Let's write a suicide poem

[Pinball]

The alarm clock shrills its miserable wake-up call,
Another pointless, cold day of slavery begins.
Grinding my soul down like a tackled rugby ball,
My assets taxed and stripped for the grim reaper's grins.

[splattermac]

Well done in dying on your arse as a poet.

I'll toast you with some Moet

It's hardly Edgar Allan Poe,

more like Adrian Mole

[Dr David V]

... you poor deluded soul.

[Flook]

Grinding my soul down like a tackled rugby ball...

You're all being a bit harsh. Just say for instance, that the suicide in question was being contemplated on the grounds of a chronic inability to write a simile without people saying 'like a what...?', in a screwed up face kind of way, then the poem would be an absolute peach

[Suttonpubcrawl]

I went to the pub
With a man named Greg
He got depressed
And now Greg is dead.

Thank you, thank you. It was nothing.

[hands cold, liver warm]

I killed Pinball and the police are after me
I killed Pinball and now I have to flee
It felt so good
When I saw his blood
so I made ashtrays out of his knees

[Pinball]

Hands cold didn't commit suicide
But I still wish he had died
Found dead in bed
With a pole through his head.

[Suttonpubcrawl]

Hands cold didn't commit suicide
But I still wish he had died
Found dead in bed
With a pole through his head.

Suicide poems such as these
Have an effect on me
I want to kill some geese
Or overdose on ecstasy
If that's possible?
Better ask Sadie Frost
Her childrens' lives are not yet lost.

[gazzyk1ns]

I shot myself in the head today,
I bought the gun off that site eBay.
First time I pulled the trigger it didn't work
I must have looked like a complete berk.
But then I pulled it once again,
And a bullet rushed into my brain.

[Suttonpubcrawl]

Nice one gazzyk1ns.

Here's another one I wrote in one of my dark hours:

While walking down the street or boulevard,
I came across a man who was hard.
"Don't take my money!" I cried.
He lied.
He said he would kill if I did not comply.
I wanted to run and hide,
But instead handed over the money.
Later that night I died,
at my own hand.
His lie?
He would not kill in case he'd get put on remand.

[Cambrian Times]

A much deeper cut
Scarlet drips down marble skin
River takes me off

[hands cold, liver warm]

this is one of those non rhyming rubbish poems entitled "who am I"


who am I
I took heroin to ease my stomach upsets
I married courtney love to ease my genital urges
I sung songs
I told my tales
yet the pain grows stronger
as modern toilet paper lasts longer

who I am
will nobody listen to me
they might listen to my big gun
as I put it in my mouth
and
pull
the
trigger

am I who
bang

[Beagle 2]

I hung myself in Scotland, and my head was turning puce,
A meeting with the reaper, I hoped it would induce,
But sadly my attempt was doomed, I have a good excuse,
Hoots man, there's a noose loose aboot this hoose

[Purple Tentacle]

Nemi is my favourite cartoon
Her capacious fanny and face like the moon,
Her outlook on life is so witty and dry
She beats the conformists with suit and tie
By hanging round bars, complaining at pace
Then going home with goths to sit on their face
Oh Nemi, to honour you, I'm going to go
And open my wrists, while watching The Crow.

Again.

[Almost Yearly]

Suicide's not painless
Suicide is brainless
Not clever
When people kill themselves
God makes them put up shelves
Forever

[Pinball]

I hung myself in Scotland, and my head was turning puce,
A meeting with the reaper, I hoped it would induce,
But sadly my attempt was doomed, I have a good excuse,
Hoots man, there's a noose loose aboot this hoose

:-)

I'm bored with this world
With its pleasure overload
Desensitizing happiness
Making pleasure implode

Nothing makes me happy now
Not even the extremes
So I'll take these sleeping pills
And hopefully be happy in my dreams.

[@ssmaster]

I die, you die

[Jemble Fred]

If I could reach
Deep into my heart, or soul
And scoop the blackness that resides within
Drag out the tendrils of despair and
Thick pitch tar of hopelessness and fear
If I could sink my fingers deep beneath my skin
And cleanse my inner being of this slime
Of doubt, and bitter, bruised regret
I'd make sure to wear marigolds
When I did it.

