Hell
The friends who stood about my bed
Looked down upon my face and said:
'God's will be done-the fellow's dead.'
When from my body I was free
I straightway felt myself, ah me!
Sink downward to the life to be.
Full twenty centuries I fell,
And then alighted. 'Here you dwell
For aye,' a Voice cried-'this is Hell!'
A landscape lay about my feet,
Where trees were green and flowers sweet.
The climate was devoid of heat.
The sun looked down with gentle beam
Upon the bosom of the stream,
Nor saw I any sign of steam.
The waters by the sky were tinged,
The hills with light and color fringed.
Birds warbled on the wing unsinged.
'Ah, no, this is not Hell,' I cried;
'The preachers ne'er so greatly lied.
This is Earth's spirit glorified!
'Good souls do not in Hades dwell,
And, look, there's John P. Irish!' 'Well,'
The Voice said, 'that's what makes it Hell.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wolf
That was a time for falling,
I knew you well.
There was no time for calling,
Me when you fell.
This is a time to take cover ,
In a wishing well.
Summer was blowing all over me when you fell,
Sailors can take all the breathing
Out of the sail,
I took a trip when you needed me.
When you fell,
Waters were driving me
To a deep place
I close my eyes to see,
Your sweet face,
A coke inside me,
I slept in hell.
Angels can be so deceiving
When they love you well,
Did you think you would be leaving me?
These are some lavender flowers
In a broken shell
They comfort me ever since the day when you fell.
When you fell,
Waters were dancing me
In a dark place,
I close my eyes to see
Your determined face,
My secret inside me
I slept in hell.
This is a time for believing
In fairy tales,
One in which you are brought back to me.
Wolf, I cried wolf.
Wolf, I cried wolf.
Wolf, I cried wolf.
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 107
Those who wander far from God
And find no place to dwell
they begin to hunger and to thirst
As they approach the gates of hell
Then they cried out unto God
In the depths of their distress
He delivered them and set them free
And they thanked Him for His goodness
He satisfies the longing soul
He fills the hungry heart
He gives living water from above
And every soul a brand new start
Those who dwell in darkness
And refuse to hear their God
Their hearts are brought down very low
As they rebel against God's word
Then they cried out unto God
In the depths of their distress
He delivered them and set them free
And they thanked Him for His goodness
He has broken down the gates of bronze
And cut the bars of iron in two
The gates of hell shall not prevent
The Lord and what He has to do
Those who say there is no God
Are fools and are afflicted
Their sins will lead them near to death
Unless they are convicted
Then they cried out unto God
In the depths of their distress
He delivered them and set them free
And they thanked Him for His goodness
Gods children often times are caught
In storms that God did send
They discover that they need Gods help
As they come to their wits end
Then they cried out unto God
In the depths of their distress
He delivered them and set them free
And they thanked Him for His goodness
God hears the cries of those who call
He creates rivers in the barren place
But the proud mans voice is never heard
From them He turns His holy face
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Planet Hell
Now, is this real?
Much too real
hell, planet hell
much too real
chemical weapons
burning citizens
body count rising
chaos
digital combat
ruin and debris
decomposed bodies
rancid, planet
hell, planet hell
much too real
deadly enemy
murderous machines
countless homicide
conflict
country vs. country
social anarchy
deconstruct order
anguish, planet
hell, dwell, die, why?
Planet in despair
paralysed with fear
frequent suicide
downfall
technical abuse
nature in decay
nuclear demise
outrage
Hell, dwell, die, why?
