Lazarus Heart
He looked beneath his shirt today
There was a wound in his flesh so deep and wide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
He turned around to face his mother
To show her the wound in his breast that burned like a brand
But the sword that cut him open
Was the sword in his mothers hand
Every day another miracle
Only death will tear us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
Though the sword was his protection
The wound itself would give him power
The power to remake himself at the time of his darkest hour
She said the wound would give him courage and pain
The kind of pain that you cant hide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
Birds on the roof of my mothers house
Ive no stones that chase them away
Birds on the roof of my mothers house
Will sit on my roof some day
They fly at the window, they fly at the door
Where does she get the strength to fight them anymore
She counts all her children as a shield against the pain
Lifts her eyes to the sky like a flower in the rain
Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Flesh Wound
Its four o clock in the mornin and the daylights creepin in
Im lyin awake in bed
Outside my window the rains just pourin down
And theres a pain inside my head
I looked hard into the mirror, took some water in my hands
And threw it on my face
But your memory wont fade away, I can see you everywhere
Around this empty space
This nights too long, Im fadin fast
I tell myself, this pain wont last
Its just a flesh wound
Missin my heart but it still cuts deep
Nothin but a flesh wound
It tore me apart and I still cant sleep
You know you really did it well
Now Im lyin on a bed of nails
But its nothin but a flesh wound
Better pull myself together, gotta hold my head up high
Thats what i;ve got to do
No damage done, but deep inside my heart
Who am I tryin to fool
Its over now, all in the past
I tell myself, this pain wont last
Its just a flesh wound
Missin, my heart, but it still cuts deep
Nothin but a flesh wound
It tore me apart and I still cant sleep
Ive got no choice, I must be strong
Cant lie here thinkin about it all night long
Its nothin but a flesh wound
(repeat chorus....)
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Introspection
If you go deep
Into the heart
What do you find there?
Fear, fear,
Fear of the jaws of the rock,
Fear of the teeth and splinters of iron that tear
Flesh from the bone, and the moist
Blood, running unfelt
From the wound, and the hand
Suddenly moist and red.
If you go deep
Into the heart
What do you find?
Grief, grief,
Grief for the life unlived,
For the loves unloved,
For the child never to be born,
Th'unbidden anguish, when the fair moon
Rises over still summer seas, and the pain
Of sunlight scattered in vain on spring grass.
If you go deeper
Into the heart
What do you find there?
Death, death,
Death tht lets all go by,
Lets the blood flow from the wound,
Lets the night pass,
Endures the day with indifference, knowing that all must end.
Sorrow is not forever, ad sense
Endures no extremities,
Death is the last Secret implicit within you, the hidden, the deepest
Knowledge of all you will ever unfold
In this body of earth.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lazarus And A Rich Man
What meaning can you find
in a Rich Man and Lazarus
both remembered lived died?
The rich man had already received
his reward in wealth luxury lived
could not forsake now for heaven.
Jesus allowed sickness
death to claim Lazarus
proved from death Lazarus
could be resurrected
from the memorial tomb
after dead four days
Jesus had told his disciples
outspokenly “Lazarus has died,
and I rejoice on your account
that I was not there, in
order for YOU to believe.” John 11: 13-15.
Jesus had said to his disciples
“This sickness is not
with death as its object,
but for the glory of God,
in order that the Son of God
may be glorified through it.” John 11: 4.
Jesus raised Lazarus
from the dead
by the will of God
who sent forth Jesus. John 11: 41-42.
Jesus has said
“I am the resurrection
and the life. He that
exercises faith in me, even
though he dies,
will come to life; ” John 11: 25.
when we encounter
poor suffering people
we are encountering
people who are enduring
the same life that Jesus lived;
in pure ransom sacrifice died
for; and as for me I have chosen;
better a tin shack in heaven
than a mansion in hell for eternity.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart...oh...Heart
My heart will sing if i'hear your happy voice*
My heart will smile if i'saw your shadow in my dreams*
My heart will sweet if i'feel your sweet kiss*
My heart will flowery if you always stand for me*
My heart will yearn if you lost from my mind*
My heart will cry if you received the sadness*
My heart will painful if you received the pain wound*
My heart will empty felt if you hided behind in the other heart*
Heart..oh heart*
Why must you feel all of all pain and the wound because of the love*
Heart...oh heart*
Maybe i'cannot to cry*
Heart...oh heart*
There was nobody see my heart wound**
Unrequited Love, Lovelessness, Broken Heart, Hopelessness
there is no wound that you can see
by all means you will see no visible injury
in this place the people that you meet smile at you
and they will say
' he's doing well and taking
more fortunes and luck and prosperity'
but there is a pain that only your heart feels
that which their eyes cannot see
that which their hands cannot feel
that which their ears never hear
there is this pain
without an open wound
there is no blood dripping
but there is pain throbbing
there is no bruise
no inflammation
but there is this pus aplenty
boiling inside but
without a possible exit
there is this voice hidden
inside you
screaming
there is this threat of a
sudden eruption
at any moment
there is someone inside you praying
that now it must perish
degenerate and then
altogether die and
disappear forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Flesh Wound
We flew over miles of ocean--be prepared.
