Tag: death

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Before and After

We all have multiple lives,
Each wrapped within
Our own timeline.

I was raised in a home
That felt loud
Most of the time.

It was loud for many reasons,

Arguments,
Discussions,
Anger,
Love,
Laughter.

One day, death came along
And silenced that first life.

It visited once more
And silenced my second.

The main difference
With my current life is,

I’m writing the story.

Sadly, that story is set
Within a loud, unsleeping world,

A broken world filled with,
Arguments,
Uninformed discussions,
Where anger is a round orange emoji,
Love, a small red heart,
And laughter
Wears a derisive yellow smirk.

While writing my new life,
In a way, I have become death.

I am the one
Who has brought the silence.
I chose it by design.
To mute the world outside.

So I no longer have to argue.
I don’t have to discuss
Anything I don’t wish to.
Where I have plenty of love,
And laughter when needed.

In the silence I’ve created
I find comfort,

But little hope,

For that loud world
Outside my door.

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The Dark End of the Street

At the dark end
Of the street,

There is a place
I wander to
In my mind.

Away from the houses,
The people,
The noise.

A place that avoids
The amber glow
Of streetlights,

Where open fields
Lie either side
Of the road.

I exist
At the dark end
Of the street,

In the silence,
Where the wind
Blows whispers,

Looking back
At the light
Of those warm
Within their homes.

The dark end
Of the street
Is devoid of
Life,
Warmth,
And hope.

An oak tree grows there.

It is from its fine branches
That I look up this evening,
At my own corpse,
Swaying gently
In the night breeze.

I must wait here,
Beneath the oak,
Until my work
Is discovered
In the morning light.

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A Knights Tale

On the cold hill side I lay,
The cries of battle fading,
My tired body readied to dream,
My thoughts drift beyond this hill,
Beyond my armour,
Beyond this weary body,
Deep into memories,
Of warm sunshine upon green fields,
Silver-mooned evenings among the trees,
Of a soft-lipped kiss,
Of the ocean,
And of distant ships,
As I lay a starry night rolled in,
The birds fell silent,
And my heart beat no more.

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The Scent of Death

There is something about the scent of death,
The odour perplexes the mind,
Pungent, sickly, memorable,
A reminder of everything dark imagined.

It lingers beneath the skin,
Long after the body is gone,
Awakening primal instincts,
Whispering that all flesh is temporary.

We speak of courage and understanding,
We dress mortality in philosophy and faith,
That smell strips away every comforting illusion,
Leaving only the certainty:

That one day we too shall become memory,
A name upon the lips of others,
A shadow lingering in fading recollections,
And silence carried upon the wind.

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The Haunted Halls Within

Torment, torment, anxiety brings such sweet sorrow,
The dim grinding of gears within a mind left dark and hollow,
I have waxed lyrical on my fears, on my oldest friend named Death,
Who lingers at my threshold, patient, cold, awaiting my final breath,
His presence is an icy murmur threaded deep through marrow’s ache,
A keeper of forgotten names and vows I failed to make,
Yet still I pace these haunted halls where fractured thoughts convene,
Among the rust and ruin of all that might have been,
For ignorance bears honeyed lips while poison stains her tongue,
And grief hums ancient hymns where youth once brightly sung,
While somewhere in the blackened hush beyond this mortal veil,
A deathly silence waits for me, with open arms forever pale.

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Knight of Sorrow

A sullen knight battles the grisly spectre of death,
Armour and silvered sword shine in desperate combat,
Death’s cape of plague and sorrow flows in the icy breeze,
The scythe of reaping clutched within hands of cold bone,
The brave knight battles through sunlight and starshine,
But death is always one step ahead, cunning and sure,
At the knight’s feet, ebony serpents rise from the earth,
Beasts of childhood dreams encircle and entangle feet,
Fangs bared and biting they savage the knight,
Death adders with scales of shining blackened silk,
Invade the knight through necrotic flesh, burrowing,
Coiling within his gut to create a liquifying den of snakes,
Death claims his prize and the fallen knight is laid waste,
A once brave soul, left to putrefy within his armoured shell.

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When I die

I will die before my time,
At 3am my heart will fail,
It will read, I died in my sleep,
But I can assure you,
I will be wide awake.

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The Persistence of Time

Why does part of me always seek the harshest feelings?

Why am I never content when I am at rest?
Peace arrives, but never lingers.
It is as though my mind searches endlessly
For darker paths to follow,
Unable to remain still,
Unable to be calm and content.

A relentless pursuit haunts my sleep
And shadows my waking hours.
I do not want it.
I do not welcome it.
Yet it remains.

I seek comfort in the hunt for things that bring me pleasure,
While some hidden part of me knows
That one day they will be beyond my reach.

So I collect.
I stockpile.
I obsess.
I spend.
I continue the hunt.

Everything is catalogued.
Everything is placed in perfect order.
Everything except me.

I see darkness gathering on the horizon,
And I fear the grey days it may bring.
I am no longer certain
That I possess the strength
To walk that long road back into the light.

I do not want that future,
Yet it feels inevitable.

I resent the persistence of time
And the silent murders it commits.
Time is never held accountable.
It stands before no court
And answers for none of its crimes.

Lifespan, not death itself,
Is the true ticking bomb within the mind.

There is no turning back,
Only a subtle pushing forward
By unseen hands.

Dark days may be coming.
I do not want them.

Yet still they approach.

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Wreckage

A morning sun packs early heat, high in the sky,

After a dark night of wreckage and ruin,

Another mother mourns the loss of a son,

As crows cry for carrion on the green roadside.

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