Death Poems

by Thomas Ligotti, Richard A. Kirk (Illustrator)

Death Poems by Thomas Ligotti, with a whole new section of poetry titled "Closing Statements". Cover art and internal illustrations by the amazing Richard A. Kirk. Long out of print, Death Poems was originally produced in a very small edition by Durtro in 2004. This highly prized collection has been virtually unobtainable until now.

Genres: Poetry, Horror, Philosophy, Nonfiction, Weird Fiction

66 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2004

About the author

Thomas Ligotti is a contemporary American horror author and reclusive literary cult figure. His writings, while unique in style, have been noted as major continuations of several literary genres—most prominently Lovecraftian horror—and have overall been described as works of "philosophical horror", often written as philosophical novels with a "darker" undertone which is similar to gothic fiction. The Washington Post called him "the best kept secret in contemporary horror fiction"; another critic declared "It's a skilled writer indeed who can suggest a horror so shocking that one is grateful it was kept offstage."

Reviews

[Bill Kerwin · Rating 2 out of 5]

I want to make it perfectly clear that I love the work of Thomas Ligotti. His short fiction is the finest composed by any writer of modern horror, and I think he belongs right up there in pantheon, with Poe and Lovecraft, Blackwood and Machen. That being said, I also wish to make it clear that Death Poems is a terrible book. The only reason I gave it more than one star is because it is—in its own sad way—a quintessential Ligotti work (in much the same way that Convoy is a quintessential Peckinpah movie), and any great artist who composes variations on a central theme deserves at least a little for consistency.

Ligotti, as everybody who reads him knows, is a committed pessimist and a practical atheist. He is convinced the universe is malevolent, but that malevolence does not imply any sort of deity, one who wishes us well or ill. The universe conspires against us, without any real proof of a creator, and when we die we die. Forever. Game over. It’s as simple as that.

All the poems in this little book are on this particular topic. And everyone of them is unmemorable, and lame.

Ligotti has never been a quotable writer. His specialty is short fiction, and, although he works in miniature, he has no gift for the immediate, powerful effect. Instead, he builds his moods gradually, often with deliberate patches of vagueness, leading the reader along gradually until his heart is eventually filled with uneasiness and doubt.

In short poems like these, Ligotti lacks the both the time and room to achieve this sort of effect. Instead, he just writes a series of short lyrics, each of them end with a thud, and leave very little behind.

Here are three poems, chosen at random, to give you an idea about what I mean. If you like these poems, you really should get the book. They are all like this, one after another:

WEATHER CONDITIONS

On some days it’s so hot.
On other days it’s so cold.
Hot, hot, hot.
Cold, cold, cold.
Finally the word goes out
for you to settle down
in your narrow bed
where you will be comfortable
forever.


SAFETY IN NUMBERS

There are plenty more people
than there were at one time.
And plenty more are coming.
It’s as if something inside them
is always screaming in an urgent
voice: more, more, more, more.
Or maybe it’s like waiting in line.
Everyone feels better if they see
more are behind them than in front.
“That makes sense,” you think
as you make your way forward
and soon find that you’re next.


BIRTHDAY

Even after a person
is gone from this world,
people often tend
to remember birthdays.
They say: today is
the birthday of someone
who would have been
so many years old.
So just in case you’re
not around next year:
happy birthday.

[Rehan Abd Jamil · Rating 4 out of 5]

No one has the time to go looking for you over every inch of the earth..

[Andy · Rating 3 out of 5]

The title of this book makes one imagine it is a collection of morbid poetry, but Ligotti doesn't romanticize death, he speaks about it almost clinically. These poems are simple, at times deceptively so. That's not to say these poems have no emotional impact. Poems like Going Ahead, Premature and Impossibility certainly have emotional punch. Others like Weather Conditions and Memento are not without some dark humor.

Some of my favorites were Memories, Weather Conditions, Big Problem, Premature, Closing Time, Memento, The Taste and Counting the Ways.

