Poet's Grave - Poem by Christopher Teale
The only means to survival is death,
For I die to poetry,
I die to humanity,
to survive as a parody to man.
I bleed out the wholesomeness of words
Leaving behind the carcass
Of one who no longer is, but was
A voyager among the stars.
Must the essence die to cope
with this rotten world?
Must the soul be sold?
To feed the beastly engine of society
T’is a ghastly death for a flower
I weep! I weep!
The road, so steep!
Death! Death to all that is life!
This is the philosophy of the world
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye