Related quotes: Most of the masses are...

Zombies

Most of the masses are gullible they swallow what their fed.
They feed on exotic canards, prejudice and fibs. Alcohols
Imbibed to dull the aftertaste and nothing goes to waste.
From birth to death it never changes each robbed of true identity
By unseen malevolent minds who sow these seeds of animosity,
Enmity and lies; all poisoned zombies (the living dead) who
Roam the earth mindlessly in numbers that are mind-boggling
To those of us still left. We often watch and hear their rants-
Dissonance of ad-libbed ad nauseam and pledging of dead hearts
While humming individual anthems ad infinitum plus a day.

Follow what we say
Never, ever as we do
That’s our golden rule.

poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Disingenuousness

Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.

Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:

Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!

Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.

The March of Death

Death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silence Of The Damned

Can your hear the silence.
something isn't right.
dead is the night.
who turn out the lights.

then they converge upon me like vulture.
a breeze of wind blows and
bring the chills right down to my very bones.
I know I'm done for but don't even care
cause its not my nightmare but yours.
twisted and turned. living on dead memories.
eating upon them so slowly.

Can you hear the silence.
something isn't right. dead is the night.
Who turned off the lights.
who is it this time.
again they converge.
but this isn't my nightmare.
its yours. watch in despair.
suck in your last bit of air.
no life left for me.
giving up and letting the leeches feed.
for everyone has their needs.
everyone needs to bleed.
and this time its you destiny.

Can you hear the silence.
something isn't right.
dead is the night.
who turned of the light.
who is it this time.
just remember this is not my nightmare but your.
you open the door welcome them in.
so now you must try to fend hyenas off if you can.
if not welcome to the damned.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide III

Suicide is not just about death
Suicide is not just about depressive silence
Suicide is about the dead of the society
Suicide is about the ignoring silence of the masses.
Suicidal, a feeling beyond words
Suicidal, a feeling beyond expression
Suicidal, is synonymous not to death
Suicidal, a feeling, is not far from us.

Dead society with rocky feelings
Ignores the plea set forth by bodily language
Each of us busily busy with our own tasks
Time we have, but not the mind and heart to serve.
For a movie we take the depressed to relieve their stress
For a meal we take the suicidal to kill the seed suicidal
We enjoy the movie, we delightfully swallow the meal
We ‘presume’ our friends too shared the same feelings.

Deep down the deadly stalker lies in abeyance
Waiting to pounce by ounce, the victim remains haplessly helpless
Gnawing deep unto the conscience, into the being it merges
Dead fears them no more, only the moment waits to trigger the END.
We, the proud boastful members of the so-called modern societies
Skeptically ignore the pleas and cries of the few distressed souls
Assuming all is right because the victims look hale external
We let their inner turmoil roots deeper and deeper.

Their inner chattering continues
Contours of their rants appear on the face
The pricks of desperation surround their aura
Yet, we are busy planning the trivial of our lives.
Suicide is not just about death
Suicide is not just about depressive silence
Suicide is about the dead of the society
Suicide is about the ignoring silence of the masses,

Suicide is about our selfishness.

poem by cyclopseven Ram
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Ghost Town

The old town stood abandoned
left to those unseen to roam.
The inhabitants left behind
when the residence moved away.
The tumbleweeds dance through the streets
once alive with people.
Shudders sway back and forth
pushed by unseen hands.
Flowers grow where seeds have fallen,
dropped by birds and wind.
Spiders draw exotic webs
covering corners everywhere.
Doors left unlocked creak
under any breeze passing through.
Wild animals forage
watched by the unseen inhabitants
that live within in the town.
This silent town of ghosts.

11 April 2009

poem by David Harris
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Seeds with wings, between earth and sky

Seeds with wings, between earth and sky
Fluttering, flying;
Seeds of a lily with blood-red core
Breathing of myrrh and of giroflore:
Where winds drop them there must they lie,
Living or dying.

Some to the garden, some to the wall,
Fluttering, falling;
Some to the river, some to earth:
Those that reach the right soil get birth;
None of the rest have lived at all.—
Whose voice is calling:

'Here is soil for winged seeds that near,
Fluttering, fearing,
Where they shall root and burgeon and spread.
Lacking the heart-room the song lies dead:
Half is the song that reaches the ear,
Half is the hearing '?