Hell, dwell, die...
song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont Dwell
Every time I get near your field of gravity
You look so sad to me tell how could that be?
ah- ah she said things I obsess
I would never confess
ah- ah I told her dont dwell
That will leave you in hell
Sometimes things that youre scorned for
You should be adored for
But like I told her dont dwell
I know my love that I look dilapidated
But are you glad I made it
Can you tell me that much
ah-ah Why are you surprised
I dont take my advice
ah-ah she told me dont dwell
That will leave you in hell
Sometimes I need reminding
Regret is so blinding
But like I told me dont dwell
Everything is a choice
Go ahead raise your voice
Might as well forgive your self
That means more than someone else
Set you free break the shell
To your demons farewell
(Ooh na na na na) I tell you dont dwell
song performed by by 311
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Merciful Governor
Standing within the triple wall of Hell,
And flattening his nose against a grate
Behind whose brazen bars he'd had to dwell
A thousand million ages to that date,
Stoneman bewailed his melancholy fate,
And his big tear-drops, boiling as they fell,
Had worn between his feet, the record mentions,
A deep depression in the 'good intentions.'
Imperfectly by memory taught how
For prayer in Hell is a lost art-he prayed,
Uplifting his incinerated brow
And flaming hands in supplication's aid.
'O grant,' he cried, 'my torment may be stayed
In mercy, some short breathing spell allow!
If one good deed I did before my ghosting,
Spare me and give Delmas a double roasting.'
Breathing a holy harmony in Hell,
Down through the appalling clamors of the place,
Charming them all to willing concord, fell
A Voice ineffable and full of grace:
'Because of all the law-defying race
One single malefactor of the cell
Thou didst not free from his incarceration,
Take thou ten thousand years of condonation.'
Back from their fastenings began to shoot
The rusted bolts; with dreadful roar, the gate
Laboriously turned; and, black with soot,
The extinguished spirit passed that awful strait,
And as he legged it into space, elate,
Muttered: 'Yes, I remember that galoot
I'd signed his pardon, ready to allot it,
But stuck it in my desk and quite forgot it.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Cried
I need you
Simple words
But words which had never been heard
By the soul
Stoned to death
But still living
And so he froze where he stood
And he looked to the ground
And he cried
He cried
Ride our minds
If you must
But theres always a line you dont cross
Time is short
Dont be cruel
Oh you dont know the power
In what youre saying
Oh ...
And so he froze where he stood
And he looked to the ground
And he cried
He cried
People where
I come from
They survive without feelings or blood
I never could
Was stoned to death
But Im still living
So he froze where he stood
And he looked to the ground
And he cried
He cried
So he froze
And he looked, and he looked
To the ground
And he cried
He cried
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eurydice
I
So you have swept me back,
I who could have walked with the live souls
above the earth,
I who could have slept among the live flowers
at last;
so for your arrogance
and your ruthlessness
I am swept back
where dead lichens drip
dead cinders upon moss of ash;
so for your arrogance
I am broken at last,
I who had lived unconscious,
who was almost forgot;
if you had let me wait
I had grown from listlessness
into peace,
if you had let me rest with the dead,
I had forgot you
and the past.
II
Here only flame upon flame
and black among the red sparks,
streaks of black and light
grown colourless;
why did you turn back,
that hell should be reinhabited
of myself thus
swept into nothingness?
why did you glance back?
why did you hesitate for that moment?
why did you bend your face
caught with the flame of the upper earth,
above my face?
what was it that crossed my face
with the light from yours
and your glance?
what was it you saw in my face?
the light of your own face,
the fire of your own presence?
What had my face to offer
but reflex of the earth,
hyacinth colour
caught from the raw fissure in the rock
where the light struck,
and the colour of azure crocuses
and the bright surface of gold crocuses
and of the wind-flower,
swift in its veins as lightning
and as white.
III
Saffron from the fringe of the earth,
wild saffron that has bent
over the sharp edge of earth,
all the flowers that cut through the earth,
all, all the flowers are lost;
everything is lost,
everything is crossed with black,
black upon black
and worse than black,
this colourless light.
IV
Fringe upon fringe
of blue crocuses,
crocuses, walled against blue of themselves,
blue of that upper earth,
blue of the depth upon depth of flowers,
lost;
flowers,
if I could have taken once my breath of them,
enough of them,
more than earth,
even than of the upper earth,
had passed with me
beneath the earth;
if I could have caught up from the earth,
the whole of the flowers of the earth,
if once I could have breathed into myself
the very golden crocuses
and the red,
and the very golden hearts of the first saffron,
the whole of the golden mass,
the whole of the great fragrance,
I could have dared the loss.
