Coffin

Sitting in my coffin

I'm just sitting in my coffin. 
I forgot my cold tea on the table.
I'm six feet under on the second floor.
Untidy little coffin. Untidy leaking brain.
My ear is itching on the inside.
Must be the worms.
I can move my fingers still.
That's fine, I don't need them.
I'm just sitting in my coffin.

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A Coffin

 All set is a coffin,

 

A new home for a cadaver,


 To lay within,


 The gigantic earth, the home bigger.  

 

 

A coffin is like a vehicle,

 

That leads the body without soul,


 To that space eternal,


 Perish both attaining the goal.


 

A coffin embraces all, it knows no racism ever,


 A safe haven for an ascetic, an adulterer, a thief even a murderer.

 

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LIFT HIM HIGH.

Lift him high
to the sky

 

raise him
on your shoulders

 

rest his coffin
by your head

 

your brother's dead
carry me

 

he said
once in jest

 

raise him steady
off you go

 

hold firm
for tears will flow

 

his favoured song
Over the Rainbow

 

tones you in
we all follow

 

gutted empty
feeling hollow

 

full of sorrow

hand in hand

 

tearful eyes
hold him steady

 

sisters
brothers

 

keep him close
to heart and head

 

carry me
he once said

 

lay him gently
let his coffin lay

 

let him sleep
in God's rest

 

you have given all
you have done him proud

 

you have carried high
the best.

 

Sleep on
loving brother

 

dearest son
rest as you can

 

our close-knit kin
our young brave man.

 

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Hide - February 21, 2013

Conflict's repitition leads to progression severed;

a life in which the enemy you're no better.

Outrages, rampages, fights beyond any cause

lead to a world in which you're no better off.

 

The only resolution to a problem so unreal

is to find a place where you no longer feel.

The pain of others on your life already cold,

forces you to hide to cover up what you're told.

 

I need to escape from all these lies;

these indescribable pains, all the time..

I need to recover, to get a hold on myself.

I will discover what truth is left at all.

 

I sit alone in the blackness of reason;

a pathetic target for the others to tease on.

I don't want to face the pain of publicity,

but I cannot stand the pain of no honesty.

 

Cover me in paint, lock me in my coffin,

never let me see, let not any light in.

I need to be concealed, need to be away

from the lies, scars, and pains of every day.

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