I buried my thoughts deep inside me and they fell into oblivion as I went on with my life. But those thoughts came crawling back to me as I saw him happy with another woman. She was beautiful and I wasn’t.
When I go to the beach I love to bury my body in the sand. It feels cool then I rush to the sea to wash it all off only to repeat the process. The mind boggles.
My best mate Keith died in 2001. It was agony to bury him. His funeral was so surreal. Was I dreaming? It was real. I fought the tears until they overwhelmed me. I still miss Keith, his jokes, joys, moods and long chats. It was a real privilege to know him. He is gone but I will never forget him.
I killed you today
takiing the pain away forever
leaving the love you have to give
open your heart let it fly free
bury the pain you have for the other
why must you keep it coming back to me?
the words are meaningless in your soul
drifting on the sands of where we were
she hesitates- one crucial second gone. her dagger’s diverted, whereas moments ago it would have buried itself deep into his chest. she shakes her head. it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter anymore, nothing matters- he’d killed the only one she’d ever loved and now it was an eye for an eye, and her world had been swallowed in ice and she felt nothing, nothing anymore except a cold burning need to see him fall.
no, she decided as she dodged his blows and retreated. death was too good for him.
Long time has passed since we have buried
You deep beneath the bounds of mortal place
Preserving, as we think, your body’s worth
While spirit pure drifts heavenward to space;
Yet no acceptance have I yet to gain
Of nature’s natural course and fate-wrought toll;
‘Twere better nature should by right abstain
From robbing blind this world of sweet console
You once espoused, in actions, words, and thoughts,
Motherlike, standing erect but always
Willing to bow to tend and care, past oughts,
Shoulds, lessons of propriety, the ways
We’re taught to think ourselves supposed to be,
As we bound ourselves in chained society.
memories, they come and haunt you. striding slowly, like the undead, they can not be killed again. dig a little deeper, bury them again. wait a little longer to run away again.
Bury your thoughts, switch off, stop random thinking. The mind has a tendency to exaggerate situations, to blow things into giant hay stacks. Defuse, refuse to be swept along by the panic. Have a few minutes of silence then you can observe the chaos and not be stung and if you go more deeply into the silence, you will begin to calm down but life is not a passive affair. Allow time to chill. Only a suggestion but worth the gentle effort although not all thoughts can be completely buried but you can switch off. Whatever?
Bury is a term used mainly in a negative light. I see it as some way of leaving behind an old trouble between you and someone close to you, such as “Let’s bury the hatchet.” To defeat it or to conceal. It’s a secretive word. Bury.
One thing that truly saddens me is the burden of knowing that one day I will have to bury loved ones. Not just grandparents, but mother and father, aunt’s and uncles…etc. I do not want to know the pain of such events. What’s more unsettling is the thought of who is going to bury me, will I be loved by them.
Who said bury him you clot he is not dead yet but barely breathing sir I know put a line in him he’s got a pulse move over if I was not here you would have closed the coffin lid we all thought he had died he stopped breathing and his lips were going grey now what does that say in your medical analysis Dr Parker yes but this case is rare quick give him oxygen did you put the line in crash team on the double a roar of medics swarm into theatre immediately Jason is hooked up he’s coming back sir we have a wavy line on his heart monitor and he just smiled now if I was not here poor Jason would be 6 feet under keep this patient monitored nil by mouth.
she was gone. i had to accept that. it was only a matter of time after the last years. Everyone knew it would happen, but they still never thought it would happen so fast, and so early. But here she is, right in front of everyone, and me, being buried into the deep dirt. I clenched onto my mouth, to hide my face filled with sorrow. i couldn’t hold the tears back. You only get one Mother. She was my one, and only one. I could never forget that.
Bury your thoughts or people will not understand you. Shovel the dirt over them so that they are hidden well. Make sure none of your real self is showing and is deep in the hole.
tears welled in my eyes as i buried my sister. the one who got me through all of my hard times, and i had no clue she was having her own. one last look at the cuts on her wrists. she promised she’d stop. and she did.
The dirt built up underneath my nails. The rush to get the job done was taxing my nerve. When would she get home? Would she know what I had done? I heard the wheels squish into the driveway. The gate swung open and she walked up as I stood and turned. “Hi Honey.”
