There are two perfect men one dead, and the other unborn.
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Unborn Son
Flickered souls and eyes are gazing
Peering at the unborn son, behold
The things that demote a man
To begging with his knees upon the floor:
The beauty of nature walked to graze
As though the trees reach down to touch
The rays of sun that spreads the horizon
Like open arms to his unborn son;
A fire burning remiss amongst the whole
And shards fall out of the sky like bombs,
To hear the horrified warmth within
Like the unheard cry of his unborn son;
A perfect sunset bled to sleep,
The sandman pours his livestock onto heads
That need the hope and prayers of slumber
Like closing the eyes of his unborn son;
A speed of blasts and colors,
Engines roar still from the haunting motion
To have caused the crash to kill them both
Like the feeling he gets from his unborn son.
poem by Christopher's Dead
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There are two perfect men; one dead, and the other unborn.
Perfect Part 2
I don’t need perfect cloth
I don’t need perfect hair
What I need is a confidence
I don’t need perfect score
I don’t need perfect job
What I need is a support
I don’t need perfect word
I don’t need perfect dream
What I need is a chance
I don’t need perfect agreement
I don’t need perfect control
What I need is a solution
I don’t need perfect holiday
I don’t need perfect memories
What I need is a peace of mind
I don’t need perfect home
I don’t need perfect family
What I need is a comfort
I don’t need perfect love
I don’t need perfect life
What I need is an understanding
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Are Abortions Okay?
We've had three million abortions, statistics say
How many dead and dumped babies is that every day?
The abortions are bad enough but we can't see anything wrong,
As if tiny dead unborn babies really don't belong.
There are only a hundred and fifty abortions a day they say,
We are not allowed to know but; is everything okay?
We are all so politically correct that no one can object?
Can pregnant ladies do it, no matter what religion or sect?
There's something extremely wrong, though accepted here; I hate to say,
Regardless of what our appointed Supreme Court might say,
Why and when did we all become so politically correct?
With an unborn baby holocaust going on and can't be object.
poem by James Bredin
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Dead Relationship
what is this relationship with a dead father
what are these offerings to a dead father
what is this for?
whom is it for?
a duty or a right what for?
what the son had to offer a needy LIVING father.....
no one knew....there was no witness
what the son has offered to a dead father....
every one knew....there was quite a crowd to witness
the last right was a perfect performance
a perfect performance and that's what it was
to pacify the soul of the dead father
a perfect performance...out of fear
the SON would continue to perform this every year....
out of FEAR
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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We Cannot Save The Dead
WE CANNOT SAVE THE DEAD
We cannot save the dead,
Though we perfect our forms of remembrance-
The dead are the dead forever dead-
And we will too one day be among them
Dead forever dead-
Despite the way those left behind strive to remember.
Dead forever dead-
Unless God decide
In some way we cannot understand
That the individual human being
Is as infinitely precious
As those who love them here
know them to be.
-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Perfect Murder On The Perfect Day
The Perfect Murder…..,
On The Perfect Day……,
No one would find out……,
No possible way……,
She waited in the shadows….,
For him to pass by……,
When he did…..,
The knife did fly…..,
Stabbed him dead…..,
The low-life cheat…..,
Then killed herself….,
To make it all complete….,
The Perfect Murder….,
On the Perfect Day…..,
Happy Valentine’s Day…..! ! !
poem by Trade Martin
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Grief's Harmonics
At evening, when the lank and rigid trees,
To the mere forms of their sweet day-selves drying,
On heaven's blank leaf seem pressed and flatten-ed;
Or rather, to my sombre thoughts replying,
Of plumes funereal the thin effigies;
That hour when all old dead things seem most dead,
And their death instant most and most undying,
That the flesh aches at them; there stirred in me
The babe of an unborn calamity,
Ere its due time to be deliver-ed.
Dead sorrow and sorrow unborn so blent their pain,
That which more present was were hardly said,
But both more NOW than any Now can be.
My soul like sackcloth did her body rend,
And thus with Heaven contend:-
'Let pass the chalice of this coming dread,
Or that fore-drained O bid me not re-drain!'
So have I asked, who know my asking vain,
Woe against woe in antiphon set over,
That grief's soul transmigrates, and lives again,
And in new pang old pang's incarnated.
poem by Francis Thompson
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Your Perfect Little Girl...
Your perfect little girl dropped a grade on her report card.
Your perfect little girl yelled at you last night.
Your perfect little girl painted her nails black.
Your perfect little girl lied to you all her life.
Your perfect little girl cries herself to sleep.
Your perfect little girl slits her wrists till she bleeds.
Your perfect little girl hates you.
Your perfect little girl hates herself.
Your perfect little girl has given up on life.
Your perfect little girl had a tantrum today.
Your perfect little girl has her head in the toilet after dinner.
Your perfect little girl wants to run away.
Your perfect little girl hasn't let you dry her tears.
Your perfect little girl disobeyed you.
Your perfect little girl hates the world.
Your perfect little girl is hated by the world.
Your perfect little girl is very unhappy.
Your perfect little girl tried to commit suicide.
Your perfect little girl became a disgrace.
Your perfect little girl keeps alot of secrets.
Your perfect little girl deals with everything on her own
Your perfect little girl had to grow up too fast.
Your perfect little girl is on the edge of breakdown.