It's difficult to pick a favorite, but it's either Counting the Ways, or Memento. Still, I would point someone new to Ligotti toward his prose as a first exposure. It's hard to give a rating to something I read in one sitting and I'm not a big poetry reader, but three stars "I liked it" sounds about right.

[Curtis · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you enter a bathroom,
keep the lights turned off,
light a candle,
look straight into the golden-tinted mirror, and say
"Ligotti"
seventeen times in a row...

You'll probably come down with crippling depression
and a phobia of leaving your apartment.

[David · Rating 1 out of 5]

Oh dear.

[Béla Malina · Rating 3 out of 5]

So this is about Death.

I mean Tom certainly wrote superior things in his time (a time that is still ongoing I believe).

This is a very simple text. A few sentences about the end.

I guess it delivers in simply stating obvious things we may not like to face.

And some of these poems are really pure in their simplicity and punch.

But it doesn’t make for a literary masterpiece.

[Lewis Housley · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I read Ligotti, I am usually transported. This time I was brought crashingly home to the center of myself. The universe is not kind and we constantly fool ourselves for entertainment, just getting along, or distracting ourselves from ourselves.

This collection though dark, makes me feel better that there are other poor bastards out there like me.

So Thomas Ligotti, if you are out there, Thanks for stopping by and spending the evening in conversation with me. I feel "better" tonight.

[A. · Rating 2 out of 5]

Straightforward declarations of bleak living. There's more poetry in his prose, if poetry to you is that immediate & magic singing of words. These Death Poems are just Ligotti looking at you and blinking once, asking, "Well? What did you expect?"

[Joshua Gage · Rating 1 out of 5]

Very weak poetry. There is little, if any, imagery in these works. There are few, if any, metaphors. Most of these poems are layered abstractions with little meaning or anything for the reader to connect with. There's no rhythm or lyricism to these poems. Not worth pursuing.

[Zac Hawkins · Rating 2 out of 5]

For Ligotti completionism if I can be honest.

[Jeff B. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Have you ever heard the term "momento mori? I looked it up recently and it means something designed to remind you that you're going to die. Death is something we often avoid thinking about and this book is pure memento mori - designed so you don't forget.

There are about 50 poems here - they are fairly short and to the point. No flowery prose here. A few of them even rhyme. They all point to death thru showing the futility of life. How we are born without asking and enter a queue. We get caught up in the bustle of life and one day we die - maybe at 8, maybe at 80. One day we're here and then it's over. We may live long enough to see our loved ones around us go before us. Once we're gone, the world moves on and we're old news in no time. Then we're forgotten. Sure, it's a little morbid, but kind of beautiful in its own way. A few of the poems were outliers but still on topic like the one that advocates for assisted suicide (we come into this world with others there so why do we have to go out alone).

I recently read The Conspiracy Against the Human Race by the same author and these two books complement each other well. Where The Conspiracy Against the Human Race is a thorough deep dive into many aspects of life and death, this book is succinct and to the point with its main purpose to remind you that that life is temporary and death is inevitable.

I really liked this. It's pretty short so it never overstays its welcome and made me realize I need to add more poetry to my TBR. Of course, this one is only for the morbidly-inclined.

[Tasos Droulias · Rating 5 out of 5]

Σ αυτό το βιβλιαράκι είναι σαν να συναντά ο Εντουαρντ Γκόρι τον Κωνσταντίνο Καβάφη.
(όπου ο Γκόρι ρωτά, μήπως έχετε ρολόι, πρέπει να είναι ώρα να πεθάνουμε. και ο Καβάφης απαντά, δεν προλαβαίνω τώρα, έχω να πάω στη κηδεία μου)

[Delmy · Rating 2 out of 5]

Repetitive. More like a collection of random thoughts.

[Gab · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love basking in a piece of literature that reminds me how utterly fucked we all are, but before I write on the walls that everybody should read it, too, I must remind myself that some people can be tipped off the edge by such things.

The morose subject matter that comprises this poetry collection is best taken in small doses. Reading the slim volume in one fell swoop is easy to do. To get the full impact of each poem, however, it’s recommended that the writings gets absorbed at moderate intervals.

