someone locked me in a box, and though its more than three feet down, i feel dead already. there are more moments of darkness in the imagination of a buried man than every one beneath the earth.
Ryan LeGault
I feel sad that our loved ones pass over. It’s only natural. You never stop missing and loving them. I know we have all the memories. We can always review and revisit what was so enchanting and exciting. We can celebrate their lives. I will always remember my friends and relatives. Death is not the end.
Jeanette Ju-Pierre
Burying was the hardest part. She had lived with him for the majority of her life. Watching his body being lowered into the ground was painful. Part of her was being buried with him. The part that laughed at his stupid jokes. The part that found joy in little things. The part that loved his crooked smile. The part that made life worth living.
Allie
I buried it all in a ditch. It’s in the farthest, darkest nook in my heart and no one else will ever want to go there. And they will never find it.
It was a short ceremony. He stared at them, looking over the freshly turned grave. They would miss him, the boy knew. The one who died. Who left them behind when they needed him most. But there was nothing to be done. It was over. He was in the ground and buried. And so the boy passed into the next world.
little nick watched his father in the backyard. He wasn’t allowed to follow. He watched from behind the curtain as his father shoveled spadeful after spadeful of dirt from the where the old garden used to be. It was gone now, the old garden, just like his mother. In it’s place a spaniel would lie buried a few feet beneath the surface. It was his mothers dog, her constant companion until she died 7 months ago.
Helen tried desperately to bury her thoughts, to save herself from drowning in an ocean of anxiety, but she was in too deep and her keepers were calling in favours.
Enterrado permanecí por años
La tierra aún permanece, ensuciándo mi ropa
Contaminándola, envenenándola
Puedo respirar el viento sobre mi rostro y siento la libertad
Ojalá pudiese haber despertado antes y haber enmendado los errores del pasado
Pero el pasado permanece atrás y no podrá escapar de su posición
Bury is a short but very emotional word. It sounds secretive. To bury, hide, store your emotions away so nobody sees them. Some people take their secrets to the grave. Bury or cremation. A pile of bones or ashes. The human body can be preserved like an Egyptian mummy if you are into that type of afterlife closure.
Jeanette Ju-Pierre
it was buried. what could i do? and who had hidden it from me? all i got was a mysterious letter made crudely of magazine words cut out. How will I uncover my lost soul?
John
She buried her past with a rusty old shovel and pushed forward, embracing the future and her new life devoid of misery and despair.
Liz Penrose
Sometimes I bury my emotions. Inside I am brewing like a pressure cooker for hours. I have to find ways to turn down the heat. My moods can plunge me into outer space. The grizzly mood is starting. I am in a flap and going crazy. Whatever is playing on my mind is removing my joy “BIG TIME”. I still feel caught up in a limbo situation. I feel stuck instead of feeling WOW. I really wanted 2012 to be my personal ME year. There is still hope. Anything is possible. I need more faith. God will act on my behalf when the time is right so why do I worry. I do believe in God. I remember a funny story or something on TV makes me laugh, then the steam is released and the grizzly bear goes back to the forest until the next time. I will have to tame the old grizzly so he stays away permanently.
Jeanette Ju-Pierre
His hands. The final moment. I cannot hold them, cannot see them, cannot listen to the wind that flies between his fingers. With him, with me, I buried, I did bury us all. Our life, in its intimate form, in its weakness, I buried us. I buried us for good.d
You can bury your emotions, but no matter how hard you try, they’ll always hurt. I know that probably sounds harsh, but it’s true. You will never truly be able to flip the switch to your emotions off. No matter how hard you force them down, they’ll resurface. I know mine do, when I’m alone at night it seems like I can’t stop them. They bubble out of me and choke me with sobs, or laughter, or pain. You can’t keep every emotion at bay.
Think about burying the dead. Burying the roots of the plants similar to achilles mother putting him in the Styx river. Think think & remember
fabien
Everyone wants to know where the body is buried, but the thing is I really don’t remember. I must have blacked out, and it was rain so hard that night that I got disoriented. I know it’s in deep in the woods. I don’t think anyone with ever find it — at least I hope that don’t.