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Buried World...No World

Deceit of life so sweet to swallow
Bones of lost souls
So bitter to swallow
Me, the world and me again
No world for me again
Harbinger of nirvana near dead end
Broken widow holds no bars
No true friend
No true
No truth
No friend
No NO
Confiscated love in love of human love
Birth of death
Or death of birth
No real object
No real
No reality
No object in subject
No in
No out
No NO
No words
No message
No N
No O
No…

poem by Amir Forougi
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Seein' Red

I'm seein red
Don't think you'll have to see my face again
don't have much time for sympathy
Cuz it never happened to me
You feelin blue now
I think you bit off more than you could chew
And now it's time to make a choice
And all I wanna hear is your...
So follow the leader down
And swallow your pride and drown
When there's no place left to go
Maybe thats when you will know
Follow the leader down
And swallow your pride and drown
When theres no place left to go
Maybe thats when you will know
And foolish lies well can't you see
I tried to compromise
Cuz what you say ain't always true
And I can see the tears in your eyes
And what you said now
Can't stop the words from running through my head
And what I do to get through to you
But you'd only do it again
So follow the leader down
And swallow your pride and drown
When there's no place left to go
Maybe that's when you will know
Follow the leader down
And swallow your pride and drown
When there's no place left to go
Maybe that's when you will know
Well I confess, I don't know what to make from all this mess
Don't have much time for sympathy
But it never happened to me
You Feelin down I don't know where i'll be when you come around
And now it's time to make a choice,
And all I wanna hear is your voice...

song performed by by Unwritten Law
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unleashed

Living in silence for eons,
He's planning the end for mankind
His eyes are ablaze with fury,
Venomous gaze is scorching us all
Feeling the stench of the carnage,
Sanctuary is wiped out and lost
The beast will announce it's arrival,
The moon turns bloodred,
The seas start to boil
Dreams of freedom perish and die
Sewing the seeds of death and decay
Soaring up to the sky, demonic vultures fly
Unleashed at last he is stalking the earth,
Spreading chaos and dismay
The sky is darkening slowly
As he draws forth over the plains
Corroding our hearts with his hatred,
Barren and dead lies the ground
Where he has been
His sign will be seen on his chosen
Fire will fall from the sky
Black is the veil of destruction
The lamb lies dead, the grail is no more
Dreams of freedom perish and die
Sewing the seeds of death and decay
Soaring up to the sky, demonic vultures fly
Unleashed at last he is stalking the earth,
Spreading chaos and dismay
Soaring up to the sky, demonic vultures fly
Unleashed at last he is stalking the earth,
Spreading chaos and dismay
Beware of the gaze of the serpent,
The evil can lead you astray
Feeling the blow of the trumpets,
The sky will fall down and life will decline
Dreams of freedom perish and die
Sewing the seeds of death and decay
Soaring up to the sky, demonic vultures fly
Unleashed at last he is stalking the earth,
Spreading chaos and dismay

song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Lines written in the Belief that the Ancient Roman Festival of the Dead was called Ambarvalia

Swings the way still by hollow and hill,
And all the world's a song;
'She's far,' it sings me, 'but fair,' it rings me,
'Quiet,' it laughs, 'and strong!'

Oh! spite of the miles and years between us,
Spite of your chosen part,
I do remember; and I go
With laughter in my heart.

So above the little folk that know not,
Out of the white hill-town,
High up I clamber; and I remember;
And watch the day go down.

Gold is my heart, and the world's golden,
And one peak tipped with light;
And the air lies still about the hill
With the first fear of night;

Till mystery down the soundless valley
Thunders, and dark is here;
And the wind blows, and the light goes,
And the night is full of fear,

And I know, one night, on some far height,
In the tongue I never knew,
I yet shall hear the tidings clear
From them that were friends of you.

They'll call the news from hill to hill,
Dark and uncomforted,
Earth and sky and the winds; and I
Shall know that you are dead.

I shall not hear your trentals,
Nor eat your arval bread;
For the kin of you will surely do
Their duty by the dead.

Their little dull greasy eyes will water;
They'll paw you, and gulp afresh.
They'll sniffle and weep, and their thoughts will creep
Like flies on the cold flesh.

They will put pence on your grey eyes,
Bind up your fallen chin,
And lay you straight, the fools that loved you
Because they were your kin.

They will praise all the bad about you,
And hush the good away,
And wonder how they'll do without you,
And then they'll go away.