Ligotti doesn’t romanticise death in the least. And life certainly isn’t viewed with affection, either.
What I love about Ligotti is not so much his constant "memento mori", but the dark, bleak humour he looks at it with:

"So just in case you're
not around next year:
happy birthday."

Sure, cynicism is basically what these pages are made of, but if you sift through it, you will find some philosophy, the same that is fully in bloom in Ligotti's "The Conspiracy Against the Human Race," which is another book you shouldn't read if you're having a hard patch.

Thomas Ligotti is the recipient of numerous genre awards, including the Horror Writers Association Bram Stoker, and the International Horror Guild Award. He is considered one of the best horror writers out there and I agree. So, as much as some people are automatically against reading depressing pages, which is 100% fine, this is no doubt good stuff.
This said, I think that having such a phenomenal prose writer such as Ligotti writing a 12-line stanza feels a bit wasted, almost like driving a race car in central, using nothing but clutch and brake to slowly crawl through the traffic jam.

[C. Varn · Rating 3 out of 5]

Uneven

Ligotti's reflections on death and existence are morbid and highly self-negating, yet in his prose work--both fiction and reflection--his thoughts are more sophisticated than here. His poetry is brief, direct, and plain-spoken. But it largely lacks images and feels mostly like quotes broken into verse. Ranging from philosophically interesting if nihilistic to something that reads like a depressed goth's sophomoric work, it is an uneven reading experience. There are flashes of dark wisdom here and there, but Ligotti does this to much better effect in prose.

[M. J. · Rating 2 out of 5]

Droplets of pessimism, death obsessions / anxieties written in unremarkable manner; Memento was the only memorable poem in the collection, managing to to build a suspenseful atmosphere to create a convincing narrative in verses; most of the poems are no more than a series of statements, inferior to Ligotti's imaginative fiction and akin to his non-fiction endeavor, only with less poignancy. Ligotti is truly a master of horror, this collection is however a low point of his oeuvre.

[Miguel Lupián · Rating 4 out of 5]

A pesar de que soy un gran admirador de la obra de Ligotti y de que me identifico plenamente con su filosofía pesimista, creo que la poesía no refleja su genialidad. Funcionaría mejor si esos mismos conceptos en verso tuvieran una estructura más narrativa, como si fueran aforismos o micro ensayos (pienso, por ejemplo, en el genial _Pesimismo cósmico_ de Eugene Thacker).

[Emma · Rating 3 out of 5]