[slim]

Forget about the wherefore and why,
It's simple you cunt; I wanted to die.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

I've always liked this bridge
It arks across the ridge
When I climb up
It's all lit up
And I'm tied to a fridge.

[Purple Tentacle]

Nobody loves me
Everybody hates me
I think I'll go and eat worms.

[slim]

I think I'll go and eat worms.

Surely the worms will eat you? (Not according to Stephen Fry, but anyway...)

[PeachSmints]

This is a Haiku, or at least it was meant to be. 5-7-5 format...did I do it right?

toaster by the bath

on a bleak winter morning

forsaken am I

[Almost Yearly]

Nobody loves me
Everybody hates me
I think I'll go and eat worms.

Aww, my old mum's favourite :'-|

[hands cold, liver warm]

Suicide's not painless
Suicide is brainless
Not clever
When people kill themselves
God makes them put up shelves
Forever

Suicide isn't all that bad
Almost, my friend, you've been had

and now for my greatest achievement: I was killed by a boeing

My wife had left me and taken my hope
So I decied that I could no longer cope

I wandered down to the garden shed
Each step filled with fear and dread

And after pulling the air pump from a drawer
Proceeded to push it down my urethra

As my foot went up and down
A happy face replaced the previous frown

My scrotum and bladder soon began to inflate
Allowing the world of clouds to become my fate

My body lifted high above the ground
And the town soon looked like an ant mound

I flew and floated with little toil
My penis acting like an aerofoil

And just as I no longer felt the need for psychiatric meds
A passing boeing's engine ripped me to shreds

[Suttonpubcrawl]

I didn't really want to die
I just wanted to see what would happen if I
Dropped my laptop off a balcony
But something strange took hold of me.
I got a message as it started to fall,
I flung myself over the balcony wall.
I started to type a witty reply,
A reply that now has caused me to die.
The coroner said it was suicide
I should have known I would not glide.
Indeed I knew but I could not resist
A reply in mid air through my network that's wireless.

[weekender]

(To be sung to the Theme from M*A*S*H, obviously)

Through early morning fog I see
A vision of the things to be
The suicide attempts by me
I realise I shouldn't be

Yes, suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please...

Well, I for one must disagree
'Cos I just tried to die, you see
I cut my wrists up completely
And laughed as all the blood ran free

Erm, suicide is painful
It really isn't gainful
It really fucking hurts you, if you please...

Next time I'll try it with a gun
I think that that would be more fun
Perhaps I'll get to number one
With a tie-in song with Delta Goodrum

That suicide is helpful
I might just take a handful
Of paracetamol and as-pi-rin...

I try to make myself be dead
I tie a rope around my head
I say goodbye to cousin Fred
And throw myself off Beachy Head...

Yes, suicide is funny
Just like a little bunny
That's been smashed in with a great big metal bar...

... and you can do the same thing, if you choose.

[Beagle 2]

That's great Sutton!

The first cut, that was the deepest
The others were deep as well
Not quite as deep as Nietzsche or Plato
They still bloody hurt like hell
The pills that I popped numbered many
I washed them all down with some weedol
I concocted a poisonous cocktail
And it entered my vains through a needle
The tap flowed away like a river
My face was stuck to the bath bottom
Soon I would meet Mr. Phoenix
And see if his acting's still rotten
And tell him how Joaquin is older
And he's big in the movies as well
He was quite good in buffalo soldiers
But in Signs he was second to Mel
But I won't keel over all drugged up
On the pavement outside Johnny's gaff
This is one thing I don't want to fuck up
I'm a lemming so you do the math

[butnut]

I knew a girl called Sylvie Plath,
And she were right good for a laugh
'Till she filled her kitchen up with gas

[falafel]

It did seem boring,
Unadventurous.
I didn't enjoy it much.

But
The worst thing about it
Was
That it didn't
Fucking work.

Maybe next time
I'll overdose
On smarties and
Orange Skittles,

And you'll remember me
In technicolor. <sic>