I don't have the faintest notion who'll be there.
You underestimated; nobody sympathized.
I think you'll soon feel better once we get inside.
I see the door is open -- Why don't we walk right in?
Let's put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you'd be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound--another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound--another irritation you abide
You know the rumour's going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn't be surprised.
I say -- you're so outrageous -- you'll go to number one!
They'll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound--another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you're completely debonair;
Let's go dutch -- it's only fair.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound--another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound--another curse that you ride.
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Blood Tear Heart
LOVE
I love you
I believe you
you made my heart beat
I can't believe it
I'm in love
when I see you
my face turns red
my voice shakes
what can i do?
BLOOD
I can't believe
all was false
you wasn't the truth
I'm heartbroken
my heart is bloody now
somebody help me
let my heart stop
that still beat for him
blood blood
my heart is bleeding
TEAR
what is this warm thing
that flows on my face
Is it the blood?
that overflowed from my heart?
It is tear
no, it is just a salty water]
I can't be crying
I tear my heart
so that it won't beat anymore
It hurts...
not the pain that heart is torn
but the pain i'm betrayed by you
the pain we can't love anymore
HEART
my heart will never beat
my heart will stay cold
and nobody will find me
don't expect me to love you again
I'm not fool anymore
my heart has stopped
my heart has torn
In future i will be able to say to you
'you're just somebody, i forgot you'
LOVE
BLOOD-
TEAR
HEART
About the repentance
I am cheerful for what I’ve done
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am painful for what I’ve made
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am thankful for what I’ve got
But more so for what I haven’t.
I am shameful for what I’ve done
But more so for what I haven’t.
To rinse the sword won’t plug the blood;
To sheath the sword won’t heal the wound;
To break the sword won’t undo the wound.
Repentance is a selfish act
With no alternatives yet found.
06.05.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In High Noon's Heat
In high noon's heat in a Caucasian valley
I lay quite still, a bullet in my breast;
The smoke still rose from my deep wound,
As drop by drop my blood flowed out.
I lay alone upon the valley's sand;
The mountain ledges closed in all around,
Sun burned their yellow peaks
It burned me, too-but deep as death I slept.
I dreamt I saw the shining lights
Of evening feasting in my homeland.
Young maids with flowers in their hair
Spoke gaily of me 'mongst themselves.
But one maid sat apart in thought
And did not enter gaily in,
Her youthful soul was caught it seemed,
Lord God knows how, in some sad dream:
She dreamt about a valley in the Caucasus;
She knew the corpse that lay upon the ground;
His breast was blackened by a smoking wound,
His cooling blood was flowing in a stream.
poem by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Elizabeth Childers
Dust of my dust,
And dust with my dust,
O, child who died as you entered the world,
Dead with my death!
Not knowing Breath, though you tried so hard,
With a heart that beat when you lived with me,
And stopped when you left me for Life.
It is well, my child. For you never traveled
The long, long way that begins with school days,
When little fingers blur under the tears
That fall on the crooked letters.
And the earliest wound, when a little mate
Leaves you alone for another;
And sickness, and the face of Fear by the bed;
The death of a father or mother;
Or shame for them, or poverty;
The maiden sorrow of school days ended;
And eyeless Nature that makes you drink
From the cup of Love, though you know it’s poisoned;
To whom would your flower-face have been lifted?
Botanist, weakling? Cry of what blood to yours?—
Pure or foul, for it makes no matter,
It’s blood that calls to our blood.
And then your children—oh, what might they be?
And what your sorrow? Child! Child!
Death is better than Life!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters from Spoon River Anthology
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I could not forget..............