V
So for your arrogance
and your ruthlessness
I have lost the earth
and the flowers of the earth,
and the live souls above the earth,
and you who passed across the light
and reached
ruthless;
you who have your own light,
who are to yourself a presence,
who need no presence;
yet for all your arrogance
and your glance,
I tell you this:
such loss is no loss,
such terror, such coils and strands and pitfalls
of blackness,
such terror
is no loss;
hell is no worse than your earth
above the earth,
hell is no worse,
no, nor your flowers
nor your veins of light
nor your presence,
a loss;
my hell is no worse than yours
though you pass among the flowers and speak
with the spirits above earth.
VI
Against the black
I have more fervour
than you in all the splendour of that place,
against the blackness
and the stark grey
I have more light;
and the flowers,
if I should tell you,
you would turn from your own fit paths
toward hell,
turn again and glance back
and I would sink into a place
even more terrible than this.
VII
At least I have the flowers of myself,
and my thoughts, no god
can take that;
I have the fervour of myself for a presence
and my own spirit for light;
and my spirit with its loss
knows this;
though small against the black,
small against the formless rocks,
hell must break before I am lost;
before I am lost,
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memphis
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
I got to get away, study my geography
Im just a shadow of the boy I used to be
I used to see the light, now its all a mystery
I used to feel the beat, now I feel a million miles from...
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
I used dirty words never too excessively
But saying rock&roll never seemed so bad to me
I dare said it in hip and happy company
I was in and out in a second on my way to...
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Memphis, so where the hell is memphis?
I had a one-way ticket and a little radio
I turned it on, heard the sound from twenty years ago
Somebody smiled and said, thats the only way to go
He died at twenty-one, now nobodys innocent in...
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Somebody turned around, said, I got to disagree
He wrote that sort of turn people out to anarchy
He made them think about marlon brando on tv
I guess they still went down against anything they got in...
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
I met a wise old man, he had longer hair than me
He said, memphis is nothing like it used to be
A hundred dead guitarists lying in the cemetry
I felt a sudden chill, now Im not so sure about...
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Memphis - where the hell is memphis?
Im on a lonesome train on a lonesome track
I think Ill jump right off, head for home, double back
And though Im better now I know that no-one knows the facts
Im gonna start again, forget I ever heard about...
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven And Hell
Imagine no Heaven and no Hell, these are words on which to dwell,
Written by a spiritually empty pen, this, to deceive a world of men.
Told to think about just today, ignoring what God’s Word does say,
Suggesting nothing about eternity, but only what their eyes can see.
But, there is a Heaven up above, a place in Eternity, filled with love,
The dwelling place of Eternal God, reigning above the earth we trod.
And there really is a Hell beneath, full of wailing and gnashing teeth.
The Hell Christ described my friend, is a lake of fire that has no end.
This man’s imagination will not last, when his life upon earth is past,
And indeed all men will face reality, when they pass on into eternity.
Heaven and Hell were spoke of, by Jesus Christ, who reigns above.
Hell was created by God for sin, that in mortal bodies reigns within,
Created for Satan and his crew, not initially intended for me or you,
A place in Heaven is prepared for us, who in Christ place their trust,
But, one thing that cannot enter in, the Glories of Heaven is our sin.
So Christ came as our sacrifice, to cleanse believers, for Paradise.
Up in Heaven not down in Hell, is where believers one day will dwell,
And not through vain imagination, but through God’s great Salvation.
Hell eternally is prepared for, Satan and all men who reject The Lord,
Far from a mindless interjection, it is for many their eternal selection.
(Copyright ©08/2007)
Final Destination
There is one thought upon which I constantly dwell
With that one thought I get sick and my face turns pale
Upon my life salvation will I win, or or am I destined to fail
So I wonder if I am going to Heaven, or am I going to Hell.
Never upon my back was a sign saying this soul is for sale
No man truly knows of my sorrows, or of my life's tale
So out of confusion and query this question to GOD I must yell
Am I going to Heaven, or am I going to Hell.
