Death Poetry

Dead or Alive? What do you prefer? A question so easy to answer That's making wise people cry (Why is the bright sun hiding in plain sight?)

Chair upright An empty club Full of people dancing Ghosts from another time You can only hear them if you're drunk But who are you? Alive or Dead? Ask yourself Does it matter at the end? Only ghosts can dance in the void Knowing that there is nothing there Filled with memories of bright nights They know death is what made them alive!

  The light dies with darkness. But shadows also die. Or so we want to believe. In our little minds who like to take sides. The eternal cosmos is wise though. And it knows that in the morning some dreams die. But some others just begin. And when the night falls, some rejoice. But some cry. Death is the end. But who can stop you from seeing it as a beginning? What do you know of life my friend? Your lovely promising life is what led you to death at the end. Evil usually is concealed behind pretty dress. Pain and suffering were always here. Brought to you by those beautiful warm mornings you always loved. Now that you're dying look at the moon. Does it look sad?

Soaked in the rain. Every breath mine. Waiting for the sun to rise. For my hair to dry. All will be alright. (Feeling sad...) For I know the rain keeps me alive. Everything a mess. You cannot build castles on dry sand...

Scientists analyzing a 2,200-year-old Roman shipwreck found that its hull was coated with pine tar and, in one area, a mixture of tar and beeswax. Pollen trapped in those ancient coatings acted like a geographic fingerprint, revealing the landscapes surrounding the ship when repairs were made. [ 1 ] From bees to a ship. From the mountain to the deeps of the sea. A roman shipwreck. A scientist analyzing what people used to seal the hull. A ship once broken. Repaired so that it can again break the seas. But every travel has an end. People forget. And still, the ocean will still be there. With the promise of young age. With the scent of hope and laughter. Welcoming new voyages that just begin. (With a seabed full of ships...)

Dead from birth The cosmos is alive The trees, the bees. Even the rock in front of me But I cannot be I was dead before I was even born An idea of a living being Not enjoying life But constantly wondering Why anything can be Foolishly happy Roaming purposelessly on this Earth Dead from birth!