oh Thomas

[Scott Holstad · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’m disappointed because I had been told I would love this book, I guess because I’ve had some “horror poetry” books published over the years. Mebbe so, but I’ve had far more books of poetry in other forms published. It’s simple, and I kind of feel this largely applies to this author’s entire canon — I like the themes, tone, morbid world view (much of which I tend to share), but that doesn’t make this guy a good writer and for god’s sake, I doubt anything could save this train wreck of so-called poems that don’t suck because they are formal or because they’re confessional or populist or postmodern or experimental or anything. He’s just a really bad poet! And honestly there’s no shame in that. It’s irritated the shit out of me to see and hear more and more people over the past couple of decades excitedly telling everyone they write poetry. At this point in time, EVERYONE thinks they’re a poet, and damn good at that. Trouble is that’s bullshit and always has been! Just because you throw together a few lines, maybe even self-publish a small volume of verse, doesn’t make you a fucking poet! I cringe every time I have to go to a wedding or funeral cause I know I’ll hear the worst kind of crap written by sincere, well meaning people. And they’ll get applause. From an audience that doesn’t realize the stuff they grew up reading and studying 50 years ago is so obsolete and a part of the distant past, they don’t realize they’re both showing themselves to be amateurs and a bit ignorant. Not that one has to be on the cutting edge. Many mainstream poets I can’t stand are still GOOD at their craft. Many populist poets, spurned by the Academy, like Bukowski, despite the image he fostered, knew how to write a poem and good ones. He knew the literary and poetic “rules” AND he knew how and when to bend or break them and pull it off effortlessly. Here’s a very famous American writer nearly everyone in the world has heard of and who has millions of fans (including me). Could tell a mean story, had real talent and influence. Most people can name more than one of his novels. But how many people know the titles of Jack Kerouac’s books of poetry? Right, no one. And I have them all. The fact is, no matter how famous or successful a writer he was, he was by god one of the absolute worst published poets of the past century! Wretched shit! Just cause you think you know poetry or you put lines down or a couple of people make flattering comments doesn’t mean you’re a real poet and certainly doesn’t mean you’re GOOD (using Kerouac as an example). People object and argue It’s subjective, and there is a bit of truth to that, but that’s not limited to poetry. That’s the argument made and the difference between the hard sciences and the soft or social sciences. You could make a legitimate argument that not only are poetry and literature subjective, but so are philosophy, religion, the arts, social studies, etc. But that’s why some general guidelines exist in each of these areas. That’s why you will study Hegel, Sartre, and Schopenhauer in philosophy but if you innocently (and ignorantly) ask virtually any philosopher or philosophy professor why we don’t study Ayn Rand, you typically get one of two reactions: side splitting laughter lasting uncomfortably too long or a hostile lecture about what a lightweight dittobrain brain she was, a “faux” intellectual whose “school” of philosophy she created is viewed as little different from how L Ron Hubbard is generally viewed. And they’re right about her. And just to prove I don’t have an anti-Rand bias, I was devastated when I found that one of my favorite writers and philosophers, a damn Nobel winner, ALSO typically isn’t included in Philosophy syllabi or viewed as a “real” philosopher — Camus! And I’ve long thought he was one of the three greatest existential philosophers in history, a view not shared by the “pros.” See, there are guidelines that can be employed that AREN’T necessarily in black and white, thus allowing a Donald Hall and Mark Strand to co-exist with Bukowski and Ferlinghetti as “legit” poets — even if that doesn’t always sit well with them. So Ligotti? I’ve gone on too long now and am tired, but it doesn’t matter if your language is formal, informal, experimental, etc. It still has to flow, to “sound” good on the page. If formal, what fits into the rules of rhyme, meter, stanzas, etc., must sound as natural as possible, must flow, not draw attention to itself and detract from the overall poem because it feels and seems forced. And while it’s harder to argue for rule adherence in free verse, just that one topic still applies. The language should actually seem and sound MORE natural, normal, flow comfortably, even in the case of surrealists or LANGUAGE poets. Because they know what they’re doing, what rules they’re intentionally breaking and why they MAY be successful at it. Ligotti’s poetry is made up of lines, words choices, a stilted dictation and lack of flow; it distracts from any point or message he may or may not be attempting to convey. It’s amateurish, buffoonish. It sounds like someone’s illiterate grandpa might. Fans may protest and argue “That’s the point, you dolt! He’s TRYING to make people uncomfortable with his poetry and his writing style, word choices, grammar usages, etc., are all part of that. How stupid are you?” (Meaning me.) Well, a rebuttal that’s I think many would agree with is been there, done that. It’s not remotely original but is definitely legitimate. I’ve done that myself with a number of poems and short stories when I was experimenting with postmodern metafiction. But while legit, just because someone may attempt to do that doesn’t mean they succeed or are any good. Which is the case here. I’ll end by throwing out a few names of authors who did exactly that, but SUCCESSFULLY, and are well known and loved by many (though still rarely in academia). One considered one of the best was William Burroughs, starting with his infamous Naked Lunch and most of his work thereafter. He and a partner are credited with popularizing and honing the “cut up method” to create almost meaningless text but still text one could get something out of. Ironically he was not the first, as Tristan Tzara and the Dadaist movement actually created and generated that technique. In the horror genre, there are fiction writers and the occasional poet who venture there (and also not “straight” horror, but more like dark surrealism that can incorporate horror elements). In no particular order, some who come to mind might include Anthony Burgess, who was SO linguistically experimental in his shock novel A Clockwork Orange that he had to spend an ungodly amount of time inventing a new damn language to fit the characters and the book (complete with glossary at back). Obviously Vonnegut, but some more current writers in the field who may occasionally succeed where Ligotti does not might include Boston, Crawford, Wayne AS, and most obvious of all, the late Harlan Ellison. I’m not saying this author has to be or become them. But he’d be well advised to do what most serious, professional writers do, and that’s study and analyze them to see where and how he/one can grow and improve, with your own voice intact ultimately. But until Ligotti shows evidence he’s done that, or from little I know of him, even gives a shit, I’ll continue to feel generous in giving 2 stars to this book and he’ll forever be relegated to the barely knowns, the wannabes, the amateurs who some think know what they are doing when such writers really don’t. Not recommended.

