| Poetry |
| His Joke "I think, therefore I am" Judgement passed Our evidence? The treatment of souls who judge us A mechanism of existence An unmerciful machine of living An average characteristic of bitter human selfishness What is human? A gift from god! Hand crafted with careless faults of despair Piled relentlessly on an infinite heap stamped; Reject Reject! Reject! The mass production of life Its his prize A practical joke So funny when a smile is coined from another frown So hilarious that we laugh upon a life-force that ever decays Remember that time we self-destructed to spite our love? Sidesplitting! God, he laughs at me, he laughs at you Why did the human cross the road? To humour the great mechanic!!! Punch line! Ha! Ha! Our denial lives But "I think, therefore I am" Dav |
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| Pain and misery course through my veins I'm infected with a depression I just can't shake there's no one who can share my burden or at least no one I would allow for me there is no cure no amount of time or love will lessen the grip of my inner demons I'm caught until the end help me won't someone help me? offer me a life line? Take away this pain? |
| Words Emotions and thoughts spin round my head words, nonsensical words I can't form a sentence of what I feel yet I could fill a novel with words no punctuation, no conjunctives no pronouns, only nouns and adjectives I can descibe but I cannot give full description Locked behind the rules of grammar I have nothing to say But words keep pouring into my head Love. I want it I fear it. Hate. me the world. Sleep. I want it forever. I can't function through want of it. Friends. my continuing existence Words that make no sense alone. Ruth |
| Trapped Trapped in a net of my own making I wove the rope to protect me should I fall I worked hard for my future, put in the time and effort to make my safety net strong But somewhere along the way I got tangled in my own net My net of safetly and security has not got me locked in it's grasp I can't break free I made it too well Trapped in a net of my own making Ruth |
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| The Dreaded 'S' Word I think about it constantly - and it sickens me. I disgust mnyself with the seriousness of mythoughts of going through with it, the way I've planned it all. How I'm going to carry it out, where, and what I'm going to tell people. Surely others don't think about it like me? Well - not as much anyway. I know, I should wait until it happens naturally, it shouldn't be planned, it will occur when the gods decide it. NOT when I let my head force it upon me. I have thought about precautions. I don't want to hurt others - or make them catch this terrible disease that plagues me. So maybe I will wait. Maybe life's not that terrible without doing it. Maybe I'll grow out of this thinking. Of the Dreaded Suicide. sam |