Death Poetry

All posts in the Death Poetry category

Rebel Never Dies

Published January 15, 2016 by atirahjewel

So this is it?
He’s returned to the stars,
The Starman who fell to Earth,
Then sold the world,
To make sure that there is always life on Mars.

God bless the girl who weeps fountains,
For there is no other to compare to her lost hero.
People on the streets would stop an stare at how
He was always dancing on top of the world,
Dancing out in space.

At times it seemed like
The lad was insane,
But he just dared to change his way
Of caring about himself,
The prettiest Star.

The dream of him
Filled us all with the fascination
Of his animal grace
Which, sure enough,
Takes a part of us, when we’re loving the alien.

We wanted him to stay, we meant to say but didn’t,
Now we’re watching him dash away to his bed of dead roses,
And light becomes darkness
As the world is shaken by reality and falls down,
And the stars look very different today.

Now where shall we live,
Since he left us for a new career in a new town?
This is the heart’s filthy lesson;
Big brother has left us to join the Gang,
Something in us dies.

We are the dead and he is our Candidate in a tin machine,
The future legend of the past,
Oh! How we wished he would stay in our lover’s story,
But he was a little wonder, unwashed and somewhat slightly dazed,
Who was looking for satellites.

Now I know it ain’t easy
To hang onto yourself when your cracked actor freaks out in a moonage daydream,
But just pretend you’re walking home when the wind blows.
Keep growin’ up and keep telling lies,
So you can drive through the panic in Detroit.

Then you can live your occasional dream
With your Star,
That wild-eyed boy from Freecloud,
But then you realise you can’t,
Because he’s gone and it’s got us all in a whirl.

10 days after wishful beginnings, 2 after celebration,
Nothing remains and God only knows
How we’re all jazzin’ for the return of the Thin White Duke.
Sunday, everything has changed,
It’s the beginning of the end.

So where the fuck did Monday go?
It went to Sorrow, Pain and Confusion.
It went to Life and Death
And was taken away by Time,
Who was waiting in the wings.

We’re drowning in the memory of a free festival,
So let’s dance tonight from station to station
In honor of the spaceboy who was our hero forever and ever,
So we can be heroes, even if just for one day.
Never let me down, Major, fill your heart with these changes.

Ashes to ashes,
Look back and don’t look down,
And I say to myself,
“Monday’s gone but I promised
To love you ’till Tuesday.”

Hours pass and
The new Angels of promise
Are taking our hot tramp on a brilliant adventure,
A fantastic voyage,
Riding on a golden horse.

5:15, the Angels have gone.
9:25, thank God I’m still alive
I kneel before the grave of the New Killer Star,
With five years stuck on my eyes,
9:26, my Death waits there.

There’s something in the air,
The sound of teenage wildlife,
As they scream like babies
Because they’re young,
Being thrown into the South horizon.

The secret life of Arabia,
Where our kingdom come,
And our king awaits,
Out of this criminal world,
Into his real cool world.

He lies among the stars that never sleep,
They are never far away
So the last thing you should do
Is dream that he has faded from his throne,
Because it’s only forever, not long at all.

He’ll come, He’ll go.
He will lay belief of modern love on you
When he traps you with those beautiful eyes,
And skin is sweet with his musky oil
But he’s never gone.

Go outside,
Look up there, he’s in heaven.
In heaven, but still here,
Because he’s the Rebel
And Rebel never gets old.

Rebel never dies.
Ain’t that just like him?

Copyright © 2016
by Atirah Jewel

And So It Ends

Published December 31, 2015 by atirahjewel

After all this time,

I’m still lamenting the absence of wings on my back.

I’m still tortured by the truth of being where I am now,

Not being where I was

Or where I’d like to be.

Though time is moving and jumping forward,

I’m still struggling with my inability to turn it backwards.

And yet, I know I can’t.

I’d dream a dream so beautiful that after all these years,

I couldn’t help but cling to it.

And now I know,

And now I’m finally realising,

I have got to give it up.

And so it ends,

And so it’s over.

This is me saying goodbye to my tragic fantasy,

And saying thank you to all of the wonder it filled me with.

I’m gone and so is she.

And I’m sorry, my love,

But she’s gone and she has to be.

My heart is breaking off into shards,

I’m drowning in this ocean of tears,

My hands are shaking in pain and fear,

I’m dying within myself,

I want to hold on,

I want to wake up to my darling dream,

But now I know,

And I now declare,

No matter how much hope and wish and try

To bring this bliss back,

It’s already dissolved into me.

And so it ends,

And so we end.

I’m sorry, my sweet love,

I’m sorry, my holy dear,

But she’s gone.

She’s gone now.

And so it ends.

The End.

Copyright © 2015
by Atirah Jewel

Perhaps A Fantasy

Published June 10, 2014 by atirahjewel

This feels too controlled.
Completely in control,
While indefinitely knowing I am not.
But the feeling
Of this pen on this parchment,
Of the thoughts formed,
Of the music that plays,
All known to myself.
Words I will remember in the morning
As having written down
Before my thoughts
Strayed to more desperate things.