One day alone, I know I will walk upon deaths trail
Then I will meet death, and I will pull aside its dark veil
It will only take my soul, as the body is but a shell
So I wonder will I be going to Heaven, or will I be going to Hell.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ten Thousand Angels Cried
Stillness Filled The Heavens On Crucifixion Day
Some Say It Rained I Don't Know If It's True
Well I Can Just I'magine Ten Thousand Angels Cried
That Would Seem Like Rain To Me And You
The Angels All Stood Ready To Take Him From The Tree
They Waited For The Words From His Voice
And When He Asked The Father Why Has Thou Forsaken Me
They Watched The Saviour Die Of His Own Choice
I've Never Seen Ten Thousand Angels Cry
But I'm Sure They Did
As They Stood By
And Watched The Saviour Die
God Turned His Head Away
He Couldn't Bear The Sight
It Must Have Looked Like Rain
When Ten Thousand Angels Cried
As The Sun Slipped Away
The Skies Turned To Grey
And When Jesus Gave His All
That's When The Tears Began To Fall
I've Never Seen Ten Thousand Angels Cry
But I'm Sure They Did
As They Stood By
And Watched The Saviour Die
God Turned His Head Away
He Couldn't Bear The Sight
It Must Have Looked Like Rain
When Ten Thousand Angels Cried
It Must Have Looked Like Rain
When Ten Thousand Angels Cried
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes from You Light Up My Life
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im an Angel Now
One night as I sat beneath the tree.
I cried to our dear Lord above.
I looked up in to the open sky & hoped he'd answer me.
Lord I'm lost, I've travelled far but still I seem to roam.
Please light the way and lead me back home.
I told him of my burdens.
And of the everlasting sadness in my hart.
That from his lost love I never felt so apart.
Why did you take my Grandad Lord?
I just can not comprehend why.
No longer can I touch his face or hold his hand.
His loving smile has gone.
I'm angry Lord.
I'm missing him like mad.
I am drowning in my griefe and sorrow.
Please help to heal my griefe.
It was then that I head his gentle voice.
And felt his presence near.
How I longed for him to stay.
As I cried another tear.
He said I'm an angel now.
My spirit is free.
I'm an angel in heaven.
So please don't cry for me.
I was choosen by our lord above and now I am in his care.
When you need me look inside your hart.
I promise to be there.
I am an angel now.
And no longer roam.
So if you can not find your way.
Or the road home seems to far.
Look to the sky I'll be your guiding star.
He saisd Im an angel now.
My spirit is free.
Im an angel in heaven now.
No need to cry for me.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Two Angels
God called the nearest angels who dwell with Him above:
The tenderest one was Pity, the dearest one was Love.
'Arise,' He said, 'my angels! a wail of woe and sin
Steals through the gates of heaven, and saddens all within.
'My harps take up the mournful strain that from a lost world swells,
The smoke of torment clouds the light and blights the asphodels.
'Fly downward to that under world, and on its souls of pain,
Let Love drop smiles like sunshine, and Pity tears like rain!'
Two faces bowed before the Throne, veiled in their golden hair;
Four white wings lessened swiftly down the dark abyss of air.
The way was strange, the flight was long; at last the angels came
Where swung the lost and nether world, red-wrapped in rayless flame.
There Pity, shuddering, wept; but Love, with faith too strong for fear,
Took heart from God's almightiness and smiled a smile of cheer.
And lo! that tear of Pity quenched the flame whereon it fell,
And, with the sunshine of that smile, hope entered into hell!
Two unveiled faces full of joy looked upward to the Throne,
Four white wings folded at the feet of Him who sat thereon!
And deeper than the sound of seas, more soft than falling flake,
Amidst the hush of wing and song the Voice Eternal spake:
'Welcome, my angels! ye have brought a holier joy to heaven;
Henceforth its sweetest song shall be the song of sin forgiven!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They’re Both Very Real
Hell dear friend, is a very real place, one with an eternal destination,
There you’ll never see God’s face, but, from Him, a total separation,
Where you find an absence of Grace, for you rejected His salvation,
That way of minds spiritually abase; darkened souls of every nation.
