Sequel..chainsaw..my Despair.
MY SOUL VIEWS MY DESICCATED FRAME
NEVER TO BLOSSOM, SPROUT AND BEAR AGAIN
SUCH A WOUND FROM WHICH I CAN NEVER RECOVER
SOON THE UNDERTAKING AGENTS, MY BODY WILL BE ALL OVER
BREAKING ME DOWN AND RETURNING ME TO THE EARTH
I CAN ONLY HOPE OTHERS WILL GET THE CHANCE TO EXPERIENCE BIRTH
MY LIFE IS ENDED
MY WOUND CAN'T BE MENDED
I'M A DEAD TREE
STILL STANDING FOR ALL TO SEE
I STRUGGLED FOR LIFE IN SPITE OF WHAT THEY DID TO ME
THE FUTURE BODES NO GOOD
WE'LL BE CUT DOWN FOR THE VALUE OF OUR WOOD.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XVIII
HE LAMENTS THAT HIS LOVE IS DEAD
My love is dead, dead and in spite of me,--
Dead while I lived,--while yet my blood was rife
With hope and pleasure and the pride of life.
For my love ended unexpectedly
During the Winter, stricken like a tree
By a night's cold, and frozen to the blood,
Whose leaves fell off and never were renewed
By any promise of the years to be.
And, when the Spring came, and the birds, to mate
Among its branches, lo! they found it bare,
Though all around was Summer in the wood.
Yet they took heart awhile, incredulous
That such a tree should be for ever dead.
``'Tis early yet,'' they cried. ``The Spring is late.
It shall still be as in the days that were.''
But Summer came and went while the tree stood
Bare in the sun like a deserted house.
--Then the birds suddenly despaired and fled.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Desert Flower
Just four or five months
If only you bear with my unsightliness
There, yonder on the frame of this rugged body
I give birth to an amazing flower
That flower with its fleeting prettiness
Will balance your months of tolerance
With utmost ease
The flower will swing at the end of the creeper
With joy you can never get at
My body may gash the fingers that touch me
But within me I bring to life a dainty flower
That turns red just at mere touch
Within, I bear a wondrous beauty
To give shape to an amazing beauty
Beyond your imagination
Your eyes’ thirst for color do I quench
With a handful of good looks
I’ve drawn from my desert inheritance
Flower may wither
But with memories fresh
I make you savor the experience
Of a love eternal, for me
Just four or five months
If only you bear with my unsightliness
There, yonder on the frame of this rugged body
I give birth to an amazing flower
*Original in Telugu by Vinnakota Ravishankar
06 Oct 2010
23.27hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Just Don't Have The Heart
Love had ended
Can't be mended
All along the line
I've been true to you
Even though for some time
I knew we were through
I was feeling
That love had ended
Can't be mended
But i can't bear to see you cry
The feeling's gone
It's been missing too long
But i just don't have the heart
I just don't have the heart to tell you
It's such a shame
That it's ended this way
But i just don't have the heart
I just don't have the heart to tell you
There'll be no goodbyes
There are no words to say
When you realise
That i'm far away
You'll be hurting
Like i've been hurting
The truth was burning
But i just can't say goodbye
The feeling's gone
It's been missing too long
But i just don't have the heart
I just don't have the heart to tell you
It's such a shame
That it's ended this way
But i just don't have the heart
I just don't have the heart to tell you
Ooh but i just don't have the heart
I just don't have the heart to tell you
If i stopped to think about
The good times that we shared
I could fool myself believing
That somehow love, love was still there
Ooh (love, love, love, love, love had ended)
(love, love, love, love, love had ended)
I was feeling
That love had ended
Can't be mended
But i can't bear to see you cry
(repeat chorus)
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nucleus
How can you take away the nucleus
and expect everything outside of it
to stay mended together with strength?
A family is held together by a bandage.
You take away the bandage and you got a wound.
Sometimes a wound can heal on its own
and sometimes it can get infected or never heal.
I've seen it all before, the bandages go away
and then the wound that is left attacks itself.
The skin, the blood, the puss, and all the cells
that were once held together by one bandage
turn on itself and then it all melts as if touched by acid.
I don't think that will happen to our wound.
I think we'll all band together and form a new bandage.