Sorrow laid by me all nights along
his tears were flowing all along
He cried all nights and never depart
Cause me pain in my heart
I asked him to leave me for a night
but he refused and hold me tight
Sorrow told me he feels so sad
for me cause i treat myself so bad
I told him not to do what he do
because i will never let my love go
Sorrow surprised for my speech
cause he thought he could be the leech
to the deep wound that inside
the heart of me and i denied
But sorry, I could not forget
the one i loved once and get
So leave me sorrow for loving him
Cause no one could ever be like him
About the wound believe me i can endure
because i will do my best to get back its cure
poem by Passionate flower
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Juice of Roses
thorn spark pain lashes until it ends
oh! hear my wound, split blood
splash like water fall on the wall
and boil seems in grave,
before the very eyes
my heart grab, beneath the
sorrows in vain
hurts silent the wonderful mood,
where everybody wants to
move, yet! so dark that i
can't touch, the wary heart that
sad it depart
leave me not to your path, sudden
flip, flirts my pub, oh! bring
and guide me, make my way
to the heaven i pray
bladed sword of thorn, rescue
my dignity, fight to the last
as you lead me free, spoiled blood
like cloth in the thread
and point it's direction, set
your vanity
oh, my sweet Roses, Roses whisper
that you are here with me.....
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Have You Ever Felt Pain?
To know what pain is hurts the most
pain is not just a wound in your flesh
pain is a dagger in your heart
To know what pain is hurts the most
pain is a lover slipping away from you
you keep on watching until there is nothing left to do
Pain is a friend who stabed your back
through your flesh into ur heart
and slowly you'll fall part by part
Pain is not just a wound in your flesh
Pain is a dagger in your heart...
poem by Wriju Adhikary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deep in thoughts of love, I came
Deep in thoughts of love, I came
On two young maids,
One sang: ‘It rains
On us, the joy of love.’
Their faces were so calm and sweet,
With modesty and courtesy,
I said to them: ‘You hold the key
Of all virtue and nobility.
Ah, young maids, do not scorn me
Because of the wound that I carry,
My heart has been dead inside me
Since I left Toulouse.’
They turned their gaze towards me so
They might see how I was wounded
And how a spirit born of sorrow
From my wound’s deep centre issued.
When they saw me so destroyed,
One of them smiled and said:
‘See how this man is conquered
By the power of love.’
The other filled with mercy, pity,
Made for joy, in Love’s likeness,
Said: ‘Your heart’s wound I see
Came from eyes of such excess,
Such power, they left within, a brightness
I cannot endure:
Tell me if you recall
Those eyes in you.’
To this harsh and fearful question
That the young maid asked of me,
I said: ‘In Toulouse I remember
There appeared an elegant lady,
Whom Love called la Mandetta: she
Struck me so fiercely, suddenly
To death, with her eyes, inwardly,
Through and through.’
She who had laughed at me before
Now replied most courteously:
‘She, who set herself with Love’s power
In your heart, gazed so fixedly
Into and through your eyes, that she
Made Love, himself, appear there.
If it’s deeply that you suffer
Turn to Love.’
Go to Toulouse, my little ballad,
Enter the Gilded Church there quietly,
Ask of some lovely lady, clearly,
To take you, out of courtesy,
To her of whom I told you fully:
And if you are received,
Say to her softly: ‘See,
For mercy I come to you.’
poem by Guido Cavalcanti
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The Dream
In noon's heat, in a dale of Dagestan
With lead inside my breast, stirless I lay;
The deep wound still smoked on; my blood
Kept trickling drop by drop away.
On the dale's sand alone I lay. The cliffs
Crowded around in ledges steep,
And the sun scorched their tawny tops
And scorched me - but I slept death's sleep.
And in a dream I saw an evening feast
That in my native land with bright lights shone;
Among young women crowned with flowers,
A merry talk concerning me went on.
But in the merry talk not joining,
One of them sat there lost in thought,
And in a melancholy dream
Her young soul was immersed - God knows by what.
