Tag Archives: pain

All Pain Ends

One day, the devils own
Survive suprise everything
Anyone, any boulder falling
Too sharp. Undull.
A gathering and death of seagulls.
The vultures that pick.
Corpses devoured and souls untethered.
Such a troubled spirit.
Such a darkened tide.
In me would you confide?
Devil says he owns
But even his lease expires.
Why perspire? All fade
Each light dies.
Every pain ends.
Close your eyes.
Is a light still lit when no eyes perceive?
Will a shadow remain and still deceive?
You do not see, you cannot know
Say to yourself: “I am free.”
If you do not open your eyes
You cannot prove them lies.
Another day, the devils own,
He then sits upon his throne.
One of lies. His own.
Embrace your suffering, all pain ends.
The vultures picking bones do tend
To become a feast for worms.
Even the devil will eventually burn.

Nihilistic Optimism

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Life is pain and then you die.
Why should I bother to even try?
Days pass by quickly,uncaring.
They do not ask how I am fairing.
It makes no difference, this or that.
It won”t take much to see where I’m at,
In the ocean cold.
Slowly sinking, grasping soul.
Treading water just prolongs,
My end, the bottom, where I belong.

But life is joy before you die!
And joy and love! Still we cry.
Something so fickle and sweet as life
Becomes fermented and stale with time.
One should not wish it to be forever
That it should continue, ending never.
We all end up at the bottom it’s true
Before then I’ll be with you,
Spending the happy hours,
Loving, laughing, avoiding sour
Looks and words that would stain
Our souls if from within they came.

Let the day pass by so quickly!
I’ll not be one who, sickly,
Sits and waits and wastes the time,
What little we have, like a slime,
Trapped on the edge of the ocean, not in it,
Not loving life, but afraid of it.
Life is pain and darkness frightening,
The end comes quickly before the ripening.
In this small time, I’ll make the most
Never fearing the inevitable ghost.
No sorrow in death. It is and it must.
Then we live on, after first turning to dust.

Weary Paws

On weary paws
Through stretched out days
Blood stained claws
To memory fades.
“No rest for the wicked”
An unfair sentiment?
Because he’s unrestful
Means he’s not innocent?
Onward he plods
Through wind and though rain.
Those looking down,
Unaware of his pain.
Unaware and uncaring
The crowd stares on.
Mountains cold and glaring,
Bear has been gone so long.
Gone with no place to rest.
His cave found empty
He sleeps. Hoping for the best:
A welcoming dawn to see.

In a Different Life

In a different life
This pain she feels isn’t hers alone.
On this path there’s more than one shadow,
In a different life.
And in that different life, of which she often dreams.
There are hands to help her,
There are arms to hold her,
There is good and joyful news that’s told her.
There is a day without strife.
In that different life.
She stands and stirs from her daydream
Not seeing the faces in between.
The faces of those who wait.
Those who would help, that she does not contemplate.
Then she falls and cries out, to the void she thinks.
And crys again when she opens her eyes,
Surrounded by the faces and the hands of those who try,
And they who love and assist,
Thinking she was alone and not missed,
She never realized that her different life was this.

In the Long Run

A pain tomorrow,
Bought with the blood of today.
Could not have seen this?

Before Your Time

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I gave you wings and then you died,
Without having a chance to fly.
The hand that stares into the sky,
While life is slowly passing by.
As a slowly sinking ship in the rain,
Above and below the waters prevent gain,
Passing no doors to escape pain.
Closed doors, closed windows, all the same.
You will never know the clouds,
From behind that darkened shroud.
You’ll won’t feel the sun on your face, above the ground.
Six feet under, listening for the sound,
Of the final bells, calling you home.
There, wait for me while I bury your bones.
You first, but soon I’ll join your soul,
After my work done and I’ve paid my toll.

A Wound in Time, May

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Once was there and not before,
One more passing through pains door.
Then done and something left behind
Another lost memory left inside.
Was it lost or left? How to know?
The clues are in the wake of it so,
An echo in soon forgotten halls, fade.
Something not unlike a mythic creature made.
Its evanescence in a place,
That one wouldn’t want to chase.
In time a wound may purify or heal;
Will one endure more pain to caurerise and seal?