He buries my sadness when I’m around him. I don’t feel anger, or resentment, or anything, just ecstasy. He sadly has no idea though, and probably never will.
never let me go, never let me go. don’t let me bury myself deep into the cuts and bruises and all of the useless shit that i can’t possibly know about. never let me go. hold on to me and make sure i always breathe into your arms. never let me go. protect me if its the last thing you do, and know that whenever you need me or want me or hope anything, i will be there for you. never let me go and i will never let myself go. never let me go and i will stand, just for you, and i will help you back up because you always did. never let me go, never let me go.
bury your fears, drown your insecurities. kill your heroes and set fire to your politicians. watch the world burn – see the crimson skies. smell the wood scorch and feel the smoke grab hold of your lungs.
When I die, I don’t want to be buried,. I dont want to have tons of dirt on toop of me, wioth worms crawling over my body. people dont belong in the ground. we belong burned to ash, poart of the earth. I want to be part of the earth, floating in a stream, niot under the g
Logan
bury me alive in a fiery grave. remembered as a king, not a wiry slave. a legacy of brilliance, a leader of men, a memory of which you wish to extend…
It’s easier to bury everything. It makes it so much better when it’s time for you to go. We all leave eventually. We all have places to go, people to see. Soon, you’ll fade into the background, and no one will remember the things they’ve been through with you. Bury your emotions, and keep to yourself. It hurts less.
Destinee
bury my eye berries in your grape fruits. lust in motion – until my love makes juice…
Bury. Bury my feelings behind everything. The makeup, the lies, the smiles, the drugs. Bury everything that makes me want to die, just up until it finally breaks me. Breaks me down, and buries ME along with everything else.
i bury my heart in your hands – let’s see how it grows. let’s see if it survives the turmoil of snows. this love that i’ve chose, although brilliant doesn’t seem to be too strong or resilient…
Nobody wants to bury anybody but we must. It’s a natural human experience. I read, “As normal as breathing”. The sight of a closed coffin. Some priest in funeral black blessing it with holy water flown in fresh from Lourdes. Marcella was a holy woman. The church was packed to capacity. Her 7 year old grandson sang Ave Marie in a beautiful voice. A few people started weeping, even Father Joseph. Her husband was almost removed from the church. So great was his love for Marcella. Suddenly he shouted. “I really loved you darling. Why did you have to leave me”? Tears streamed down Dave’s cheeks. The organ music stopped. The priest said, “Let’s give Dave a few minutes to compose himself”. Dave bowed his head. His beautiful daughter, Alice, took his big hand in hers and he managed a weak smile. The congregation felt Dave’s grief immensely. What a funeral! Death is a celebration. Adieu….
Jeanette Ju-Pierre
bury. burberry. versace, gucci, designer brands, create songs and design a dance. the stream of consciousness? i’ll try to abolish it. those beneath me, why even acknowledge it? i’m damaging perceptions and making connections going through times harder than erections.
I tried to bury all of my anger in the back of mind, deep in my heart. I need to rid myself of all this resentment and not hold grudges, or to be so angry… It’ll be the death of me. I can’t do this anymore. I’m only 15, and it’s not healthy. I want “let it go” tattooed on my left wrist, so it’ll remind me to not hold onto stuff. And it’ll go over my cutting scars, so I won’t be tempted anymore.
Shara
Bury people. Does that make me morbid that I think of that first? Or is it simply the best and most interesting reaction. Things can be very very different in tone depending first on the person and second on their mood.
Rachel Sherwood
She buried the thoughts deep inside of her, like her thoughts were buried when she was bronzed not so long ago. It wasn’t that they were distasteful or undesirable – oh, far from it — but it was just something that was unlikely.
Not that she would let anyone know of her uncertainties.
A brilliant facade would fool anyone if it was bright enough, and Helena had been, and was now, by far the the most brilliant minds on the planet. She could keep everything locked inside. She had done so before. T’would be easy to do again.
It hadn’t been easy in London. Not when she was just growing, no; there had been too many physical constraints placed upon her by her family. Dreams cast down again and again, her unrest and anger became the flame that would forge her mind of steel; the oppression of her desires was only the anvil that would make it harder.
Laura Abbott
and here i am buried under it all under your weight and mine under the life i hope to someday lead under the longing for something i still don’t understand i am so deep so beyond repair so beyond anything i thought i ever would be i never thought getting hurt would hurt this much i never thought you’d break my heart
The shovel was heavy in my hands. By the cover of night I dig, callouses forming. But still I dig. Desperately, dirt is forced from the ground and thrown carelessly into a pile. Maybe not the most effective method. But I have to finish. I have to.
