to it
A moment caught in time
That would never fade away
In the car, we drove to the music of Gothic opera
Down the newly paved asphalt streaming through the trees
On our way to the marina to sail together for the first time
Between the closing curtains of day
That's when I told her about how perfect today felt
About my feelings of death today
What would happen if I died
Could you ever survive
Between now to the afterlife
Would you be-able to be happy again
Smiles like moon-light
After the raining of your heart
Could you be strong for me
Live for both of us
With the part of myself that's inside
Sailing together through the lapping waves
Feels like we are on an alien world
The heaven starts to brew with a storm
Cloaking the moonlight and stars
Wind starts to blow our ship on destiny's course
Where I must depart from you for now
Overboard I fell into the freezing water
Screams echoing from my love
Into the rain, lighting, and thunder
Spiraling down the depths of the ocean
Life flashing through my eyes
Holding on as bubbles drift away like angels
Trying to dream one last time
What it will be like when we see each-other again
After death's nap
Life after death
No heaven or hell
Just a remit of energy deteriorating away
Trying to exist for one moment more
My eyes unable to express
All of the emotions that I feel
One last time together
Lying beside my love in bed
Watching her cry herself to sleep
Last words never to be heard
Ghost whispers in the wind
My heart unsure where to begin
Therefore we just sleep and dream
That perhaps before I'm gone
We can be together again in forgotten memories
H e walks down the road
O n the dark twisting never ending road
P ushing past the invisible chains that had once held him back
E arth breaking in bits and pieces, like crumbs from a cake, under his feet
L ooking at the road, but there was nothing there to see
E verything crying out for help but they were hopeless indeed
S oon he saw a glint of light in the dead grass, a sliver of hope,
S topping to see what it was, he saw a key
O nly he saw the key, the key invisible to others passing by, he picked it up and pocketed it
R ising in happiness he walked on, happy for being shown a sliver of hope in the darkness of life
H opping and skipping for joy... he spotted something else, a coin, old and rusted
O n he walked for it held no meaning to him without those whom he held dear to him
P ausing in disgust at the sight of a murky sea full of people
E very crevasse of the sea was filled with dead fish, which the birds picked at
F or all animals were dead due to the pollutants, only that was not what disgusted him
U seless as the murky sea seemed, others were in the murky sea, staying till life’s end
“L ovely isn’t it?” a stranger asked him. All he could do was stare at the man in disgust
“L ovely?!? It a sad excuse of a puddle, that’s what it is, Ugly!” He says and storms away
W alking along the road he came across a gate and became curious
E ven though something inside him told him not to he tried opening the gate anyways
‘L osing patience he tried breaking the lock
L ost in pure curiosity he tried and tried only to fail once again
N ot happy, he tried his one and only option left, jumping the gate
E cstatic that he would finally get over the gate he jumped into the black oblivion
V OOSH!!!
E xpecting to land but falling forever into the black oblivion
R egretting his carless decision
K nowing that it would never end, but wishing it would
N ow as he fell he thought of the ones he left behind on his journey
O n and on he fell down through the black oblivion
‘W hen will it end?’ He asked himself but the answer, I’m afraid, would never come
(Key= Happiness, Coin= Wealth, Pond= Love, and Gate= Life after death)
*****This poem was inspired through the idea of there being no life after death, or the belief in atheism. In recent years more and more young people are commiting suicide; recent studies have shown that there is a commonality between atheism and suicide. My personal belief is that atheism is anti-philosophy; it is not so much the disbelief in God that bothers me (and I'm a theist) --- but what is the alternative? If one digs enough (like this poem implies) there can be no morality or value or meaning to life if we are born, live and die and we are no more; this feeds the subconscious ego which can justify all manner of evil, including extremes as war, racism, indifference --- suicide. I had a friend who was a staunch atheist and now millionaire ---- very high IQ --- when cornered he would admit there was 'something behind life'. It makes my skin crawl to think that some atheists may be telling their children that they'll never see their grandmother again or even themselves after death --- it would be less damaging to 'lie' and say there is a heaven; I think in many ways this is why Christ and others mentioned paradise and heaven because of the psychological consequences of the contrary*****
Oblivion, thou dark star;
so lithe thy face...
so shadowless among the stars
doth thy nativity;
But a word in the hearth of gods and heroes
and the scheme of all things ---
are thee but a word?
So naked thy garb...
nothing ---
to be ashamed of,
but the sanction of fools;
'There is no god...
only I, who cannot but speak ---
save through the naysayers of life;
if they are born, live and die ---
and no more they be, like I ---
to save the world entire...
will be like I,
to destroy it will matter not;
or to save it ---
for no hero shall remain and speak again...'
Oblivion, sometimes so tempting...
to accept thy endless Kiss of Death;
a great sleep where no bed hath a softer slumber...
no pain...
But fear I the long wake,
for what horror shall come of me,
should I long to rise again,
and cannot?
There is a disturbing discrepancy
Between mortals and the spirit world,
Such as the eternal salvation of man
From the curse of sin and its hold.
