Death Diary - Endymion

Reply Tue 11 Oct, 2005 08:18 am
Here is the complete poem.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The rising moon has hid the stars;
Her level rays, like golden bars,
Lie on the landscape green,
With shadows brown between.

And silver white the river gleams,
As if Diana, in her dreams,
Had dropt her silver bow
Upon the meadows low.

On such a tranquil night as this,
She woke Endymion with a kiss,
When, sleeping in the grove,
He dreamed not of her love.

Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought;
Nor voice, nor sound betrays
Its deep, impassioned gaze.

It comes,--the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,--
In silence and alone
To seek the elected one.

It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep
Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep,
And kisses the closed eyes
Of him, who slumbering lies.

O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!
O drooping souls, whose destinies
Are fraught with fear and pain,
Ye shall be loved again!

No one is so accursed by fate,
No one so utterly desolate,
But some heart, though unknown,
Responds unto his own.

Responds,--as if with unseen wings,
An angel touched its quivering strings;
And whispers, in its song,
"'Where hast thou stayed so long?"
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Reply Thu 13 Oct, 2005 06:11 pm
Following the tragic death of an A2K regular who was posting here long before I arrived, I don't feel it appropriate for me to continue my death-diary at present.

I'll keep writing though -

best, Endy
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Reply Fri 28 Oct, 2005 10:03 am
eyo sdfu i got ish dat hav u bleed-n-dripz close ya mouth in a book so i can read ya lips im aggressively spittin verbal tactics to murder this herbal wack kid n sniches get stiches treat em like bitches keep on reminiscing get wet up like dishes
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Reply Wed 2 Nov, 2005 01:03 pm
Death Defied

You aint gona ride me no more
You can come here any time
Take my last breath
I seen you stealing life on the sly
I watched you bring down burning hell fire
But you aint gona wear me like a slave
Turning honest grief into rage
Take your vengeful gun out of my face
Recoil the rope
And leave the dagger in its rightful place
Death defied, left where the work is steady
I'll call you out
When I'm good and ready

Endymion 2005
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Reply Tue 3 Jan, 2006 10:41 pm
My love is dead
The tears have bled away
My hope is fled
Leaving me cold and grey
My strength is drowned
Beneath the old clay
My soul is turned
To feathers white
And flown away
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Reply Tue 3 Jan, 2006 11:18 pm
Under My Breath

Where shall I put the pain of death?
Speak of it from under my breath
Twist the truth from inside my fear
Trick myself into going near
the moment
Where can I leave the grief behind me?
Hide from the ghosts of entombed memory
As death is my witness, I will be free
Or death will be me

Endymion 2005
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Reply Sun 8 Jan, 2006 01:13 am
Grief for a Friend

I try to remember how she looked after she was dead
Her skin fallen slack becoming cool under my fingers
Her eyes open and blind to me now
Her lips parted in a last sigh
I try to remember how her hand felt in mine
When there was still a pulse
When I was in her memory, her mind
When I existed for her

I try to remember her spirit
To recall her spoken dreams
To play her records on the old turntable
To read her letters
I try to remember her voice
Her extraordinary laugh
Her smell
Her taste

I try to remember her words
The strength that she aroused
The wisdom in her thinking
The truths she spoke aloud
I reflect upon her bravery
And her smile at the end
And how she once knew of me
And how much I miss my friend

Endymion 2006
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Reply Tue 10 Jan, 2006 07:14 pm
Grief's Witness 1

Old man, I'm so sorry
your son is dead
And we have no blanket
to cover his head
Your wife has collapsed
and your daughters are screaming
And although we both wish it
we may not be dreaming
This is your son
Look at his face
What would you do
to lie there in his place?
I saw you reach out
to check his fall
Old man, I'm so sorry
to be here at all

Endymion 2006
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Reply Fri 20 Jan, 2006 03:17 am
Rest Assured

When the one hundredth British casualty,
Dies from wounds received in combat,
Dies spinning down
In the madding crowd,
Dies shattering into splinters
Of oblivious stardust,
Or dies spilling his heart silently alone…
Rest assured, Britain will pass with him
Into mourning.