When people bury something it’s because they want to get rid of it, never see it again. Bury a lost love or pictures of an ex.
Catherine
They walked up the steep hill with the dark of night covering them. Nothing was visible, not even the whites of their eyes. “Shhh.” The tallest one said motioning that the others follow his suit. They lowered to the ground and began to dig. You could hear only the steady sound of their hands pawing at the ground. The band of four soon reached the bottom with a heavy thump. They anxiously scratched at the ground, excitement building up in each of them. They lifted the heave trunk out of the marshy earth and opened it.
Kelsey
I’ll bury my heart with a spade in the dark. It’ll still beat, but underneath the dirt it may not be as loud. Hopefully it’ll be covered up completely and I’ll finally have peace of mind about its whereabouts.
Baylee
How weird is that we bury those who have died? Who ever thought of that to begin with? Kind of a twisted individual if you think about it. You once loved that person, and you want them beneath the ground to spend the rest of eternity. It’s creepy as others would put it. That’s the way they see cemeteries later on once the grieving passes. They avoid going back there. They make up excuses to visit their loved ones again. They might even avoid simply driving by. You bury your loved ones and along with them your memories. Thankfully not all are like this. I’ve always loved the idea of being cremated though, getting to my point. When I grow up I want to have my ashes scattered on every continent of the world. I want to leave my presence to those who I have not met and to where I never got to lay my feet. All my life all I’ve ever wanted to do was experience new things, travel and explore. I want to remain on the beautiful phenomenon that is know as the Earth. But lastly, I want the last bit of me to float in space. To an even greater horizon of the unknown.
They buried him on a cold, dry day. The air burned her eyes and made them water, but she did not cry. She had done what she had to. He had died as he had to. And anyway, he wasn’t going to stay buried for long. The earth around here was contaminated, and he would come back for them soon enough.
TheDevil'sAttorney
Bury. Bury. Why bury? Why would anyone think about so gruesome a word? A word so often associated with death, but what worries me is when people are okay with it. Death. Bury. What do we usually bury? People, roots. Memories deep within our brain.
someone locked me in a box, and though its more than three feet down, i feel dead already. there are more moments of darkness in the imagination of a buried man than every one beneath the earth.
I feel sad that our loved ones pass over. It’s only natural. You never stop missing and loving them. I know we have all the memories. We can always review and revisit what was so enchanting and exciting. We can celebrate their lives. I will always remember my friends and relatives. Death is not the end.
Burying was the hardest part. She had lived with him for the majority of her life. Watching his body being lowered into the ground was painful. Part of her was being buried with him. The part that laughed at his stupid jokes. The part that found joy in little things. The part that loved his crooked smile. The part that made life worth living.
I buried it all in a ditch. It’s in the farthest, darkest nook in my heart and no one else will ever want to go there. And they will never find it.
It was a short ceremony. He stared at them, looking over the freshly turned grave. They would miss him, the boy knew. The one who died. Who left them behind when they needed him most. But there was nothing to be done. It was over. He was in the ground and buried. And so the boy passed into the next world.
little nick watched his father in the backyard. He wasn’t allowed to follow. He watched from behind the curtain as his father shoveled spadeful after spadeful of dirt from the where the old garden used to be. It was gone now, the old garden, just like his mother. In it’s place a spaniel would lie buried a few feet beneath the surface. It was his mothers dog, her constant companion until she died 7 months ago.
Helen tried desperately to bury her thoughts, to save herself from drowning in an ocean of anxiety, but she was in too deep and her keepers were calling in favours.
Enterrado permanecí por años
La tierra aún permanece, ensuciándo mi ropa
Contaminándola, envenenándola
Puedo respirar el viento sobre mi rostro y siento la libertad
Ojalá pudiese haber despertado antes y haber enmendado los errores del pasado
Pero el pasado permanece atrás y no podrá escapar de su posición
Bury is a short but very emotional word. It sounds secretive. To bury, hide, store your emotions away so nobody sees them. Some people take their secrets to the grave. Bury or cremation. A pile of bones or ashes. The human body can be preserved like an Egyptian mummy if you are into that type of afterlife closure.
it was buried. what could i do? and who had hidden it from me? all i got was a mysterious letter made crudely of magazine words cut out. How will I uncover my lost soul?