But quieter than one sleeping,
And stranger than of old,
You will not stir for weeping,
You will not mind the cold;

But through the night the lips will laugh not,
The hands will be in place,
And at length the hair be lying still
About the quiet face.

With snuffle and sniff and handkerchief,
And dim and decorous mirth,
With ham and sherry, they'll meet to bury
The lordliest lass of earth.

The little dead hearts will tramp ungrieving
Behind lone-riding you,
The heart so high, the heart so living,
Heart that they never knew.

I shall not hear your trentals,
Nor eat your arval bread,
Nor with smug breath tell lies of death
To the unanswering dead.

With snuffle and sniff and handkerchief,
The folk who loved you not
Will bury you, and go wondering
Back home. And you will rot.

But laughing and half-way up to heaven,
With wind and hill and star,
I yet shall keep, before I sleep,
Your Ambarvalia.

poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When I first made Night of the Living Dead, it got analyzed and overanalyzed way out of proportion. The zombies were written about as if they represented Nixon’s Silent Majority or whatever. But I never thought about it that way. My stories are about humans and how they react, or fail to react, or react stupidly. I’m pointing the finger at us, not at the zombies. I try to respect and sympathize with the zombies as much as possible.

quote by George A. Romero
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Be Loyal To The Native

Immigrants integrated with the natives,
have lost identity and enmity.
Immigrants segregated from the natives.
have kept identity and enmity.

Tamils not knowing their language in Mauritius
Live in harmony, getting no prejudice.
Tamils with Tamil intact in Sri Lanka
Live in tension with the majority.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Come 1

All the subtle flavors of my life
Are become bitter seeds
And poisoned leaves
Without you
You represent whats true
I drain the color from the sky
And turn blue
Without you
These arms lack a purpose
Flapping like a humming-bird
Im nervous cause
Im the left eye
Youre the right
Would it not be madness to fight
We come 1
In you the song which rights my wrongs
In you the fullness of living
The power to begin again
From right now, in you
We come 1
Im unafraid
Never never scared
Worries washed
Pressed air
I am the left eye
Youre the right
Would it not be madness to fight
We come 1

song performed by by Faithless
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh, Ye Dead!

Oh, ye Dead! oh, ye Dead! whom we know by the light you give
From your cold gleaming eyes, though you move like men who live,
Why leave you thus your graves,
In far off fields and waves,
Where the worm and the sea-bird only know your bed,
To haunt this spot where all
Those eyes that wept your fall,
And the hearts that wail'd you, like your own, lie dead?

It is true, it is true, we are shadows cold and wan;
And the fair and the brave whom we loved on earth are gone;
But still thus even in death,
So sweet the living breath
Of the fields and the flowers in our youth we wander'd o'er,
That ere, condemn'd, we go
To freeze 'mid Hecla's snow,
We would taste it a while, and think we live once more!

poem by Thomas Moore
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Dead Poet's Harmony

I saunter this earth, in soul's dead
Digesting their beauty and what they said
Poets weaved my fate and mine destiny
With their song and beautiful harmony
I follow them as they follow me
Inside of me, inside of thee
Dead poets live in immortality..
And sing through we for an eternity..
It is in Keats internal rhyme, my poem's enzyme
Yeats Irish mist where my sentiment exist
Shakepeare's sonnets write my life's true love
Poe's raven stalks in the shadows of my woes
And behind Emerson's mind, my mind transcends
And from all Poets pain, my soul descends…
Every song must be sung, and every poem must be shone
As we saunter earth, and resurrect birth
To the dead poet's souls of our destiny
As we all write in their harmony

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Lines Written On Hearing The News Of The Death Of Napoleon

What! alive and so bold, O Earth?
Art thou not overbold?
What! leapest thou forth as of old
In the light of thy morning mirth,
The last of the flock of the starry fold?
Ha! leapest thou forth as of old?
Are not the limbs still when the ghost is fled,
And canst thou move, Napoleon being dead?

How! is not thy quick heart cold?
What spark is alive on thy hearth?
How! is not HIS death-knell knolled?
And livest THOU still, Mother Earth?
Thou wert warming thy fingers old
O’er the embers covered and cold
Of that most fiery spirit, when it fled--
What, Mother, do you laugh now he is dead?