[Ramón · Rating 5 out of 5]

At first I found it odd that Ligotti’s poetry is very scant in style, with little to none of the fancy turn of phrases or clever wordplay that characterizes his prose stories. Re-reading this book several times hit me with the realization that it could be an intentional choice. When it comes to death, the ultimate fate of our organic bodies, maybe there is no need for pretense. No amount of stylistic syntax, fancy turn of phrases or clever wordplay will do you any good. So these words are direct, straight to the point. At the same time I’ve thought that if there ever was a book capable of leading its reader to self-annihilation, it might be this one. But at the same time the despair and anxiety in it can work as some kind of ontological balm. But this could be said about Ligotti’s body of work in general, I think. The reprint from Bad Moon Books includes a new section of poems, fittingly titled Closing Statements. This might be Ligotti at his most visceral, his most heart-wrenching.

[chris · Rating 4 out of 5]

Where logic is concerned,
we're all thumbs.
How couldn't we know
we were born to go?
-- "Here You Go"

Only after everyone
who ever remembered you
is gone for good and all
does the terrible insantiy
that once bore your name
achieve a true oblivion.
-- "Memories"

There are plenty more people
than there were at one time.
And plenty more are coming.

It's as if something inside them
is always screaming in an urgent
voice: more, more, more, more.
-- "Safety in Numbers"

Why should you have to live?
We don't.
Why should you have to suffer?
We don't.
Why shouldn't you have to die?
We did.
-- "Night Voices"

You entered this world
because of two people
who wanted you here.
Or perhaps they didn't.
Either way, you arrived
as though by some intent.

Then along you went,
going here and there,
doing this and that,
wanting what you wanted
without ever knowing
why you wanted it.

Happy or sad you were.
Good or bad you were.
Either way, they got
what they wanted.
They always do,
because of two people,
and perhaps because of you.
-- "The Instigators"

Among your other cares,
you are bound all your days
to service your teeth (and gums)
or face the consequences
should you forsake your duty:
the penance of the drill
and the insertion of metals,
to mention but a few of
the passions you must endure
to keep your teeth in your head.
Nobody wants to suffer this.
Nobody, nobody, nobody.
So much time and cost, so much
sacrificed for those choppers --
so much enforced suffering,
as if there were any other kind.
Yet in the end nobody will know
the price you paid for your teeth.
Nobody will see them as you lie
tight-lipped in your casket.
Nobody will know what you suffered
for the sake of your teeth, even as
they still suffer for the sake of theirs.
Nobody, nobody, nobody.
-- "Scratching the Surface"

Dear Mom and Dad,
I always wanted to ask:
when you went through the motions
that brought me to this dubious world,
did you ever pause to think
that I might rather you didn't?
Were you so possessed
you could not pause to consider
the full repercussions of making it?
-- "Writing Home"

[Stephane · Rating 2 out of 5]

Pessimistic, bleak, nihilist.

I want to read more poetry but every time I try it seems I don't really want to read more poetry...

But to quote Ligotti, "nothing that ever happens, makes any difference." So who cares that I like poetry or not. No one.

Maybe I did not like this book because I do not like the thought of death or dying. I prefer my brain to be tricked into thinking I will go on forever. Maybe I did not like this book because deep down, I know Ligotti is right, the universe is meaningless, I am meaningless.

Or maybe I did not like it because it is just plain, forgettable, devoid of powerful imagery, and in its essence almost too simple. Then again, maybe this is what it is about; talking about death in simple, pedestrian terms, because this is what death is. Death is simple, it is the ways to it that are discombobulated.

