FACING ONE’S (INEVITABLE) DEMISE The raging flames of my nightmares, The explosions of imagination Would leave nearly none behind for my identification. How much more should I expect since the age of nine, albeit crucifixion? What else might one perceive? A believer in Murphy’s Law, I call it in part my own. (perhaps it’s an Irish the or maybe I just drone). My demise I’ll never see and prefer that I don’t. Although, I hope it sensational, I know I’ll be alone, No hand to hold, no name to call, this is my fate. Yet I have foreseen it for some time. It nearly seems innate. Others, the less aware, may find me rather freakish as I learn the ways of death. If they knew, I’m sure they’d wish That they were so bequeathed. I can see salivating death, fully prepared for me. Some fools think it avoidable. The truth, they refuse to see. We cannot cheat the Reaper or whatever he may be called. If others would look a tidbit deeper, Right now I mayn’t be galled. One day we shall go away, Whether we choose or not. Some are sure enough to say, “The fear of once is not.” One’s time is like the lottery. It is but a simple draw. In truth we must love what we’ve got And let none under our craw. By no means underestimate death. For he/ she is no flirt. The more you taunt the Reaper, The sooner you’ll find yourself in dirt. -Margaret Marley *Death is one of the few constants in the human world. Soooo not suicidal. This poem is my point of view, nothing more, nothing less. So nobody needs to call the loony bin. I’m freaking Existential & even when I go Nihilist, I know I’m no inferior so there’s no place on * “the poisoned tree” for me. * Thus Spake Zarathustra FACING ONE’S (INEVITABLE) DEMISE The raging flames of my nightmares, The explosions of imagination Would leave nearly none behind for my identification. How much more should I expect since the age of nine, albeit crucifixion? What else might one perceive? A believer in Murphy’s Law, I call it in part my own. (perhaps it’s an Irish the or maybe I just drone). My demise I’ll never see and prefer that I don’t. Although, I hope it sensational, I know I’ll be alone, No hand to hold, no name to call, this is my fate. Yet I have foreseen it for some time. It nearly seems innate. Others, the less aware, may find me rather freakish as I learn the ways of death. If they knew, I’m sure they’d wish That they were so bequeathed. I can see salivating death, fully prepared for me. Some fools think it avoidable. The truth, they refuse to see. We cannot cheat the Reaper or whatever he may be called. If others would look a tidbit deeper, Right now I mayn’t be galled. One day we shall go away, Whether we choose or not. Some are sure enough to say, “The fear of once is not.” One’s time is like the lottery. It is but a simple draw. In truth we must love what we’ve got And let none under our craw. By no means underestimate death. For he/ she is no flirt. The more you taunt the Reaper, The sooner you’ll find yourself in dirt. -Margaret Marley *Death is one of the few constants in the human world. Soooo not suicidal. This poem is my point of view, nothing more, nothing less. So nobody needs to call the loony bin. I’m freaking Existential & even when I go Nihilist, I know I’m no inferior so there’s no place on * “the poisoned tree” for me. * Thus Spake Zarathustra FACING ONE’S (INEVITABLE) DEMISE The raging flames of my nightmares, The explosions of imagination Would leave nearly none behind for my identification. How much more should I expect since the age of nine, albeit crucifixion? What else might one perceive? A believer in Murphy’s Law, I call it in part my own. (perhaps it’s an Irish the or maybe I just drone). My demise I’ll never see and prefer that I don’t. Although, I hope it sensational, I know I’ll be alone, No hand to hold, no name to call, this is my fate. Yet I have foreseen it for some time. It nearly seems innate. Others, the less aware, may find me rather freakish as I learn the ways of death. If they knew, I’m sure they’d wish That they were so bequeathed. I can see salivating death, fully prepared for me. Some fools think it avoidable. The truth, they refuse to see. We cannot cheat the Reaper or whatever he may be called. If others would look a tidbit deeper, Right now I mayn’t be galled. One day we shall go away, Whether we choose or not. Some are sure enough to say, “The fear of once is not.” One’s time is like the lottery. It is but a simple draw. In truth we must love what we’ve got And let none under our craw. By no means underestimate death. For he/ she is no flirt. The more you taunt the Reaper, The sooner you’ll find yourself in dirt. -Margaret Marley *Death is one of the few constants in the human world. Soooo not suicidal. This poem is my point of view, nothing more, nothing less. So nobody needs to call the loony bin. I’m freaking Existential & even when I go Nihilist, I know I’m no inferior so there’s no place on * “the poisoned tree” for me. * Thus Spake Zarathustra FACING ONE’S (INEVITABLE) DEMISE The raging flames of my nightmares, The explosions of imagination Would leave nearly none behind for my identification. How much more should I expect since the age of nine, albeit crucifixion? What else might one perceive? A believer in Murphy’s Law, I call it in part my own. (perhaps it’s an Irish the or maybe I just drone). My demise I’ll never see and prefer that I don’t. Although, I hope it sensational, I know I’ll be alone, No hand to hold, no name to call, this is my fate. Yet I have foreseen it for some time. It nearly seems innate. Others, the less aware, may find me rather freakish as I learn the ways of death. If they knew, I’m sure they’d wish That they were so bequeathed. I can see salivating death, fully prepared for me. Some fools think it avoidable. The truth, they refuse to see. We cannot cheat the Reaper or whatever he may be called. If others would look a tidbit deeper, Right now I mayn’t be galled. One day we shall go away, Whether we choose or not. Some are sure enough to say, “The fear of once is not.” One’s time is like the lottery. It is but a simple draw. In truth we must love what we’ve got And let none under our craw. By no means underestimate death. For he/ she is no flirt. The more you taunt the Reaper, The sooner you’ll find yourself in dirt. -Margaret Marley *Death is one of the few constants in the human world. Soooo not suicidal. This poem is my point of view, nothing more, nothing less. So nobody needs to call the loony bin. I’m freaking Existential & even when I go Nihilist, I know I’m no inferior so there’s no place on * “the poisoned tree” for me. * Thus Spake Zarathustra
Posted on: Sat, 06 Jul 2013 08:40:08 +0000