'Who has known me of old,' replied Earth,
'Or who has my story told?
It is thou who art overbold.'
And the lightning of scorn laughed forth
As she sung, 'To my bosom I fold
All my sons when their knell is knolled,
And so with living motion all are fed,
And the quick spring like weeds out of the dead.

'Still alive and still bold,' shouted Earth,
'I grow bolder and still more bold.
The dead fill me ten thousandfold
Fuller of speed, and splendour, and mirth.
I was cloudy, and sullen, and cold,
Like a frozen chaos uprolled,
Till by the spirit of the mighty dead
My heart grew warm. I feed on whom I fed.

'Ay, alive and still bold.' muttered Earth,
'Napoleon's fierce spirit rolled,
In terror and blood and gold,
A torrent of ruin to death from his birth.
Leave the millions who follow to mould
The metal before it be cold;
And weave into his shame, which like the dead
Shrouds me, the hopes that from his glory fled.'

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Life Machine

Me Ive just died
But some machine keeps on humming
Im just an extra piece of dead meat to keep running
Why wont you let me die in peace?
Why wont you let me die with some kind of honour?
Why wont you let me die at all?
I know
Youve got your principles
My body lies immobile
I left it days ago
And me I watch from somewhere as the loved ones come and go
I see them glancing at the switch
I hear them whispering maybe its better that way
I see the love turn into feelings
I know
Arent quite the same
I see the men of learning
Pacing to and fro
But how can I expect the sane to ever know?
Id rather die than have no mind
I know my brain is gone damaged beyond repair
I see an empty shell below me
I know
Ive had my time

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finality

When I am dead I will not care
How future generations fare,
For I will be so unaware.

Though fields their slain has carpeted,
And seas be salt with tears they shed,
Not one I'll waste, for I'll be dead.

Though atom bombs in ashes lay
Their skyey cities of to-day,
With carrion lips I cannot pray.

Though ruin reigns and madness raves,
And cowering men creep back in caves,
I cannot help to dig their graves.

Though fools for knowledge delve too deep,
And wake dark demons from their sleep,
I will not have the eyes to weep.

I will not care, I cannot care,
For I will be no longer there
To share their sorrow and despair.

And nevermore my heart will bleed
When on my brain the blind-worms feed,
For I'll be dead, dead, DEAD indeed.

And when I rot and cease to be,
It matters not a jot to me
What may be man's dark destiny.

Ah! there you have the hell of it,
As in the face of Fate I spit
I know she doesn't mind a bit.

A thousand millions clot this earth,
And billions more await their birth -
For what? . . . Ye gods, enjoy your mirth!

poem by Robert William Service
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The Unclean

Defiled, bleeding cadaver
Conceals the torn, useless flesh which has nurtured his weakness,
From his birth to his death,
Through every agonizing breath
From seeing to blind,
He fucks his own mind
In the back of his brain
He is learning the strain
Of the chains which now keep
His shrinking mind from all sleep

Corrupted corpses collect in the corners
Hiding the bitter sweet fruits death has to offer
Throughout life into the grave
Malicious angels leave him raped
Until this flesh is born anew
His unheard screams will only stew
And I rejoice through horrid moaning,
As troubled children reach out, groaning
For soon the gates reveal the master
Which leave the victims breathing faster

Forest cellars cloak the shadows passing through experience,
Ritualistic lust for the dead is all we expect from the blackening masses,
Malevolent personalities,
Dictating evil claiming the tools,
Bow before this idol you have enthroned
Consume the enraptured vessels labeled slaves,
They are the footstool,
This earth is the throne

poem by Jack Cropes
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Devil's Night

a lust for blood a horrors night
a longing for the taste of innocent
flesh demons come out to play
when the nights hour is none
let the rest less rise and roam
through the streets of the living
let all awake hear the screams
as blood stains the nights streets
reward the wicked with a personal
lick of the tongue down the neck
as the blood filled vains pop in your
mouth feel alive again as your thrist
for blood is lifted
feed my children feed rip the life out of
the living let all your my children feed
allow the living to fear when the nights
none let only the wandering souls of the
dead roam these streets
cause tonight we feed like
kings on to the flesh of the living
let all a sleep awake to the horried streets
an when the nights bright let the
shattered memories of former friends
mothers, children, father be seen in a pool
of there own blood as we rest to return again
when the clock strights 3am and the night
becomes none =] hahaha until tomorrow my pretties
until tomorrow

poem by Robert Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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