Where does life take you when death comes at your door. - A Poetic Practice.
Death is among us taking us in its grip and not letting go when we try hard to rip, rip away from its grasp as it slowly tightens the dark our breath as gasp.
Nature takes its course, of course, anything and everything are a cycle of life and death with everything to lose but nothing to gain unless of course its nuclear rain.
Hope for anything never wane unless of course you've gone insane, now here is the kicker for anything that is a fire wicker, like a quick time ticker, ticker taping your way into anything to take yourself away from all this life baker.
It's always a thing of beauty when you see things just take shape as innocents all feel the rape, being taken like a punnet of grape, easy pickings.
It's never a pretty face when you are running from all things like a death race even pet get vicious when you take things away, and food becomes spaghetti lace.
Who's side are you on, when does one see the death con, it's really about the message you send when you think about what you get and envisage.
Torn between showing something brutal so you get to see life as a a picture in total but hesitate for your metal state especially if I am unsure you if can stomach the taste.
Even in life victory you find no escape worth the price unless you find how you are going to get under the tide washing lives for a bitter ride.
Its never a pretty face when you see something so cute become the one thing you had thought was never going to be a brute.
I am going to end this by saying this is not for the faint hearted and will require you be staunch when things are feeling like the end of the world is here. I have a tendency to think about things when I see things with my eyes either rosy coloured or not blurry from a night out enjoying life then suffering from life's enjoyment. A conundrum. @noodlypanda tagging you since this is a poetic prose practice, hope you didn't chuck.
I was listening to this podcast while composing this practice as it came to my feed at the time I was looking for some background noise.
This was very well written and paints the picture you're after very well. Thanks for tagging me.
No problems.
I am still unsure as to my progress, I will have to read a few more poetic prose just to get my head around it.
I know it's challenging but when you finish a piece it feels good.
That it does.
What a great poetic piece dear friend, akumagai. Perhaps death is something that hurts me when someone I loved is not with me anymore, but we just have to be reminded that everything is borrowed in the world, and only the Creator holds. More poetic verses from you! Enjoy your day and take care.
Loss is always a grim reality, some get them early in the morning while some experience them through out the day as others feel them at the ebb of night.
There's a book authored by C. S. Lewis called A Grief Observed.
That's when I encountered his term "cosmic sadist" in reference to the creator and in the context of spite for letting a thing called life and death be the way they are.
The term just stuck with me whenever I contemplate about existential dread and death.
I've not heard of the b title however you're description 'dread and death' is very dark and grim like description.
When I get contemplative about death my go to is "Bushido, the soul of Japan" by Inazo Nitobe.
It's a process but most are preoccupied with the highlight event than the steps to get to that event. Even accidents get their small window period where people had a microcosmic process of feeling their mortality before they go. And this piece of truth is different for everybody. I can't be assed to assume life is the way it is based from my view on someone else's experience/truth, the same thing goes when someone deals with death.
We just see the same phenomenon and can still draw out different conclusions. I see death and dread being finite, some see it as freedom, and some other person around the world thinks it's another round of reincarnation.
Your view on it would definitely be more on the unique side especially, no amount of normalcy in having access to mortality. So to speak.
I didn't think it was odd, some would probably have a better grasp the view if they can articulate it. Seeing dead bodies fresh, rigid and sometimes bathed in formalin gives a different experience per case. Probably one of game changing moments about contemplating death is seeing a cramped room full of dead bodies from orderly to stacked disorderly during the height of pandemic.
I can guess some of the folks there had some semblance of living a comfortable life, some had a hard life based from the calluses on their palms and specific muscle groups more developed for manual labor than others but most bodies need a closer look to give those hints. Social status had no bearing there, everyone is naked and had a backstory of some sort why they didn't get claimed. Those lump of dead meat sacs once lived and had a name but everyone looked equal in death.
all naked bodies look equal until they are next to a pigmy black man with an elephant trunk.
Part 2 of the current 2/7 existing cursed videos.
Part 1 was already considered lost media.
This is beautifully written. I do want to learn more on how to write prose in poetry, @akumagai .
Thank you.
There is still hollowness in prose for me, at only two compositions there is still an echo in my head as I say the words when I write them, practice will tell if come a day when that echo will resonate.
I assume, practice makes perfect @akumagai .
🤞 Have a nice day.
Death is the invisible curtain between this realm and the next. It is as powerful as life itself... A path for the living to acknowledge that they are mortals and the grave is choosing when to whisper their names and for the leaving to transition to the next life.
I find your pieces soul-searching and profound :)
Parting words are always held
It's effect felt for years on end
Forever feeling time beheld
Longing past memories send.
Thank you.