Protesters say they'll hit the streets,
Knocking the fine line back.
Dressed for the occasion of his death,
In the human mourning of black.
Sick of the criminal use of war,
As a tool, in the hands of fools,
Adults will leave their place of work,
Children will walk out of schools.

Traffic will disappear from the streets
Television signals will fade
Government workers will leave their nests
And join the swelling parade.
Beacons will light across country
Church bells will toll in the town
Business will close its doors early
For the one hundredth soldier is down

When the ninety-ninth British soldier is dead,
And should you fall next in line,
Remember those you lived to protect
With the evolving passage of time.
You are the one hundredth sacrifice
Word will go out and they'll say,
We're here to grieve, on Britain's streets,
For the life of a son killed today.

Endymion 2006
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Reply Mon 23 Jan, 2006 03:54 am
When Death Comes

When the crushed moment has faded
The shattered knife been thrown
When pain is borne and borne away
On the rose dawn of another day

When the sun and sky are rejoiced in
And the harvest ripe again
When the stars have seen an ending
And a new beginning

When our hearts are free to find their peace
When the fear has become Joy
When I can stand up as a man again
And laugh just like a boy

Endymion 2006
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Reply Mon 30 Jan, 2006 10:02 am
Death Of A Warrior

He was crushed
By the burden of dying
Spine pulled
To the centre of the earth
He lay immobile
Undermined and burned
By the flames
Of his crazy youth
He vomited laughter
And let the sun
Dry salt lines
From his staring eyes
And waited
For the ceasing
Of his heart

Night fell
As black metal burned
In the alien pitch
He listened
To baying desert dogs
And watched
The forbidden lights
That hung
On his every breath
Hung tilted
Ready to fall with
The speed
Of universal light
Into his blue
Star gazing eyes

Endymion 2006
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Reply Mon 30 Jan, 2006 08:47 pm
Just heard that a soldier from the 7th Armoured Brigade, serving with the 1st Battalion The Highlanders has been shot dead in Iraq.

He is the 99th.

Heart felt condolences to his family.

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Reply Tue 31 Jan, 2006 10:06 am
Pink Floyd

Wish You Were Here

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

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Reply Thu 2 Feb, 2006 09:16 am
The 100th

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Reply Thu 2 Feb, 2006 06:14 pm
Isn't he just a man?

Why would a man see tragedy in beauty?
In the magnificence of an autumn tree
Or in summer skies at dusk;
When the lands falls still,
Under an apricot sunset.

Why would a man feel pain in his gut?
At the sight of snow falling gently
Down through a dark pine forest;
Onto Celtic bracken,
Where once his friend trod.

Why would a man not understand?
The humanness in man, his
Enemy, who has his own pal.
When another cries out "Injustice."
Isn't he just a man?

Endymion 2006
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Reply Tue 7 Feb, 2006 09:42 am
I'm posting on this thread today/tonight because I don't want to scare anyone off my 'People' thread. And man, I am going to be doing some serious drinking over the next several hours so I expect the work to deteriorate (even die a death) as time goes on.
Any drinkers out there? If so, Cheers.

Okay, I certainly will apologise in advance for what comes next.
(I need a drink. I'm going to drink).
It's a vicious circle - I drink I write - what I write makes me drink - and back around again. I don't know who you are, reading this. So I don't really know who I'm talking to, but you must like poetry a lot to be here. Maybe, like me, you're hurting, or have something you just need to say.
Whatever, thanks for being an unknown witness.

Here's the first of them, written with the first drink.


