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Dying
- Thread starter mammutly
- Start date
If you're scared of death, this Philip Larkin poem will cheer you up
Aubade
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
- The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anasthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can't escape,
Yet can't accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
Philip Larkin
Aubade
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
- The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anasthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can't escape,
Yet can't accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
Philip Larkin
rushts
Well-Known Member
i cant help but think we are like a battery, strong and powerful for many years but then slowing down and weakening towards the end, unfortunately old batteries die and then its over, discarded to the bin. Fuck i hope i'm wrong.
scowy68
Well-Known Member
Not thinking about what comes later.My time is now,i want to love my Children,enjoy my life,see as much of the world as possible.When my time finally comes,i want to go to sleep looking back,and thinking,i enjoyed my life.
I just think theirs nothing but blackness after death.
I just think theirs nothing but blackness after death.
A
A
Anonymous
Guest
i'ts only human ignorance that makes us believe that we, as an organism, have a devine right to something else than we have already got.
The possibility that you could just cease to exist is scary tbh, its one of them situations that really torments the mind, a bit like how did the Universe start, 'oh well gas came together resulting in the big bang', well where did the gas come from? I'd like to think theres an afterlife where there is just happiness, with all the people you truly love, the only way we'll find out is by dying, :s
I reckon that you never die, when this Computer shuts down then your motherboard carries on, your skin is just a Birthday suit and you just unzip it and fuk off when you die. Yes, we are like a computer in a way, a brand new one when we are born, then depending what you put into the computer over time then it depends what output you get from it, ie you put shit into a computer then you get shit out, you put shit into your body then you get shit out, your computer gets a virus,it slows down and you get the correct software to fix the problem, or just take it to the Computer fixer shop, if we as humans get a virus then we go to the Doctors and get a remedy,or go to the Chemist. When a computer dies,the hard drive or whatever you call it carries on, when we die our soul or harddrive/motherboard carries on, we can never die and imo, this life is possibly as bad as it gets, where a simple walk along a canal towpath or a picnic in the park is classed as heaven, when infact, we are yet to feel real paradise, so don't be afraid, we can never die.
Every now and then when i'm bed, I just think about it and it scares the hell outta me till I calm myself down. Death really isn't worth thinking about right now, we'll (probably) never know what happens after death till it does, so just live your life!
buzzer1 said:I reckon that you never die, when this Computer shuts down then your motherboard carries on, your skin is just a Birthday suit and you just unzip it and fuk off when you die. Yes, we are like a computer in a way, a brand new one when we are born, then depending what you put into the computer over time then it depends what output you get from it, ie you put shit into a computer then you get shit out, you put shit into your body then you get shit out, your computer gets a virus,it slows down and you get the correct software to fix the problem, or just take it to the Computer fixer shop, if we as humans get a virus then we go to the Doctors and get a remedy,or go to the Chemist. When a computer dies,the hard drive or whatever you call it carries on, when we die our soul or harddrive/motherboard carries on, we can never die and imo, this life is possibly as bad as it gets, where a simple walk along a canal towpath or a picnic in the park is classed as heaven, when infact, we are yet to feel real paradise, so don't be afraid, we can never die.
scary!
Prestwich_Blue
Well-Known Member
Very picturesquely put and I largely agree with it. I'm not religious but do believe that your body may die but somehow your "soul" or consciousness re-appears in someone else.buzzer1 said:I reckon that you never die, when this Computer shuts down then your motherboard carries on, your skin is just a Birthday suit and you just unzip it and fuk off when you die. Yes, we are like a computer in a way, a brand new one when we are born, then depending what you put into the computer over time then it depends what output you get from it, ie you put shit into a computer then you get shit out, you put shit into your body then you get shit out, your computer gets a virus,it slows down and you get the correct software to fix the problem, or just take it to the Computer fixer shop, if we as humans get a virus then we go to the Doctors and get a remedy,or go to the Chemist. When a computer dies,the hard drive or whatever you call it carries on, when we die our soul or harddrive/motherboard carries on, we can never die and imo, this life is possibly as bad as it gets, where a simple walk along a canal towpath or a picnic in the park is classed as heaven, when infact, we are yet to feel real paradise, so don't be afraid, we can never die.