And of a dale in Dagestan she dreamt;
In that dale lay the corpse of one she knew;
Within his breast a smoking wound showed black,
And blood ran in a stream that colder grew.
poem by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Sorrow Leads
You walk in the door no one does anything
Your walk to your room without a word
They say nothing
Their silence is the wound, it is the sword
You take the knife from your table
You slit you wrists and watch the blood drip
They wouldn't help even if they were able
They would just smurk and curve their lip
The blood slowly drips to your bed
This is where sorrow has led
For tomorrow you will be dead
Your eyes search for answers, they look deep
The knife shines red, as you turn it
Tonight you will forever sleep
The room is lightly lit
Tomorrow will never come
This you know
A distant horror for most yet a dream for some
Some say it's black as night others as white as snow
The blood slowly drips to your bed
This is where sorrow has led
For tomorrow you will be dead
Your mind is filled with pain
Waiting, waiting for a sign
The lamb will rest with the lion head on his maine
You think as you watch 'I know no future, but this is mine.'
Your heart beats it's last beats
Your eye lids close and your head falls
It is the creator you will meet
When you think this you smiles and then your heart stalls
The blood slowly drips to the bed
This is where sorrow has led
For now you are dead.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He's mine boasted the grave in victory
‘He's mine' boasted the grave in victory
'He is dead so now he belongs to me'
Mary and Martha gazed on in despair
Wishing that Jesus had been with them there
Then Martha met Jesus coming to Bethany
to share in their deep grief and agony
Then she told Mary who came to see
and fell at His feet weeping helplessly
'Lord if only you had been on the scene
Then Lazarus' death would never have been'
Four days he had lain in Death's sepulchre
far beyond the reach of any earthly care
'Believe in the Resurrection' He said
For He had the power to raise the dead
'Yes I believe that You're the Son of God'
'Whatever You ask will be granted Lord'
'Where have you laid him? ' sadly Jesus sighed
'Come and see, Lord, ' both the women replied.
Seeing their helplessness at the graveside
Deep tears of sorrow the Son of God cried
They opened the tomb, rolled the stone away
Then they heard Jesus in a loud voice say
'Lazarus come out' and amazingly they saw
That he who had been dead was dead no more
'Remove the grave clothing and let him go'
and each semblance of death was removed so
There His power over death Jesus did show
in that town of Bethany long ago
************
I was dead and in sins sepulchre lay
And then I heard the voice of Jesus say
'Roy come forth from the dead', I came to Him
and stood at the cross wrapped in all my sin
He washed me in His blood so pure and clean
I was made the cleanest I'd ever been
Sins linen bands He removed from my soul
and I stood before Him restored and whole
Come witness the miracle taken place
Here stands a poor sinner saved by His grace
For the Holy Spirit has quickened me
And the power of Jesus has set me free
So, grave no longer gloat in victory
You've been conquered by the King of Glory
Death no longer has any hold on me
now that my Lord Jesus has set me free
Written after reading John 11: 17-44
The Scars Of Lovers....
a sharp sword
sharpens itself against
another sword
metal to metal
to the sound of the gritting teeth
one wants to imagine
an ecstasy of
a wound
blood dropping from
a slit on the
hand
there is none here
for this is but an affair
of a sword to another sword
thinking that
there is no war but love
in the air
sweet sounds of birds
sex moans and
calls for a mating
of the season
there is this hate that hides
inside the chest
where there is no option but
to sleep with
the one that never tickles you
not a bit
where love is feigned and
subdued
by need by survival by
pretenses
that man understands it
one can see the scars
not the stars......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken Vase
The vase where this verbena is dying
was cracked by a blow from a fan.
It must have barely brushed it,
for it made no sound.
But the slight wound,
biting into the crystal day by day,
surely, invisibly crept
slowly all around it.
The clear water leaked out drop by drop.
The flowers' sap was exhausted.
Still no one suspected anything.
Don't touch! It's broken.
Thus often does the hand we love,
barely touching the heart, wound it.
Then the heart cracks by itself
and the flower of its love dies.
Still intact in the eyes of the world,
it feels its wound, narrow and deep,
grow and softly cry.
It's broken. Don't touch!
poem by Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Power Of Thy Sword
Lord of battle I pray on bended knee conquest by the rising sun
I'll wait for thy command with flame and blood at hand
glory and a broken sword.
I'm the master of the world I have no fear of man or beast
Born inside the soul of the world
Riding hard breaking bone with steel and stone
Eternal might I was born to wield.
Let us drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
The clash of honor calls
I will stand when others fall
Open magic doors
The will know the power of my sword
There is blood in my hands there is blood in my eyes
With blood in my voice I scream as you die
Thirsting for vengeance and mounds of the slain
Shaking the forest onto the plain
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
They will know the power of my sword
song performed by by Manowar from The Triumph Of Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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