“Mors Voluntaria Dulcis :Et Amorem Carminum //Sweet Suicide : Fortheloveofpoetry by Berachah Quame.”



In a thousand incarnation of pain,

I churn the poison of soul.

I relive the matrix borne in ancestry,

Issuing its harmony through my ebbing heart.

I pluck my arteries to resound the finest quality

And blow through pipes to unsaddle my deepest anxiety.

I press each vein with careless expression

To unimpede this meaningless depression

I mutter no words to the chaos I create

From hands woven by many betrayals and hate


Casting the blade upon my breast

I burst open those fleshly tombs

That drain my being of virtue

And bury in them horrid vice.

I plunge deeper

To behold my ghost

And glare at her who chains my feet

With the raving evil of night


Against her i stand aloof

Shredding my soul in joy

And while life bemoans,

I applaud my daring foolery,

As she swings the noose upon my sacred youth,

And cries foul to the coming years.


I die, or yet I live

In dying, I find my soul living

And in living, I feel this pain thriving

I lay dying and yet living

The pain bruised still doth breathe

The anguish ceased still doth brew.


I live, or yet I die

For in dying, I only live

And in living, I still must die


I scream, I yell

Earth seldom can hear

I wake in death

My soul doth live


And so I laugh –

louder than my lungs can bear

And I so cry-

in mute tones, no grave can hear

And so I moan –

in this senseless ecstasy

And so life ripples-

in this gruesome fantasy.


The paranoia is birthed

In cisterns filled with void

The paradox plunged

In this sweet ecstasy of a living dead.


Play on this misery

the dying must hear

Lash with screams

the born must endear

To transcend this tune to those yet born

Of the unending charade of life’s painful rant.


It’s a short suspending song

With a long unending throng

Of memory bathed in pain.

It’s a bloody sweetened melody

With a bloody sour taste of perfidy

Of a dream wrecked with disdain.

And so along I play and play

And you my ghost must dance and lay

In the abyss of a man long gone

Drenched in echoes of a song long sung.