Suicide

A poet afflicted, crippled in fact,
with a depression that causes
any being to pull a Sylvia Plath
except most ovens are fueled
with electricity nowadays,
of course cutting a lamp cord,
splitting the plastic casing and
fraying up the copper and
placing the male end into the
female outlet, this variant on
the fireworks display courses
through the shell and into the ghost
causing total annihilation to the being
because Nietzsche and Sartre were
correct in their assertions, as was
Camus on the ultimate moral question,
is it morally wrong to commit suicide?

If not, then what is stopping
the perpetually depressed?

A god of infinite love
punishes with infinite hate,
which doesn't inspire a lot
of stopping power because
the pain felt may not equate
to the pain felt later but pain
is pain to the chronically pained,
so what does it matter?

In the infinite scheme
of things, what does it
matter when a life is
taken when people
adjust regardless?

Who cares anyway,
grave markers erode
and anthropologists turn
them into scientific memorials.

Progress, mindless and undirected,
continues as it will, as it should.

Reviews

[Crowley]

I was so depressed from the money that I was making from selling custom gravestones marketed to continually depressed people. After making my fortune, and becoming continually depressed myself, I planned my own suicide, not really giving a thought as to whether it was moral or not, god and I were teammates on the same hockey team in my twenties, so I had some pull. The last part of my plan was to buy myself my own custom gravestone...make it the best that has ever been sold to a continually depressed person....then I saw what I had been selling them for. Christ...I bought a jet instead and took some strippers to a remote island...it helped. LOL....loved this one, Awesome.

[joshua deathdealer]

Wow I love the graphic beginning to this read. Thought provoking and powerful. Excellent work..xx

[NightShade]

The somber tones of this piece lead me to disregard the moral questions of the subject matter. I've always considered the ethical side and well, most are horrified at my conclusions. For instance, I once upset some lovely young ladies by applauding Sylvia Plath's decision and lamenting the fact that it wasn't done in a television studio on something like the Food Network...

I tend to feel a bit out of sorts for the poor folks who find the results of such actions and believe that one should approach this with a sense of pageantry. Personally, if I were to undertake the endeavor, I would bring a lot of odd props into an elevator in a high rise, push the "up" button and commence auto-erotic asphyxiation but make sure my member was covered with a fish that I'd slathered in mayonnaise... Thus ensuring a sort of immortality in the memories of those who have the thrill of finding my remains and the sap who has to remove the mess.

OK, I'm joking. Sort of...

One thing is sure: You always inspire a lot of thought in your readers.

[...]

. my last post is on the same subject though i looked at it differently ... (what a strange coincidence) ... unlike mine, this post is brilliantly expressive ... i think that those who last beyond the suicidal impulse know that there is an unpredictable future ahead ... and maybe ... just maybe ... because of sheer probability ... there is a likelihood of that pain dissolving and giving way to some happiness ...

[Ed Hart]

thoughts on suicide
cuz life's a tough sur-ride
are more than just implied
from thorns and scorns decried
don't matter to which side
of the argument you slide
once successfully tried
is the day on which you died