Born to Die | Die to be Born

If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way.

Napoleon Hill

Oh Tell Me!

Bold baby born into a world so black
It lacks the ability to be bright.
Where in every bad trade there is a mad jack
Ready to steal your smile in the night,
So that he can hide it in his room-
Where everyday he plots your doom.

How in your ignorance you have the sense
To be happy and not like an old man tense
Because he will soon step into his grave
And enter back into mother natures womb.
Whilst you many a year have to be brave
To save the hearts of ladies from the tomb.

I’ll Tell You!

Old man who’s weak hands hold me in his frail arms
Who’s back lacks the strength to stand tall and straight
And who smells of the stink that shall always bait
The lovely lady death to come your way.
As she’s been attracted to all your charms
So she’ll make you for your long life pay.

That i’m happy because long have i been dead
In our mothers womb that’s also a tomb
And i’d forgotten how much life has to give.
Until now when i was born again
Into a world in which there’s much to smile for.

Lazarus Shatipamba

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Help me keep the blog running

Michael Mubitta

Procrastination is like a credit card: its a lot of fun until you get the bill.

Christopher Parker

Oh! Goodbye to you my good old friend.

You who’s life did sadly come to an end
In the most gruesome of ways
At the cruel hands of boys
Never want you to see better days.

You who many a good times i did with spend
Basking in the presence of your light
For you always followed the way that was right
Even during times when it was not bright.

Oh! Goodbye to you my good old friend.

For now only, for surely in the end
You and i shall meet again in that place
Which high up in the sky has its face
Looking down on people of many a race.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

This poem is dedicated to all of us that have lost someone close to our hearts.

It goes out to all those that have made our hearts their homes but have simply left to go gallivanting across the large, unknown world of death in search of a longer lasting breath.

Mostly, it goes out to my good friend Michael Mubitta who recently lost his life before he could even make a plan to get himself a wife.

My life is a little less dimmer without the light of your shining personality.

Know that you will always be remembered by me, my pen as well as the pages of poems that will live through the ages.

Help me keep the blog running

Still Alive

The power of imagination makes us infinite.

John Muir
Your life is ebbing away
But do not worry
Or feel sorry for the glory
That tells a story of lost history.

Your life is leaving you
But do not leave yourself exposed
To the belief that you are relieved
Of living.

You! That have been living
For as long as I can remember

When Decembers have come and gone
And the embers, of the fires in our chambers
Have become members of the guild
That assassinates our will to live.

Slowly but surely
Your life is ebbing away
Because transience has been clawing his way
Into the paws of canines
That bark to spark our lives alight.

You are dying.
But do not worry.
For I am dying too.

From the moment we vacated our mother's wombs
We have been on a path to our tombs
And whilst our inevitable doom
Looms before us like Table Mountain
We may find ourselves dining on memories
Of tomorrows glory.

You are Dying
But do not worry.

You're Still Alive!

Here’s the spoken version of the poem :

By Lazarus Shatipamba

© 2020 The Poets Peace