The paradox of a meek virgin conceiving
After being by the Spirit overshadowed,
And then a perfect chap is born in a manger
Is a narrative of its own peculiar mode.
That in death life was made everlasting
And in suffering relief was won,
Is a creed that requires bravery to embrace,
And great conviction to believe in such a One.
Perhaps the reason why I believe in Him
Is because he only asks that I believe,
Perchance I would abandon my little faith
If was not a mortal so powerless and naïve.
And perhaps the reason why you believe in Him
Is because you only want to look fashionable enough,
Or are simply totally unsure of your afterlife
And fear finding the Judgment Panel so solemn tough.
And maybe your preacher finds it even harder to believe
The tall story he has been telling strangers day by day,
And he maybe he would quit being a peddler of funny tales
Had he another way to earn his keep and his expenses pay.
Perhaps the reason why pagans and agnostics refuse to accept
The story of this Immortal Chap who is reportedly the way and truth,
Is because they find it a bit safer to believe in nothing at all
Than to place such great stakes on the escapades of a Jewish Youth.
Now there’s the little matter of the Helper,
The benign Spirit who descended on the Pentecost
To prove without doubt that the Chap indeed was God,
But then He’s still unseen, and any may claim his presence.
I do not write to spurn the endless graces of the sky
Nor to quash my eligibility to eternal breath,
I without blasphemy observe the uncertainties facing man
And his innocent inquiry into life after death.
To believe in this Jewish Chap who forgave also the unborn
Is a risky business, and one of the greatest tragedies by the way;
The only bigger tragedy being your refusal to believe in Him
And yet find Him at the gates of Paradise on the Judgment Day.
Is there life after death?
By Stanley R Harris
The new mad author
& A poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
Is there life after death?
Did Christ rise from the dead?
If you are a true Christian!
Your faith must not that question.
In days of old word of mouth told.
Of what happened in those far-off days.
Then the word was written down.
By wise men, alas they were so few around.
If Jesus Christ was the son of God!
And came down from heaven to save us lot.
Why then could it not be.
After being crucified and died.
He rose from death for all to see?
Those wise words written long ago!
By wise men who seemed to know.
What the future would portray.
Which still some do not believe to- day!
A bright star they said would show the way.
Where Christ was born and it still shines today.
But crucified, He would be, they also say.
And rise from death on the third day.
Faith is what it’s all about.
Jesus spoke quietly did not shout.
Yet many that called to him.
He helped cure them, freed them from sin.
If I had two glasses of water!
Dissolve salt in one. Not that I ought.
And for water, you did thirst.
Which glass would you drink from first?
Now if I was always known to tell the truth!
Point out the glass that is pure.
That one you would drink I am sure,
And that is what faith or belief is for.
I guess what I am trying to say.
Do you believe and have faith?
Christ did rise on that third day.
As that’s what’s recorded about that day.
Raised in glory gone back home.
From where he did originally roam.
Now Jesus sits at the right hand of God on high.
His rightful place when He did finally die.
The above poem came to me, as BBC radio Suffolk today, Sunday 9 April 2017 Palm Sunday, were discussing they had interviewed some people who are claiming they were Christians did not believe Jesus rose from being dead. He was not the first person to rise from death, was He? As Lazarus was also raised from his tomb. Miracles are not impossible, are they?
Form:
In this beautiful place of worship, the pews are padded but uncomfortable, the sanctuary large, candle lit and cold.
There's a huge glass dome and I can see the stars. Are the stars our fiery heaven??
No, I don't think the stars care about us - they don't burn with affection or passion. And if the stars weren't there we could live with an empty sky.
The Greeks would call our star, the Sun, to perform their acts of God. I imagine most of their prayers went unanswered - not unlike our own??
To me, the whole Jesus story is somewhat sinister and inauspicious, but if Jesus, the son of God, and that whole story were the deepest, truest reality - then why hasn't Jesus returned??
**Imagining heaven's father and son dialog**
God: "Ok, Jesus, time to go back.."
Jesus: "Go back... go back?? Daaaaad... Did you see what they DID to me? Nailed me to a cross! Screw them, there's no way I'm going back. Why don’t you try going back, as an ordinary man - maybe they’ll set you on fire.”
These 20 millennium old bible stories aren't exactly Euclid's logical system.... I mean, the various books aren't even *consistent*. Are these really, I mean really our beliefs? Or are they just kind of *traditions* and good rules to live by?
My parents - unlikely pilgrims of the intoxicating poetry of belief - face front and appear to be listening... in all other things they're so *skeptical* - it's a puzzle.
If Jesus did come back, wouldn't he practically be a caveman surrounded by bewildering technology?
I'm sorry, there's something too rich in creation for these rehearsed responses and fairy-tale fragments from a primitive world to be the answer.
Now I'm not saying there is no God or no life after death.. I.. just..
*hopeless shrug*
So, anyway - I go through the motions, I chant the litanies with the enthusiasm of obedience; just storing up my spiritual loot and hiding my questioning, heathen heart.
Happy Easter Everyone!