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Poems

There's a few poems here. They are quite strange and eerie but don't be put off!

The Travelling Kitten

There once was a kitten called Mittens,
She roamed a nice place called Britain,
She went up to Scotland, then to Wales then back,
Until her fur had many a splitten.

Then she visited a new place,
It was empty with lots of space,
She settled down there and purred in pleasure,
And slept in an old guitar case.

A Place called Home

 

Death is plunging,

Down the long trend line of a graph,

It quivers slightly at the start,

Then topples over, falling fast,

Zooming down,

Like the long drop of a cliff.

 

Death is plunging,

It was foretold many years ago,

Since then, the viruses have been overcome,

The support machine has been upgraded twice,

So many have lost their life,

But that doesn't happen any more.

 

Death is plunging,

On the verge of extinction,

There is no escape for it,

It's trapped in a net,

Like all those poor Dodo's,

And other animals before it.

 

Death is plunging,

You can no longer smell it in hospitals,

Life is too clean,

To be bothered with the grime of death,

It's been wiped away,

With the aid of Mr Muscle.

 

Death is plunging,

It can't exist anymore,

But it is smiling,

For Death knows the price,

Of trying to cheat itself

'It was foretold many years ago'

 

Death is vanishing,

It no longer survives,

Still humans find the price of death too high,

They cannot pay it,

No one can,

To accept Death back into Earth,

Who would want that?

 

Death is smiling,

The deadline is soon,

Accept back Death or live in agony,

The oldest man and woman met,

They knew what was happening,

Together they knew their time was up.

 

Death is laughing,

It can see Earth now,

Looking at certain parts,

Humans have over bred,

There is no room to move,

Yet humans still fight off death,

Death is howling,

It tastes fresh blood,

It hasn't smelt it for years,

For the cramped up Earth,

Is forced to accept its death,

There is no other choice.

 

Death is hunting,

It is crowding the Earth,

Torturing anyone who steps in its path,

There is no alternative, experts say,

For Death has taken all living things,

Including the entire planet.

 

Death is mourning,

It has no prey,

But it was worth it,

The destruction of Earth,

Death is merciless and no longer cares,

Death has destroyed the entire universe.

 

Death is floating,

Nowhere to go,

It is injured and sad,

Yet in the dark space of nothingness,

A pinprick of light appears,

Death is eager and moves towards it.

 

Death is happy,

It has found a place to rest,

No more fighting humans,

No more universe,

It hears a loud voice calling loudly,

It steps into the light.

 

Death is crying,

It is so happy,

A place to go,

A place called home,

A place called heaven . . .

. . . home.

Nothing

 

Words twist in and out of your mouth like an intrusive cobra crushing its prey.

Your tongue moves yet the sound it creates means nothing to me.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.

 

 

Grey tubing here named a microphone is shoved under my throat.

I am forced to speak into the speakers there so I open my mouth yet nothing comes out.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.

 

 

Looking around, all small red eyes are upon me, waiting for my response.

All of you expect me to answer so I stare at the blank ground and begin to think nothing.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.

 

 

You all increasingly grow impatient and someone shouts out and curses me.

I look up and I lean on the desk in front of me, no expressions on my face.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.

 

 

I speak; “You’re questions have the meaning of nothing and so I can only give one answer.”

I frown as if I am considering and stroke my chin. “‘Nothing’ cannot be answered.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.”

 

 

“You may see me as a senseless author, publishing a range of books inadequate for some minds.

I see myself as a provider of thoughts, nothing more.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.”

 

 

A cry of anger could be heard throughout the hall and I am quickly whipped away into a car.

Through the night I heard news of riots through news bulletins; I still feel nothing.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.

 

 

The small curse of writing is that you have a strong mind on particular subjects.

When you write down your thoughts in fiction form, readers are never likely to feel nothing.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.

 

 

 

 

Writing can change the world so get your life to amount to something.

That way you are always sure that people will not ever think of nothing.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.

 

 

Inhale your hopes and dreams and exhale negative influences.

Don’t be put off when you do not receive anything.

Nothing whatsoever.

Nothing.

 

 

Be inspired today.

Amount to something.

Do not do nothing whatsoever.

Nothing is impossible.

 

 

 

I Thought that Life would be a Dream

 

I thought that life would be a dream,

With everything bearing a bright sheen,

And humans and animals smiling alike,

Without bad emotions like jealousy and spite.

 

I thought that life would be a ring,

Going round in circles, never stopping,

That you could not escape out of the earth,

Where there was no place for a ship to berth.

 

I thought that life would be a line,

Where everything was normal and just fine,

That when you died that line stopped,

When the support machine line no longer hopped.

 

I thought that life would be a hole,

Clothed in darkness, stuck like a mole,

Suddenly smashing into the bottom, hitting a rock,

Drowning in fire, your breath abruptly stopped.

 

I thought that life would be a slave,

Honoring its owners, perfectly behaved,

Costing no money except for feeding,

Trying to cheat death - and succeeding.

 

I thought that life would be a dream,

Hope surfacing like a strong light beam,

Someone far away, calling, calling

Then I discovered my head, hitting the ceiling.

 

I turned around finding it did not hurt me,

I floated straight up, and saw all seven seas,

Then I realized I'd wasted my time with thoughts,

As now, finally, death had me caught.

 

Questions

 

If I could give you a choice,

In which of these two things would die,

Things that would never walk again or fly,

Which one would you chose?

 

The sun or the moon?

Without the sun there would be no light,

But without the moon the waves could no longer survive,

Which one would you chose?

 

Your home or your life?

You couldn't live for long without home,

But giving up life would mean you'd die,

Which one would you chose?

 

Books or Tv's?

Without books there would be no knowledge,

But without Tv's there would be less leisure,

Which one would you chose?

 

The birds or the bees?

The birds would no longer sing and disrupt the food chains,

But without bees there would be no honey or stings,

Tell me, which one would you chose?

 

Quick decisions or planning?

Without quick decisions no one would ever move on,

But without any planning, everything would be chaotic,

Tell me, which one would you chose?

 

Why is life faced with small questions?

Questions that don't matter,

Most are completely irrelevant,

But I can tell you the answer.

 

The answer to all questions lies in the most obvious place,

The place where you started with no idea of the answer,

It sticks out in your face, taunting you, laughing,

The answer to all questions lie simply in the question

 

 

 

 

  

Last updated: September 06

İRhianne 2006

These words are my own...and I intend to keep it that way