I have shut myself away
Sickened by my mutilation
To show my crippled self
To those that wish to
Shake the hand I do not have
There are braver folk than I
Who show their face
With pride
Why not me?
Will I cower in a corner
For eternity?
My poetry
Is all I have to give
And all I am
Without it I am nothing
Dis - abled
A residue of what I was
Or could have been
Yet I am alive
Wanting to survive
A monster now

Endymion 2006
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Reply Tue 7 Feb, 2006 10:04 am
One More Drink

Drink and be merry lads
Drink a toast to war
Our country is brave
Our country will fight
As our boys have done before
But let's not sing
Of Tipperary
And let's not sing of home
Let's drink a toast
To those we miss most
And the land we call our own

Drink yourself to numbness, lads
Drink your way to war
Our country is brave
Our country will fight
As our boys have done before
But let's not talk of brave past, lads
Or the fear that lies beneath
Let's drink a toast
To those we miss most
And suffocate the grief

Drink yourself to death, lad
Drink yourself insane
Drink away the memory
Drink away the pain
Drink yourself to hell, lad
Drink yourself away
Raise your glass
To the bloody past
And let's call it a day

Endymion 2006
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Reply Tue 7 Feb, 2006 12:37 pm
I Spoke My heart

How do I get through the night
While rolling black clouds
Descend on me
Bringing lightning flashes
Of memory

What can I tell myself
That I haven't tried already
I know that I am one of many
But here, alone tonight
I am only one

Why am I still weak
And confused enough
To seek
In a drink

I have spoken my heart
To a dying man
But have no words
Of comfort for myself

And already night is falling
Whiskey calling me
Because reality
Is far
Too much

But can I drink enough
To erase the shame?

Endymion 2006
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Reply Tue 7 Feb, 2006 08:25 pm

Dear Anne

I read your final entry
Sitting here,
To a sombre piano

You know, you wrote like a survivor
Europe fallen
Buried under unseen guilt
The end of old empires

And all the time
There you were
A prisoner in hiding
Watching the world go crazy
From behind a small hole
In a pulled curtain

Longing for
Your adulthood
That never came
The freedom to love
And to be

Dear Anne

I think of you
There waiting
For the allies, hoping
With peace so very close
To be rescued
By a handsome Yank

Listening in the night
For the sound of lorries
Pulling up outside
You wrote,
"I get cross, then sad"
"…turning my heart
inside out."
Your last words
Are lonely

Dear Anne

You couldn't write it down
But we know
That at some time
Around ten fifteen in the morning
On August the fourth, 1944
They came for you

Did you hear car doors slam
As you poured weak tea
For your mother?
Did the pot slide and fall
From your

Strangers in the Annexe
Men, ugly with contempt
An SS Sergeant
And a handful of Dutch
Security Police

Were you very afraid?
Did you understand?
That you were being taken
From the world?

Records say
That two months later
You were transported
Out of Auschwitz
Concentration Camp

They stole you
From your life
Then they stole you
From your mother

Did you cry for her?
In the darkness
Of the rattling cattle truck
As distance severed
Her from you?

Did you beg God
To save you?
Did you scream and curse?
Or were you
Already too traumatised
And too lost ?

You were taken
To Bergen-Belsen
Hell created by man
Where you survived somehow
Until the spring

Until just before
The British
Liberated hell
On April 12th 1945
Eight months after
You were taken

Dear Anne

I'm so sorry
We arrived too late
To save you

Endymion 2006
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Reply Tue 7 Feb, 2006 09:28 pm
I don't believe that God exists
But if I did, I'd ask him

I don't believe that God exists
But if I did, I'd ask him
To save the world
From religion
To make man's decisions
Man's decisions
To end superstition
By definition
Of tradition
And allow mankind
The pride
Of believing
In itself

I don't believe that God exists
But if I did, I'd ask him
To wipe the slate
To abdicate
To rid the world
Of religious hate

I don't believe that God exists
But if I did, I'd ask him
To please explain
How he can refrain
From reaching out
A guiding hand

I don't believe that God exists
But if I did, I'd ask him
To seek forgiveness
From mankind
For all the agony of time
Beginning with a son he crucified

Endymion 2006


If you've just read this and are offended, because your religion is very dear to you - I'm sorry. It's nothing personal - It's just how I feel. And if 'God' does exist, I'm sure he'd agree that it's between him and me. Peace, Endy
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