Bury your Self
under the earth’s core
in its fiery soul, buy your Self
burn, burn, burn
your human costume is ill-fitting
so throw it out and be naked
on your grave
Let the Gypsy take your pain, son. Let her pull it from your heart and flick it to the ground, “Where it belongs, ” she says. Make sure you leave it there where it should be. Let the Gypsy work her magic and then bury it. Bury all the pain in heavy, wet soil and let it all seep into the center of the earth. Bury it. Please, son. Bury him, at last.
wow that is . a really deep word. like, i could bury a person? maybe i could be a murdurer? what?! when would anyone use this word? I guess they would use it for when you are trying to explain what your dog is doing when he takes a piss outside and buries his bone in the ground? why am i asking so many questions? let’s bury this word….
Let the Gypsy take you pain, son. Let her pull it from your heart and flick it to the ground, “Where it belongs, ” she says. Make sure you leave it there where it should be. Let the Gypsy work her magic and then bury it. Bury all the pain in heavy, wet soil and let it all seep into the center of the earth. Bury it. Please, son. Bury him, at last.
The world keeps moving,
like a Charlie Brown song on repeat,
reiterating its existential qualities.
And we bury our past,
forget what we learned from the mistakes
and the horrors of everyday life,
depressive episodes
of boys and knives.
And it keeps us moving through the seasons,
until we can no longer see them,
and what we see is a blurry memory
of a moment,
when we first realized what we wanted
was there all along.
And what we thought we wanted
was something not gone.
And what we thought we needed
was only but a red herring
in a story shrouded in mystery.
And life keeps moving
whether we think about it
or just let it be.
The kids rushed to bury the body but with stumbling feet and trembling fingers they could only do so much. How did this happen? Why were they there on that still, haunting night burying the body of one of their own?
Dig, deep, underneath what could be. What is? What do you think it is underneath it all? Where is the source? Find it. Under what could have been. Under what should have happened. We buried our feelings and love. I regret it. I do. I’m sorry, I left. But I was such a fool. Blind and drugged.
I wish I could bury myself, cover my body in dirt and return myself to the earth. Bequeath my flesh the worms, to the soil, to the grass, to the trees. Make some difference to the world, a much bigger one than I ever made with my life. I wish I could bury myself. I wish I could set my soul free.
I feel as if I’m in a coffin some days. Trapped inside, below the surface. Like no one could hear me scream out that I need to be let free. Why do people bury you when they lose hope? I could be someone. They just needed to wait longer.
The words on the note warped, blackened, and eventually fluttered away on the wind as the flame consumed the letter. “I’ve found someone else,” It said. He watched the embers blow away across the desert. He could burn the words, but he had to stow away the thoughts that they provoked. He had to focus on the mission.
bury the depths of you, in to me. there is a pulp soil that i have burned your heart in. your fucked up face is all that is left and it won’t haunt me anymore, not on the cold walk home, not in the bar, not in the wretched dreams of my sleep. you’ll fade out like the last trip hop beat i heard on the way out of the door.
He buried the body. He left his heart and soul in the hole with it. Piles of dirt broke apart as he threw dirt back into the hole, breaking into tiny pieces like his soul.
Bury is a word that doesn’t really mean that much to me. I prefer berry… Like pink berry. A natural fruit that lives in thr korean forest. Pink bury would make no sense.
Would he bury her?
Would he push her deep into the ground, far from his touch and his torturous love?
She sat there in the damp dirt, twisting handfuls of dead grass. He leaned against the thick oak tree trunk, silent. The hole was cut out and wet from the rain. He coughed and stood up, glancing back for the briefest of moments before walking away.
I bury the man in the dirt his face is smudged and beaten. I am unsure as to why the wanted me to bury the poor old guy but in the moment i didn’t care I was terrified of what would happen next.
I buried my thoughts deep inside me and they fell into oblivion as I went on with my life. But those thoughts came crawling back to me as I saw him happy with another woman. She was beautiful and I wasn’t.
I bury her in the ground. I bury my thoughts to him. I sang the song called Bury.
When I was six years old, I found a very big apple. I didn’t want anyone to know about it so I buried it under the ground.
When I go to the beach I love to bury my body in the sand. It feels cool then I rush to the sea to wash it all off only to repeat the process. The mind boggles.
