They have buried the hatchet, but not before carefully wrapping it up.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody ever forgets where he buried the hatchet.
quote by Kin Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twisted Hatchet Suicide
This Twisted Hatchet Killer
Is gonna make a 'Suicide' thriller
A (fd up) messes up life
She sliced her throat
With a knife
A twisted hatchet suicide
Players pushing all along
Hoping she'd choose
To be the one gone
So she left you a present
For you to feel some pain
All you see is her blood stains
Nothing left
Nothing remains
In this twisted hatchet suicide
You can always read this poem on line
I hope you're doing well
Because 'finally' I'm doing fine
I was a Twisted Hatchet 'Suicide'! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Teresa Duncan
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A hatchet in the mouth is more harmful than a hatchet in the hand.
Carefully
You are free to chose,
that’s why
carefully use every word.
Carefully measure every step,
if you don’t want to be swept.
Carefully do all you’ve conceived.
and…if you want to be believed
and… to achieve your aim
it’s not a shame
to start carefully a new song.
And it doesn’t matter if it is long.
If you carefully do all that
you will never regret.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Learn Something New
O dark man, learn something new,
so that hatchet can be buried by you!
O darkman, love the true meaning of love,
Just not to unnerve others nerve.
Eighteen or twenty eight,
I don't know what will, come and go with it,
without good deed, what's the profit?
Mouth is not the open-manhole,
By which a guy, may rotten his soul.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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What Is That You Say
No longer caught up
Big church wall
Makin' some noise with a pair of drums
Lying your thoughts out over the sky
Spinning around as you gaze at the sun
(What is that you say?)
Why don't you talk to me?
(What don't you talk to me?)
What is that you say?
(What is that you say?)
Wrapping your fingers 'round my neck
I see the grass is still when we made our beds
I see the thin weed boy ride at this edge
I see the holy Jesus and the Pharoah and the Venus
And the ghost of you and me
Gagged and given up for dead
(What is that you say?)
Why don't you talk to me?
(What don't you talk to me?)
What is that you say?
(What is that you say?)
Wrapping your fingers 'round my neck
There's something up there but I
Don't know what the hell it is
There's something up there
As you guessed
Like the sun
(What is that you say?)
Why don't you talk to me?
(What don't you talk to me?)
What is that you say?
(What is that you say?)
Wrapping your fingers 'round my neck
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woes Versus Rues II
One on one, against and with each other
What's a bottle of alcohol?
"Brothers are bound to each other…"
I listened carefully, the smoke lifting
"Because they are bound by blood, "
I listened carefully, remembering everything
"tethered by compulsory empathy."
I listened carefully, the whiskey sweating
"I do not want that..."
I listened carefully, the sweat soldering down
"I want to be your comrade."
I listened carefully, the echoes rupturing painfully
I have never asked:
"What is a comrade? "
poem by Norman Santos
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Wrap your arms
Wrapping your arms around it all, from time to time,
Ain't such a bad thing, when the clouds turn grey.
Making moments last forever, in chaotic turmoil
So
Wrapping your arms around it all, from time to time,
Ain't such a bad thing, when the day turns to night.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Rags
“The buried glaciers make sense as preserved fragments from an ice age millions of years ago. On Earth, such buried glacial ice in Antarctica preserves the record of traces of ancient organisms and past climate history.'
-Their grandchildren, you mean, those ancient organisms,
They, the impersonality of pronouns
A nonchalant passive voice)
Snoopers, übercontrol, but the buried glaciers remain
And glacial ice keeps the traces of ancient history
- lying in the Hellas Basin region of Mars's southern hemisphere
the Moguls of Babylon
as frozen fragments from an ice age millions of years ago
they might symbolize something that one is already aware of
They stretch for dozens of miles from edges of mountains or cliffs,
Not a very clear picture, buried under rock debris, apparently,
Draw the Three of Swords, they learnt how to divert arrows of hate
Under cover of the night
a friendly ghost from friendly fire
“Don´t lose face, hope, don´t foam at the mouth”
Though wise men were said to rage at the dying of the light
And their rage, the empirical fog wrapping us up
our intercepted words. Fossils now,
Of their mountains or cliffs, you can’t tell)
Warning: you could be shot in the face without warning
Or just disgruntled locals tempted to indulge in unrest?
poem by Amparo Perez Arrospide
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The War Game
I am buried by time,
I am buried by love;
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
I am buried by the heat,
I am buried by the cold,
I am buried by the wings of nature!
