Deathly contemplations

Do not weep beside my death-bed,
I am not dead, I am just asleep.
And do not wait for me while I’m in slumber,
I am not asleep, I am just dead.

Do not think of me when I’m alive,
But do not forget me for my deeds.
And do not forget me when I’m gone,
But do not remember me for my sins.

Was it you who sat beside me in my weakest of days?
How did I sound?

Was it you under the sheets with me at night?
How was it?

And was it you in the end
that covered me up with white sheets?
What happened?

How did I look?




Pulled and stretched, I am leaving tracks behind.

Yanked and tangled like a dusty marionette,

I am forced to only heave a long sigh

in the drawer that you have thrown me into.

And although I’m not skillful in this lifetime,

I’ve learned enough to not fall until I do

unto death.

“I know why the caged bird sings” by Maya Angelou

Well, Happy World Poetry Day! I decided to post a poem by Maya Angelou about ones longing for freedom and liberty.

“I’ve lost touch of my human side that I’ve let the bird out of its cage and made it my home”


A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

– Maya Angelou

Will you follow me?


“Will you follow me?”

sketch 28

The world is getting loose and we are a part of it.

Will you follow me?

The pain that I carry is stinging my very heartstrings.

Will you still follow me?

I’ve destroyed my looks to fit in with the Morlocks.

Will you be there?

You smoked me out of my hiding place

and I feel like people view me for some distortion of beauty.

I waited, while I decry my stay in this world.

Friendly faces come and go

sketch 21

Friendly faces come and go,

They rose from the ground as if it were meant for me.

I can recall how a certain conversation was lost

under the creeping snowline.

I almost died during winter,

almost, unfortunately.

Do you remember staring at the stars?

and how it was flickering brightly?

I’ll see you again my friend,

from the skies above you.


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