How can Time and Space
Be split,
Manipulated, so to speak,
So I may enjoy it as it had
Led me to believe I would?
Underneath that rotten façade of beauty
Comes the real face of being.
A man-made existence of time
Distributes itself under the spell of the Gods.
How can I feel the weight of control
In my hands
When it is a falsified existence
To dignify and comfort man?

To what degree must I suffer
Before recognising and realising,
The hideous truth
Of my own potential
To posses and bend time and space
And matter that makes up the Universe,
Multi-verse even, perhaps.
Soon my script will be unreadable
To even me,
It’s maker and creator.
For the hand betrays the mind,
And in turn, the pen betrays the hand.
In truth, meaning,
The hand, in all senses,
Betrays its own primal desire,
To disobey.

One moment,
Time is here,
Offering the same offer
It had offered once before.
In the remembrance, I plead.
Sentenced to the last of my sane days,
On my knees
Pleading with the man perceived time
To grant me any favour of power
To manipulate it so as to
Create for me,
A doorway
To travel desperately through
And live in a place completely
Before my time.
Where I had been born,
And killed,
And born from again
In the wrong sentence.

Now, after a quick glance at
Surroundings of unknown origins,
I forget
Every desire but one;
The one of Love.
A Love more pure
Then I’d ever dreamed before.
The only dream tears have been shed for,
And I have begged to live.
A version of me,
Before this version of me,
Living engulfed in music
And responsibility.
Drowning in instruments,
Blissfully dying under the sounds
Of voices, carrying me through the air
As if I was floating.

A hug, a kiss,
A bond of love shared
Between my soul and my soul.
Build a dream of Life in a manner
That I’ve never dreamed,
But instead envisioned.
Cut me in half,
Cut me into small pieces,
And I still won’t weep as much,
My heart still won’t bleed as much
As did when I was startled
By the cruel realisation
That my dream was nothing
Of a dream to be,
But instead, perhaps a fantasy.
One of ideal places and people,
Skills and thoughts and friendships and doubts
Ever doomed under the cloud
Of failure.

Death would be a mercy,
Welcomed and invited in,
As compared to the thought
Of living my life in a time
After my time.
A place I shouldn’t live in
In the manner I live in it;
Instead of in the way I am truly meant
To live and fatedly meant to die.
Pushed underwater and held by
Dreams of the beyond-world dimension
That await me so I can be
Further blessed with the Love I
Once soberly dreamt of,
And now highly plead for.
Into the Darkness, I’ll close my eyes,
And open my mind and heart to
The unforeseen, impossible possibilities of
This world and the next.

Copyright © 2014 by
Atirah Jewel

Please Don’t Cry

Published February 26, 2014 by atirahjewel

You may note the copyright notice on this poem reads ‘2013’ instead of ’14. That’s because I actually wrote this in the Summer of 2013, and it’s been sitting in my drafts ever since. I wasn’t satisfied with it and, to be frank, am still not. I thought and think it was/is typical and bland, no flavour of it’s own whatsoever. But, as is rather apparent on my blog, not every poem can be a hit and poets must suffer a few (or several) misses here and there. It only crowds my drafts so I hope you enjoy. Or don’t, either way, it’s here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are my sun,

You are my sky,

Your glittering beauty should only be found in flowers,

I wish I had the wings to fly you away.

I see you in my dreams,

And such a beautiful dream you are,

One that brings tears to my eyes,

But you,

Please don’t cry.

I was trapped in my dream until I finally awoke to you,

Let me dry your tears,

Let me fly you away,

Hopefully one day we will be together,

One day I will get those wings,

One day we can once more die.

Copyright © 2013 by
Atirah Jewel

Should Death be so sweet…

Published February 20, 2014 by atirahjewel

Should Death be so sweet,
As to come take me away,
To ring my bell, nice and proper,
I should go with this sweet Death,
With an air of exceptional sweetness myself.
And should I go,
Ever so politely,
With this Death so sweet,
I would dress in my finest garb,
And don my Tuesday hat.
I would kiss my wife goodbye for me, darling Death,
And Death would take my hand,
Sing me soft melodies,
Whilst watching the world weep on their shoulder,
And I, bid farewell to this tragic life.
But this, of course, might only happen,
Should sweet Death,
Ring at my door.

Copyright © 2014 by
Atirah Jewel

Quickly, Swiftly…

Published December 20, 2013 by atirahjewel

Quickly, swiftly,
The body decomposes before it’s in the ground,
The wounds that once dripped blood now seep with pus.

Deeper, lower,
The ground falls as the grave is dug,
The grass that once flourished green is now but a mound of dirt.

Heaviest, darkest,
The night sky becomes as the corpse is tossed in the ditch,
The heart that once beat proud and strong is now just a stone.

Moved, determined,
The hand the works to refill the ground becomes,
The shovel that once lay dormant is thrown back into use.

Quietly, softly,
I creep from the seed I planted,
The ground that once lay undisturbed shall now bloom with lilies.

Copyright © 2013 by
Atirah Jewel