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
Keep talking it,
Keep saying it,
Keep doing it,
Keep walking it,
Keep dancing it,
Keep swinging it,
Keep climbing it,
Keep trying it,
Keep asking it,
Keep working it,
Keep moving it,
Keep flying it,
Keep acting it,
All in the time frame to be buried;
Like the War Game in Afghanistan.
Buried under the nature of things,
With bombs exploding from left and right;
Like a message from Herat in Afghanistan.
The War Game,
All in a time frame to be buried;
Keep rolling it,
Keep changing it,
Keep trading it,
Keep building it,
Keep covering it,
Keep painting it,
Keep writing it,
Keep blocking it,
Keep cookin it,
Keep posting it,
Keep accepting it,
Keep driving it,
Keep bombing it,
Keep squeezing it,
Like the war game in Afghanistan.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Wrapping It Up
Two papers more,
Two lovers more,
Wrapping it up with the muse of my love;
But the semester-exams are about to start,
So emancipate your mind with the muse of my love!
The rain is about to fall and i am wrapping up my works,
But be ready to learn from my muse because of this weather!
And like the words from your sweet lover,
But the semester exams are about to start.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Spot the Dog
Why do people make you feel invincible?
Just so that they can Destroy you
Everything seems just a waste
I see so much waste
Another Knife, Carefully placed.
People pretend that we're so Humane
As they rip apart each others souls
and hide them in a box
At the back of a dark room
Another Knife, Carefully placed soon.
Life is just a metaphor
For whats known as breaking point
And then it snaps...
As pieces fall all around
Another Life, Carefully placed in the Ground.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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You know, I said I have this problem that I need to more carefully read Akron's text because it's too much, too much fantasy, and so I am busy with other stuff - it's funny, it's nice to hear that someone is studying that carefully and now I know a little bit more about that.
quote by H.R. Giger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Children Look At The Parents
We being so hidden from those who
Have quietly borne and fed us,
How can we answer civilly
Their innocent invitations?
How can we say "we see you
As but-for-God's-grace-ourselves, as
Our caricatures (we yours), with
Time's telescope between us"?
How can we say "you presumed on
The accident of kinship,
Assumed our friendship coatlike,
Not as a badge one fights for"?
How say "and you remembered
The sins of our outlived selves and
Your own forgiveness, buried
The hatchet to slow music;
Shared money but not your secrets;
Will leave as your final legacy
A box double-locked by the spider
Packed with your unsolved problems"?
How say all this without capitals,
Italics, anger or pathos,
To those who have seen from the womb come
Enemies? How not say it?
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
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My Father Buried My Sister........Today
My father buried my sister today
My soul burns red with pain
No longer will I touch her face
Or caress her skin again
My father buried my sister today
God, what have I done wrong
To have her stolen from my arms
When my faith in you was strong
My father buried my sister today
Thank God I have another
I couldn't walk this path alone
Every breath is a struggle
My father buried my sister today
She was just 20
Searing, ripping, tearing ache
My emotions overcome me
To God above, how I pray
These words by her not repeated
My father buried my daughter today
poem by Pritisha Sardesai
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New dawn.
The glory of old legends
Lies buried in the past
The roadside remains unseen
Where dark shadows stay cast.
As the icy winds of fate
Howl sharp throughout the land
Memories are blown away
Like golden grains of sand.
But the farmer carefully
Sows seeds in the new dawn
For the light of tomorrow
Is where new hope is born.
poem by J.A McManus
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Choreographed
No matter what words are spoken,
This turmoil has been carefully arranged.
No matter what plans for peace are discussed,
The game of destruction is the same.
To get those to believe they are under attack...
There has to be a plan created,
To prove that with physical facts.
And they have already done that.
No matter what words are spoken,
This turmoil has been carefully arranged.
And carefully choreographed...
By those who are plotting
To control thought processes
'Delivered' to your brains!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Love For You
you buried something
deep,
in fact deeper than burying
someone
who died nine days ago,
since you want to forget
and forget
this forever, something that
you lost and would want it lost
and not want
to recover
from a distance i look at you
and shed tears for
what you buried
without much pomp of a ceremony
i pity
what cruelty you have to yourself
i bring a flower
for that which was buried and lost
it is something that i always
cherish and
remember with all the gladness of my heart
with all the gentleness of my soul
my love for you
deep in the layers of time
buried
still blooms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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