Poetry Blogs (Suicide)
Brian Maryon on Record Number of Migrants Cross The Channel - Aug 6 (5 hours ago)
In a dusky morning, the sun was setting,
Wanted to scream in a silent mic.
No more of this frustration, no more of this hatred,
Death was the only freedom came to his mind.
Listening to the people, listening to himself he realised,
Many a things don't matter, So does his life.
Losing his hobby, his like, his ego, his pride.
Losing his humanity, was what it was like.
'Try to stay po...
Wednesday 8th July 2020 3:10 pm
It has been two years today
Since I have had a fight with my then girlfriend
And, crying bitterly, I entered the living room
Replied to my father’s concerns
And let him know his daughter was dating a girl.
No wonder he hasn’t spoken to me since.
But, this poem isn’t about me
And nor is it about a cousin sister of mine
Whose phone was found in the living room
Full with smuts and gay storie...
Friday 29th May 2020 2:06 pm
i know, i know
if i was to fall
(will you cry?)
at my funeral
but if that's
what it takes
for you to think of me, then
I guess, well I guess
it's time for me to leave.
but no matter how hard,
how very hard I try
I can't leave, to leave
to leave is to die
and I can't do that
my momma would cry
I don't know anymore
D R O ...
Sunday 26th April 2020 5:45 am
the pain stays, the pain always stays
that's the funny thing about grief,
it is like taking the weight of the sorrows of the dead.
the sadness now trickled out of them and spread across their friends and families.
the pain doesn't end.
the pain is there when your friend gets the phone call,
as she drops her phone and screams, and rolls on the floor crying.
the pain conti...
Thursday 2nd April 2020 10:56 pm
When sun comes against all odds
And the colours of life just pop
Or when the rain falls
It falls and falls
And you wet your lips
With piping hot tea
With warm biscuit
Savour the crumbs
Cosy and safe
In the arms of a jumper
The padding of the sofa,
Like a huge hug
Or when your face aches,
Your stomach vibrates
Because you are fighting to breathe
Tuesday 18th February 2020 5:52 am
Twas the dawning of Father's Day, so said Facebook
Not a feeling was stirring, not even a fuck.
No flowers were planted by the headstone with care
Cos a mad pauper's grave can have no headstone there.
The children were restless, and not in their beds
Cos visions of suicide danced in their heads
Of white overalls and of tablets and shame
And sickness and pimping, a life quite insane.
Monday 6th January 2020 4:49 pm