She buried her past with a rusty old shovel and pushed forward, embracing the future and her new life devoid of misery and despair.
Sometimes I bury my emotions. Inside I am brewing like a pressure cooker for hours. I have to find ways to turn down the heat. My moods can plunge me into outer space. The grizzly mood is starting. I am in a flap and going crazy. Whatever is playing on my mind is removing my joy “BIG TIME”. I still feel caught up in a limbo situation. I feel stuck instead of feeling WOW. I really wanted 2012 to be my personal ME year. There is still hope. Anything is possible. I need more faith. God will act on my behalf when the time is right so why do I worry. I do believe in God. I remember a funny story or something on TV makes me laugh, then the steam is released and the grizzly bear goes back to the forest until the next time. I will have to tame the old grizzly so he stays away permanently.
His hands. The final moment. I cannot hold them, cannot see them, cannot listen to the wind that flies between his fingers. With him, with me, I buried, I did bury us all. Our life, in its intimate form, in its weakness, I buried us. I buried us for good.d
bury
cover
hide
forget
don’t,
remember
You can bury your emotions, but no matter how hard you try, they’ll always hurt. I know that probably sounds harsh, but it’s true. You will never truly be able to flip the switch to your emotions off. No matter how hard you force them down, they’ll resurface. I know mine do, when I’m alone at night it seems like I can’t stop them. They bubble out of me and choke me with sobs, or laughter, or pain. You can’t keep every emotion at bay.
bury me not
on the lone prairie
but scatter me everywhere
when I am done
here
Think about burying the dead. Burying the roots of the plants similar to achilles mother putting him in the Styx river. Think think & remember
Everyone wants to know where the body is buried, but the thing is I really don’t remember. I must have blacked out, and it was rain so hard that night that I got disoriented. I know it’s in deep in the woods. I don’t think anyone with ever find it — at least I hope that don’t.
He buries my sadness when I’m around him. I don’t feel anger, or resentment, or anything, just ecstasy. He sadly has no idea though, and probably never will.
never let me go, never let me go. don’t let me bury myself deep into the cuts and bruises and all of the useless shit that i can’t possibly know about. never let me go. hold on to me and make sure i always breathe into your arms. never let me go. protect me if its the last thing you do, and know that whenever you need me or want me or hope anything, i will be there for you. never let me go and i will never let myself go. never let me go and i will stand, just for you, and i will help you back up because you always did. never let me go, never let me go.
bury your fears, drown your insecurities. kill your heroes and set fire to your politicians. watch the world burn – see the crimson skies. smell the wood scorch and feel the smoke grab hold of your lungs.
When I die, I don’t want to be buried,. I dont want to have tons of dirt on toop of me, wioth worms crawling over my body. people dont belong in the ground. we belong burned to ash, poart of the earth. I want to be part of the earth, floating in a stream, niot under the g
bury me alive in a fiery grave. remembered as a king, not a wiry slave. a legacy of brilliance, a leader of men, a memory of which you wish to extend…
It’s easier to bury everything. It makes it so much better when it’s time for you to go. We all leave eventually. We all have places to go, people to see. Soon, you’ll fade into the background, and no one will remember the things they’ve been through with you. Bury your emotions, and keep to yourself. It hurts less.
bury my eye berries in your grape fruits. lust in motion – until my love makes juice…
Bury. Bury my feelings behind everything. The makeup, the lies, the smiles, the drugs. Bury everything that makes me want to die, just up until it finally breaks me. Breaks me down, and buries ME along with everything else.
i bury my heart in your hands – let’s see how it grows. let’s see if it survives the turmoil of snows. this love that i’ve chose, although brilliant doesn’t seem to be too strong or resilient…
Nobody wants to bury anybody but we must. It’s a natural human experience. I read, “As normal as breathing”. The sight of a closed coffin. Some priest in funeral black blessing it with holy water flown in fresh from Lourdes. Marcella was a holy woman. The church was packed to capacity. Her 7 year old grandson sang Ave Marie in a beautiful voice. A few people started weeping, even Father Joseph. Her husband was almost removed from the church. So great was his love for Marcella. Suddenly he shouted. “I really loved you darling. Why did you have to leave me”? Tears streamed down Dave’s cheeks. The organ music stopped. The priest said, “Let’s give Dave a few minutes to compose himself”. Dave bowed his head. His beautiful daughter, Alice, took his big hand in hers and he managed a weak smile. The congregation felt Dave’s grief immensely. What a funeral! Death is a celebration. Adieu….
bury. burberry. versace, gucci, designer brands, create songs and design a dance. the stream of consciousness? i’ll try to abolish it. those beneath me, why even acknowledge it? i’m damaging perceptions and making connections going through times harder than erections.