My best mate Keith died in 2001. It was agony to bury him. His funeral was so surreal. Was I dreaming? It was real. I fought the tears until they overwhelmed me. I still miss Keith, his jokes, joys, moods and long chats. It was a real privilege to know him. He is gone but I will never forget him.
The dog buried the old bone, all disgusting and filthy, into the mans shoes. The man isn’t going to be pleased when he discovers it…
Bury. Beautiful bloke, underneath the sea, rustling the star fish and sea weed. He finds his goggles. “Yes”!
I killed you today
takiing the pain away forever
leaving the love you have to give
open your heart let it fly free
bury the pain you have for the other
why must you keep it coming back to me?
the words are meaningless in your soul
drifting on the sands of where we were
she hesitates- one crucial second gone. her dagger’s diverted, whereas moments ago it would have buried itself deep into his chest. she shakes her head. it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter anymore, nothing matters- he’d killed the only one she’d ever loved and now it was an eye for an eye, and her world had been swallowed in ice and she felt nothing, nothing anymore except a cold burning need to see him fall.
no, she decided as she dodged his blows and retreated. death was too good for him.
I love to watch a dog bury a bone. Rufus is wagging his tail, digging a hole then Rufus drops the bone in and quickly covers it with mud. Job done.
Long time has passed since we have buried
You deep beneath the bounds of mortal place
Preserving, as we think, your body’s worth
While spirit pure drifts heavenward to space;
Yet no acceptance have I yet to gain
Of nature’s natural course and fate-wrought toll;
‘Twere better nature should by right abstain
From robbing blind this world of sweet console
You once espoused, in actions, words, and thoughts,
Motherlike, standing erect but always
Willing to bow to tend and care, past oughts,
Shoulds, lessons of propriety, the ways
We’re taught to think ourselves supposed to be,
As we bound ourselves in chained society.
memories, they come and haunt you. striding slowly, like the undead, they can not be killed again. dig a little deeper, bury them again. wait a little longer to run away again.
I had seen the pile of earth. Cleverly cuddled into a corner of the garden. I regarded him. He knew.
Bury your thoughts, switch off, stop random thinking. The mind has a tendency to exaggerate situations, to blow things into giant hay stacks. Defuse, refuse to be swept along by the panic. Have a few minutes of silence then you can observe the chaos and not be stung and if you go more deeply into the silence, you will begin to calm down but life is not a passive affair. Allow time to chill. Only a suggestion but worth the gentle effort although not all thoughts can be completely buried but you can switch off. Whatever?
Alive. Knee deep. Treasure. A bone. Up to my eyes.
Bury is a term used mainly in a negative light. I see it as some way of leaving behind an old trouble between you and someone close to you, such as “Let’s bury the hatchet.” To defeat it or to conceal. It’s a secretive word. Bury.
One thing that truly saddens me is the burden of knowing that one day I will have to bury loved ones. Not just grandparents, but mother and father, aunt’s and uncles…etc. I do not want to know the pain of such events. What’s more unsettling is the thought of who is going to bury me, will I be loved by them.
Who said bury him you clot he is not dead yet but barely breathing sir I know put a line in him he’s got a pulse move over if I was not here you would have closed the coffin lid we all thought he had died he stopped breathing and his lips were going grey now what does that say in your medical analysis Dr Parker yes but this case is rare quick give him oxygen did you put the line in crash team on the double a roar of medics swarm into theatre immediately Jason is hooked up he’s coming back sir we have a wavy line on his heart monitor and he just smiled now if I was not here poor Jason would be 6 feet under keep this patient monitored nil by mouth.
she was gone. i had to accept that. it was only a matter of time after the last years. Everyone knew it would happen, but they still never thought it would happen so fast, and so early. But here she is, right in front of everyone, and me, being buried into the deep dirt. I clenched onto my mouth, to hide my face filled with sorrow. i couldn’t hold the tears back. You only get one Mother. She was my one, and only one. I could never forget that.
Bury your thoughts or people will not understand you. Shovel the dirt over them so that they are hidden well. Make sure none of your real self is showing and is deep in the hole.
tears welled in my eyes as i buried my sister. the one who got me through all of my hard times, and i had no clue she was having her own. one last look at the cuts on her wrists. she promised she’d stop. and she did.
