Suicide Poems
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Continue readingAn Almost Made Up Poem
by Charles Bukowski
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it' all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I' not jealous
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To Be Amused
by Henry Lawson
You ask me to be gay and glad
While lurid clouds of danger loom,
And vain and bad and gambling mad,
Australia races to her doom.
You bid me sing the light and fair,
The dance, the glance on pleasure's wings –
While you have wives who will not bear,
And beer to drown the fear of things.
A war with reason you would wage
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the lonely freak
by Rumi Ullidov
Instant thoughts of regret
Conquer the maze of deceitful pride
Loss and gain, things I repent
A lonely soul left aside
A bottle of hot water to keep me warm-
In the cold of lonely nights
Songs of melancholy in the background
Reminiscing from freaky heights
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My Will to Live
by Lee-Ann Azzopardi
Can you lend me a fin?
I'm short for package of fags
And, man. I need one
And I lost the will to live
I spent days waiting by my mobile
Only not recieving a word
Not even a text
I guess my lover has abandoned me
But I don't want to talk about
Well, I guess I don't need yr money
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Clinically Unremarkable
by Stuart McCann
Unfortunate endings happen only after wondrous interludes.
What Seuss and Jekyll say about the fall is wrong,
It’s not fast. Not sudden. Not planned.
It’s a three-month-old pencil.
Getting smaller unnoticeably until it’s unworkable and left. Each mark made with purpose and pertinent to the users cause. But importance doesn’t grant immunity to daily wear and tear.
At the end of the fall, there isn’t concrete - another falsified consequence fed by Who.
It’s blankets and a numbness.
A ripcord on anxiety and stressors. A freeing from everything that allowed you fall in the first - then you can soar.
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bouquet of white flowers
by Ella Sophia
i never received flowers
there was none
, not even the color i like
no yellow , no pink , no purple
i never received flowers
only when i was buried
mind buried alive
body deep down at sea
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by aaa bcciii
Continue readingyyyyy
by aaa bccyyyyy
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