Read it and decide I guess...

[Tonk82 · Rating 1 out of 5]

La verdad es que me siento bastante mal dándole una estrella a algo, y encima algo de Thomas Ligotti, un autor que me encanta. Como escritor de terror es excelente, y tiene una prosa muy poética y tremendamente atractiva... Pero estos poemas son flojos, muy flojos.

En el lado positivo, muestran su habitual visión de la vida (bien expresada en La conspiración contra la especie humana), en el negativo... bueno, todo lo demás. Con poesias muy simples y sin matices, frases directas muy obvias y rimas bastante tontas. Tampoco ayuda que la mayoría de ellos tratan los mismos dos o tres temas una y otra vez, diciendo prácticamente lo mismo.

Me ha supuesto una enorme decepción. Es algo solo para completistas (como yo) que quieran leer algo más de Ligotti.

[Missy (myweereads) · Rating 4 out of 5]

“You descend the staircase in the darkness alone and pause before taking the last step.

Behind you in a room upstairs your own voice cries out, an impossible sound.

Lights turn on and people rush about the house without seeing you there on the last step.”

Thomas Ligotti’s poetry collection as the title suggest is based on death. Where one would expect it to be romanticised that isn’t the case here. Ligotti is very real here and straight to the point when speaking about death.

Some of these were quite sharp and dark with a few laced in dark humour.

This is a short collection and can be read in one go. Taking my time with each poem highlighted once again why I enjoy Thomas Ligotti’s writing.

[John · Rating 5 out of 5]

Two things to know about me right from the start: One is that I like poetry and two is that I probably don't know the first thing about poetry and how it works. Not "Annabel Lee", which is probably my all-time favorite poem; or a dirty limerick like "There once was a man from Nantucket...". Nope, I don't get how it works; I just know that I like it.
So why 5 stars for Death Poems, you ask? It's because a lot of the poems in this collection ask some of the same questions I've asked myself: why are we here? Why do we need to do this or say that when in the end we're all gonna be just dirt in the ground? It's good to know I'm not the only one asking these questions.

[Billy Degge]

Love the majority of ligotti's work that i've read but these are uhhh... lame. His thoughts on the nature of entropy are better expressed and explored in Conspiracy and he doesnt really bring anything interesting to the table here. His longer prose poems such as special plan for this world or degenerate little town, particularly the recorded versions produced by Current 93 are the best expression of his cosmic pessimism. The atmosphere doesn't have time to build here and most of these amount to bad jokes.

[Greg Kerestan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ligotti's poetry is more hit-and-miss than his prose. This collection of micro-poems feels at times like a depressed Rupi Kaur, as he repeats again and again how when you die, you disappear and are quickly forgotten. There are moments of levity and (possibly unintentional) humor sprinkled in, and moments of supernatural or psychological horror, but mostly the poems repeat Ligotti's thesis over and over: maybe death is bad, but life is definitely worse.

[Sebastian Aloi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Exquisito.
Una colección de poemas pesimistas, desoladores y depresivos que hacen las delicias de espíritus afines a estos temas.
La visión del autor deja al descubierto un tema tabú para la sociedad: el suicidio y la muerte como alternativa. Esta provocación directa a la conciencia de la gente bienintencionada me ha resultado de lo más novedoso y original (cuando no risible) que he leído en mucho tiempo.

[Cindy O’Quinn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Death Poems • Someone has read my mind, entered my thoughts. Had a look around just long enough to know someone has the same thoughts as you.

Many ways to die, but someone other than you gets to decide which of those is considered a crime. Yes, I saw your thoughts too. Will you recognize the answer before it presents itself to you? I did. And I’m not yet through.

[Millennium · Rating 1 out of 5]

You've got to read this book aloud, picturing yourself as a villain or a maniac. Was this book a waste, albeit a short span, of time? Yes. Ligotti is beloved for his prose. And the twisted worlds of his stories, like vivid nightmares. This book has none of that. Just disjointed proses that are quite uninspired most of the times and even just nonsensical. You might as well call them anti-poems.