Your perfect little girl just isn't so perfect anymore.
poem by Gabriela Valoy
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My Perfect Sister
MY PERFECT SISTER
My perfect sister holds me tight
My perfect sister kisses me goodnight
My perfect sister knows when I’m mad
My perfect sister helps me when I’m sad
My perfect sister is so smart
My perfect sister has my heart
My perfect sister is good and nice
My perfect sister holds me at night
My perfect sister loves me lots
My perfect sister ties the knot
My perfect sister is here to stay
My perfect sister I have until this very day
My perfect sister I wish you well
My perfect sister yes I can tell
My perfect sister asked if I lied
My perfect sister knows if I’ve cried
My perfect sister has moved away
->My perfect sister is in my heart to and will always stay
poem by Megan Sandifer
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Massacre Of The Unborn
No survive
Unborn child
Cut to pieces
Left without a name
Unwanted because of the problems of humanity
Unspeakable crime
Silent war is the name of the game
Millions are dying in actions of death and pain
Misguided mothers make this happen
Sometimes for a financial situation
Or a sexual mistake
[Chorus:]
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn child
Innocent blood cries in vain
Defenseless lives are slaughtered everyday
They should make a law against this insanity
Unborn corpses are growing in extreme quantity
Premature stage
Slowly destroyed by the human race
[Lead]
Tortured by tyrants
Unjustly demise
Infant children are left to die
Just innocent lives they slay
There is no chance to escape
Murdering is the matter of this case
A merciless torture to take
No one will live, because they won't survive
There's infant dying
Can't you see
That they will not have a chance
Of growing up in this life
[Lead]
[Chorus:]
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn child
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sorry I Am Not Perfect
I'm sorry for lying
I'm sorry for trying
I'm sorry for crying
I'm sorry for dying
I'm sorry Mom
I'm sorry Dad
I'm sorry for being bad.
I'm sorry not being a good lad.
I'm sorry for disobeying
I'm sorry for being dishonest
I'm sorry for being so churlish
Although I never said sorry
This is one way for being so naughty.
I may not be the perfect daughter.
I may not be the perfect sister.
I may not be even a perfect friend.
But I am not a perfect women.
My body isn't perfect.
My speech isn't perfect..
My work isn't perfect...
Why aren't I perfect?
poem by Monica Rose
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An Unborn Poem
An unborn poem
Is perhaps a poetic reverie.
Sure it is, but I must say
Another poem
Has been conceived by me
It is yet to be penned down though.
It needs a pen that will never dry up
And the readers who will turn grey haired never.
Sure it is, and I must say
Within me living on
Is a poem superseding my others
Yet unborn after conception!
Certain poems are so, dear ones.
Between their conception and birth often
Scores of months entwine us the mothers to-be.
An unborn poem never dies.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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The Perfect Drug
The perfect drug
I got my head, but my head is unraveling
Cant keep control, cant keep track of where its traveling
I got my heart but my heart is no good
And youre the only one thats understood
I come along but I dont know where youre taking me
I shouldnt go but youre reaching back and shaking me
Turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky
The more I give to you, the more I die
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You make me hard, when Im all soft inside
I see the truth, when Im all stupid eyed
The arrow goes straight through my heart
Without you everything just falls apart
My blood wants to say hello to you
My feelings want to get inside of you
My soul is so afraid to realize
Every little word is a lack of me
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
(whispering)
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the drug, the perfect drug
Take me, with you
Take me, with you
Take me, with you
(continues in backround)
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr.Perfect
Mr. Perfect
By: Jean Pullman
Your smile it warms my soul
Your touch makes me lose all control
Your personality is too good to be true
Your looks I can’t begin to explain what they do.
CHORUS
You’re Mr. Perfect in every way
You become more perfect with every day
You’re Mr. Perfect no matter what they say
You’re Mr. Perfect you blow me away
You are so perfect to me.
Every single thing you do
Makes it impossible to forget you
You are the only one that I can truly say
Is perfect in every way
Maybe that’s why you can’t be
Not with her but with me
Because your perfect and of course you’re taken
Because of you my hearts forsaken.
CHORUS
You’re Mr. Perfect in every way
You become more perfect with every day
You’re Mr. Perfect no matter what they say
You’re Mr. Perfect you blow me away
You are so perfect to me.
I die a little more inside
Every time I look into your eyes
And know that you can’t be mine
It will be hard to find
Another guy like you
Who can take away the blue
So now I go on to say
Your perfect in every way.
poem by Jean Pullman
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There are two perfectly good men, one dead, and the other unborn.
I'm Not Perfect
I'm (x8)
Had we met at a different time we'd be perfect for each other,
Now were spending all our time, in this world come together,
My heart is aching, from all the love your giving,
Were not faking, is this the life were living?
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
More and more we are together, tryin to discover,
I see a flicker in your eye, are you lookin for somethin better?
You once told me lying on the ground, but keep goin up and down, yo!
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
Why waste it thinkin about it? taste it,
Don't waste it thinkin about it, taste it,
It really doesn't matter wherever i may go,
We're tied together, that's one thing we both know, yo!
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, i feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, i feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, now i'm right on time,
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History is a pact between the dead, the living, and the yet unborn.
quote by Edmund Burke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whatever your life's work is, do it well. A man should do his job so well that the living, the dead, and the unborn could do it no better.
quote by Martin Luther King, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is Nothing Perfect
basic is the rule
there is nothing perfect
in this world: no perfect person
there will always be lapses
no perfect planes
there will be crashes sometimes
no perfect clothes
for summer, some colors will still be hot
no perfect friends, there will always be
betrayals from time to time
there is even no perfect time
sometimes we caught in a whorl
with the whore
in a black hole where we do not know
anymore what happens next
there is nothing perfect even
in moderation
no perfect life
neither death,
ask God, he is not either
he was once in error
when he became
man.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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