I tried to bury all of my anger in the back of mind, deep in my heart. I need to rid myself of all this resentment and not hold grudges, or to be so angry… It’ll be the death of me. I can’t do this anymore. I’m only 15, and it’s not healthy. I want “let it go” tattooed on my left wrist, so it’ll remind me to not hold onto stuff. And it’ll go over my cutting scars, so I won’t be tempted anymore.
Bury people. Does that make me morbid that I think of that first? Or is it simply the best and most interesting reaction. Things can be very very different in tone depending first on the person and second on their mood.
She buried the thoughts deep inside of her, like her thoughts were buried when she was bronzed not so long ago. It wasn’t that they were distasteful or undesirable – oh, far from it — but it was just something that was unlikely.
Not that she would let anyone know of her uncertainties.
A brilliant facade would fool anyone if it was bright enough, and Helena had been, and was now, by far the the most brilliant minds on the planet. She could keep everything locked inside. She had done so before. T’would be easy to do again.
It hadn’t been easy in London. Not when she was just growing, no; there had been too many physical constraints placed upon her by her family. Dreams cast down again and again, her unrest and anger became the flame that would forge her mind of steel; the oppression of her desires was only the anvil that would make it harder.
and here i am buried under it all under your weight and mine under the life i hope to someday lead under the longing for something i still don’t understand i am so deep so beyond repair so beyond anything i thought i ever would be i never thought getting hurt would hurt this much i never thought you’d break my heart
The shovel was heavy in my hands. By the cover of night I dig, callouses forming. But still I dig. Desperately, dirt is forced from the ground and thrown carelessly into a pile. Maybe not the most effective method. But I have to finish. I have to.
When people bury something it’s because they want to get rid of it, never see it again. Bury a lost love or pictures of an ex.
They walked up the steep hill with the dark of night covering them. Nothing was visible, not even the whites of their eyes. “Shhh.” The tallest one said motioning that the others follow his suit. They lowered to the ground and began to dig. You could hear only the steady sound of their hands pawing at the ground. The band of four soon reached the bottom with a heavy thump. They anxiously scratched at the ground, excitement building up in each of them. They lifted the heave trunk out of the marshy earth and opened it.
I’ll bury my heart with a spade in the dark. It’ll still beat, but underneath the dirt it may not be as loud. Hopefully it’ll be covered up completely and I’ll finally have peace of mind about its whereabouts.
How weird is that we bury those who have died? Who ever thought of that to begin with? Kind of a twisted individual if you think about it. You once loved that person, and you want them beneath the ground to spend the rest of eternity. It’s creepy as others would put it. That’s the way they see cemeteries later on once the grieving passes. They avoid going back there. They make up excuses to visit their loved ones again. They might even avoid simply driving by. You bury your loved ones and along with them your memories. Thankfully not all are like this. I’ve always loved the idea of being cremated though, getting to my point. When I grow up I want to have my ashes scattered on every continent of the world. I want to leave my presence to those who I have not met and to where I never got to lay my feet. All my life all I’ve ever wanted to do was experience new things, travel and explore. I want to remain on the beautiful phenomenon that is know as the Earth. But lastly, I want the last bit of me to float in space. To an even greater horizon of the unknown.
They buried him on a cold, dry day. The air burned her eyes and made them water, but she did not cry. She had done what she had to. He had died as he had to. And anyway, he wasn’t going to stay buried for long. The earth around here was contaminated, and he would come back for them soon enough.
Bury. Bury. Why bury? Why would anyone think about so gruesome a word? A word so often associated with death, but what worries me is when people are okay with it. Death. Bury. What do we usually bury? People, roots. Memories deep within our brain.