Heaven friend, is the opposite side, for all who trust in Jesus Christ,
When every soul, although they died, enter with God into eternal life,
For The Lamb of God was crucified, to become for all His Sacrifice,
And “It is Finished” Christ had cried, when for men He paid the price.
The testimony of Jesus’ own voice, is Eternal Life to us God giveth,
So today it becomes our choice, to be made before our last breath,
One to eternally weep, or to rejoice, as we enter eternal life or death,
When we listen to The Spirit’s voice, God gives to us Eternal Breath.
These places are not of man’s design, and both friend, are truly real,
The duration of both, is eternal in time, which is why to men I appeal,
And don’t look to reason or rhyme, on how they both make you feel,
In faith, just believe to step in line, and God can give to you His zeal.
Friend, every eye shall one day see, regardless of what they believe,
In Heaven or Hell, for all of Eternity, is what their belief shall achieve,
Hell is where Satan wants all to be, as souls he continues to deceive,
But Heaven is ours through Calvary, when in Christ we simply believe.
(Copyright ©10/2009)
Strange Bedfellows
The first night that they slept apart
-I think because he had a cough-
He grabbed his pillow from their bed
Mimed a kiss and then was off.
Their separation lingered on
like cancer growing in a womb
Days into weeks turned into years
each spouse in their separate room.
Anniversaries came apace
To the separate cells wherein they dwell
All marveled at “togetherness.”
None could glimpse their private hell
.
No kiss, no glance, no warm embrace
As would ward off a winter’s chills
No passionate heat or casual lust
Not that either needed pills
And then one day he failed to wake
Cool to her touch, she felt his arm
Detachedly she looked upon
Her love, long dead, now gone
She lay down on the bed once shared
And swallowed pills enough and more
To join her fellow in that sleep
They’d share together evermore.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spirit of Poetry, The
There is a quiet spirit in these woods,
That dwells where'er the gentle south-wind blows;
Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade,
The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air,
The leaves above their sunny palms outspread.
With what a tender and impassioned voice
It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought,
When the fast ushering star of morning comes
O'er-riding the gray hills with golden scarf;
Or when the cowled and dusky-sandaled Eve,
In mourning weeds, from out the western gate,
Departs with silent pace! That spirit moves
In the green valley, where the silver brook,
From its full laver, pours the white cascade;
And, babbling low amid the tangled woods,
Slips down through moss-grown stones with endless laughter.
And frequent, on the everlasting hills,
Its feet go forth, when it doth wrap itself
In all the dark embroidery of the storm,
And shouts the stern, strong wind. And here, amid
The silent majesty of these deep woods,
lts presence shall uplift thy thoughts from earth,
As to the sunshine and the pure, bright air
Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted bards
Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades.
For them there was an eloquent voice in all
The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun,
The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way,
Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds,
The swelling upland, where the sidelong sun
Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, goes,
Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in,
Mountain, and shattered cliff, and sunny vale,
The distant lake, fountains, and mighty trees,
In many a lazy syllable, repeating
Their old poetic legends to the wind.
And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill
The world; and, in these wayward days of youth,
My busy fancy oft embodies it,
As a bright image of the light and beauty
That dwell in nature; of the heavenly forms
We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues
That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds
When the sun sets. Within her tender eye
The heaven of April, with its changing light,
And when it wears the blue of May, is hung,
And on her lip the rich, red rose. Her hair
Is like the summer tresses of the trees,
When twilight makes them brown, and on her cheek
Blushes the richness of an autumn sky,
With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath,
It is so like the gentle air of Spring,
As, front the morning's dewy flowers, it comes
Full of their fragrance, that it is a joy
To have it round us, and her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Earlier Poems : The Spirit Of Poetry
There is a quiet spirit in these woods,
That dwells where'er the gentle south-wind blows;
Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade,
The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air,
The leaves above their sunny palms outspread.