The dirt built up underneath my nails. The rush to get the job done was taxing my nerve. When would she get home? Would she know what I had done? I heard the wheels squish into the driveway. The gate swung open and she walked up as I stood and turned. “Hi Honey.”
Bury your Self
under the earth’s core
in its fiery soul, buy your Self
burn, burn, burn
your human costume is ill-fitting
so throw it out and be naked
on your grave
Let the Gypsy take your pain, son. Let her pull it from your heart and flick it to the ground, “Where it belongs, ” she says. Make sure you leave it there where it should be. Let the Gypsy work her magic and then bury it. Bury all the pain in heavy, wet soil and let it all seep into the center of the earth. Bury it. Please, son. Bury him, at last.
Bury your Self, the enemy of true consciousness. Underneath your steel mantle is your true fiery core.
wow that is . a really deep word. like, i could bury a person? maybe i could be a murdurer? what?! when would anyone use this word? I guess they would use it for when you are trying to explain what your dog is doing when he takes a piss outside and buries his bone in the ground? why am i asking so many questions? let’s bury this word….
Let the Gypsy take you pain, son. Let her pull it from your heart and flick it to the ground, “Where it belongs, ” she says. Make sure you leave it there where it should be. Let the Gypsy work her magic and then bury it. Bury all the pain in heavy, wet soil and let it all seep into the center of the earth. Bury it. Please, son. Bury him, at last.
The world keeps moving,
like a Charlie Brown song on repeat,
reiterating its existential qualities.
And we bury our past,
forget what we learned from the mistakes
and the horrors of everyday life,
depressive episodes
of boys and knives.
And it keeps us moving through the seasons,
until we can no longer see them,
and what we see is a blurry memory
of a moment,
when we first realized what we wanted
was there all along.
And what we thought we wanted
was something not gone.
And what we thought we needed
was only but a red herring
in a story shrouded in mystery.
And life keeps moving
whether we think about it
or just let it be.
The kids rushed to bury the body but with stumbling feet and trembling fingers they could only do so much. How did this happen? Why were they there on that still, haunting night burying the body of one of their own?
Dig, deep, underneath what could be. What is? What do you think it is underneath it all? Where is the source? Find it. Under what could have been. Under what should have happened. We buried our feelings and love. I regret it. I do. I’m sorry, I left. But I was such a fool. Blind and drugged.
I wish I could bury myself, cover my body in dirt and return myself to the earth. Bequeath my flesh the worms, to the soil, to the grass, to the trees. Make some difference to the world, a much bigger one than I ever made with my life. I wish I could bury myself. I wish I could set my soul free.
I feel as if I’m in a coffin some days. Trapped inside, below the surface. Like no one could hear me scream out that I need to be let free. Why do people bury you when they lose hope? I could be someone. They just needed to wait longer.
The words on the note warped, blackened, and eventually fluttered away on the wind as the flame consumed the letter. “I’ve found someone else,” It said. He watched the embers blow away across the desert. He could burn the words, but he had to stow away the thoughts that they provoked. He had to focus on the mission.
bury the depths of you, in to me. there is a pulp soil that i have burned your heart in. your fucked up face is all that is left and it won’t haunt me anymore, not on the cold walk home, not in the bar, not in the wretched dreams of my sleep. you’ll fade out like the last trip hop beat i heard on the way out of the door.
He buried the body. He left his heart and soul in the hole with it. Piles of dirt broke apart as he threw dirt back into the hole, breaking into tiny pieces like his soul.
Bury is a word that doesn’t really mean that much to me. I prefer berry… Like pink berry. A natural fruit that lives in thr korean forest. Pink bury would make no sense.
Yourself, your mom, bone,cemetery, morgue,your face,
Would he bury her?
Would he push her deep into the ground, far from his touch and his torturous love?
She sat there in the damp dirt, twisting handfuls of dead grass. He leaned against the thick oak tree trunk, silent. The hole was cut out and wet from the rain. He coughed and stood up, glancing back for the briefest of moments before walking away.
To bury is to forget
To forget is to grow
To grow is to see
To see is to live
I bury the man in the dirt his face is smudged and beaten. I am unsure as to why the wanted me to bury the poor old guy but in the moment i didn’t care I was terrified of what would happen next.