With what a tender and impassioned voice
It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought,
When the fast ushering star of morning comes
O'er-riding the gray hills with golden scarf;
Or when the cowled and dusky-sandalled Eve,
In mourning weeds, from out the western gate,
Departs with silent pace! That spirit moves
In the green valley, where the silver brook,
From its full laver, pours the white cascade;
And, babbling low amid the tangled woods,
Slips down through moss-grown stones with endless laughter.
And frequent, on the everlasting hills,
Its feet go forth, when it doth wrap itself
In all the dark embroidery of the storm,
And shouts the stern, strong wind. And here, amid
The silent majesty of these deep woods,
lts presence shall uplift thy thoughts from earth,
As to the sunshine and the pure, bright air
Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted bards
Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades.
For them there was an eloquent voice in all
The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun,
The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way,
Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds,
The swelling upland, where the sidelong sun
Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, goes,
Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in,
Mountain, and shattered cliff, and sunny vale,
The distant lake, fountains, and mighty trees,
In many a lazy syllable, repeating
Their old poetic legends to the wind.
And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill
The world; and, in these wayward days of youth,
My busy fancy oft embodies it,
As a bright image of the light and beauty
That dwell in nature; of the heavenly forms
We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues
That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds
When the sun sets. Within her tender eye
The heaven of April, with its changing light,
And when it wears the blue of May, is hung,
And on her lip the rich, red rose. Her hair
Is like the summer tresses of the trees,
When twilight makes them brown, and on her cheek
Blushes the richness of an autumn sky,
With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath,
It is so like the gentle air of Spring,
As, front the morning's dewy flowers, it comes
Full of their fragrance, that it is a joy
To have it round us, and her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Last Supper
Park gull makes you even more beautyful
As if you were created by gaudi the master himself
caus you consist of shattered thoughts
They never seem to bore even if they to turn you into hell
This last supper makes you even more beautyful
As if you were created by the master himself
caus you consist of imploding energy
Let me save you from your unbearable hell
Hell, hell, hell
From your hell
We cant hide from our destiny
This chain is like an inherited spell
That consumes all my precious energy
That pulls me through where ever you fell
Fell, fell, fell, fell
You just fell
song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eurydice: Listening: A Picture By Burne Jones
I
As sentient as a wedding-bell,
The vibrant air throbs calling her
Whose eager body, earwise curved,
Leans listening at the heart of hell.
She is one nerve of hearing, strained
To love and suffer, hope and fear-
Thus, hearkening for her Love, she waits,
Whom no man's daring heart has gained.
II
Oh, to be sound to such an ear!
Song, carol, vesper, comfort near,
Sweet words, at sweetest, whispered low,
Or dearer silence, happiest so.
By little languages of love
Her finer audience to prove;
A tenderness untried, to fit
To soul and sense so exquisite;
The blessed Orpheus to be
At last, to such Eurydice!
III
I listened in hell! I listened in hell!
Down in the dark I heard your soul
Singing mine out to the holy sun.
Deep in the dark I heard your feet
Ringing the way of Love in hell.
Into the flame you strode and stood.
Out of the flame you bore me well,
As I listened in hell.
IV
I listen in hell! I listen in hell!
Who trod the fire? Where was the scorch?
Clutched, clasped, and saved, what a tale was to tell
-Heaven come down to hell!
Oh, like a spirit you strove for my sake!
Oh, like a man you looked back for your own!
Back, though you loved me heavenly well,
Back, though you lost me. The gods did decree,
And I listen in hell.
poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Internal Bleeding
Rot Alone. Destiny,
killing the souls of lives at your feet.
Dead to its fight.
Hell as they said.
Killing the darkened rotting fate.
Fate. Rot Alone. Bludgeoning hell.
Finding their souls and returning to dwell.
Killing and bleeding tightened as one.
Killing the darkest rotting fate.
Rot all lesions.
Glory. Rotting, plowed.
Dead he's killed your soul.
Glory. Rotting flower.
Kill.
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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