It might not be one person holding it all together,
but it will be all of us coming together
like hospital staff to make sure we don't die of an infection.
poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Dont Have The Heart
Love had ended
Cant be mended
All along the line
Ive been true to you
Even though for some time
I knew we were through
I was feeling
That love had ended
Cant be mended
But I cant bear to see you cry
The feelings gone
Its been missing too long
But I just dont have the heart
I just dont have the heart to tell you
Its such a shame
That its ended this way
But I just dont have the heart
I just dont have the heart to tell you
Therell be no goodbyes
There are no words to say
When you realise
That Im far away
Youll be hurting
Like Ive been hurting
The truth was burning
But I just cant say goodbye
The feelings gone
Its been missing too long
But I just dont have the heart
I just dont have the heart to tell you
Its such a shame
That its ended this way
But I just dont have the heart
I just dont have the heart to tell you
Ooh but I just dont have the heart
I just dont have the heart to tell you
If I stopped to think about
The good times that we shared
I could fool myself believing
That somehow love, love was still there
Ooh (love, love, love, love, love had ended)
(love, love, love, love, love had ended)
I was feeling
That love had ended
Cant be mended
But I cant bear to see you cry
(repeat chorus)
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Soul
My soul is not the coward
that my body seems to be.
For my soul does remember
that my body will be free,
free of all its fears and fright
while passing through this earth,
free to experience once again
a brand new type of birth.
My soul is always patient.
Sometimes my body's not.
For my soul exists forever
while my body's just a dot
in the vastness of experience
that's come and gone for me.
And so patiently I'm learning
to acquire tranquility.
My soul will never leave me
as seasons come and go.
But my body will finally say adieu
to happiness and woe.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No individual soul
Which- the soul or body-
Is the cause of one
To be holy or lowly?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the cause for the king
To down and the traitor to crown?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the seat of genes
That transmits features?
Soul and body are co-born
Ever since when life was born.
At no stage, be birth, embryo,
Zygote or gametes that fuse,
Was the life born for the soul
To enter the body at birth,
And part at death.
Death is no more than
A death of a twig of the tree.
28.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The circle of the return to birth can only remain open, but this is a chance, a sign of life, and a wound.
quote by Jacques Derrida
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Impromptu
Keep away from sharp swords
Don't go near a lovely woman.
A sharp sword too close will wound your hand;
Woman's beauty too close will wound your life!
The danger of the road is not in the distance;
Ten yards is far enough to break a wheel.
The peril of love is not in loving too often;
A single evening can leave its wound in the soul.
poem by Meng Chiao
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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I would vote for the man who's lived life, who's done different occupations, who's been out in the real world and struggled to make a living, struggled to raise a family, struggled with life as it exists. So I'd vote for experience, honest experience.
quote by Oliver Stone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Me
Once a boy named mister me bemoaned a great regret
I've floundered in the misty sea, but can't abide its mystery
I wound up sad, you bet
So onward go and edward ho into the bounding main
Enjoy the show look out below but mind the misty sea
Or end up sad like mister me
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
So take the hand of mister me and mister, make him glad
To swim the mister misty sea and cease the mister mystery
That mister, made him sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
He ended up sad
He ended up sad
He ended up really, really, really sad
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Give Up On Hope
Never give up on hope never give up who knows what tomorrow will bring
Keep on hoping for a happier future for hope is a marvellous thing
Lady luck she may smile on you good things come to those who wait
Who knows in the not distant future you may have cause to celebrate
A first division win in tattslotto or some other unexpected windfall
Life does have it's good and it's hard times and it's good and bad memories to recall
Never give up on hope always keep on hoping your good times for you may be ahead
You cannot hold much hope for the future if hope in you is all but dead
If you succumb to feelings of negativity the universe out there you do tell
That you are happy with the hard life and you accept an earthly hell
Never give up on hope for hope springs eternal the quitter cannot hope to succeed
But if hope in you is ever present it will serve you in your time of need
So never give up on hope tomorrow well may be better and the good times for you may be ahead
You do not have much of a future if hope in you is all but dead.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Abused Child
Childhood itself
Big wound!
Wound covers
Slap of a father,
Bite of a sibling,
Curse of a mother,
and finally treacherous teacher!
My childhood crawled
under serpent-hood!
No joyful moments
Only scars registered in the soul!
Childhood swayed by youth,
Enthusiastic path to new strength,
Childhood mistakes haunted the youth,
Irritable emotion creates wrath!
As there is no ray of hope,
Youth led to astray
Trapped in easy money!
Fighting with peers for livelihood,
Waiting for love at neighbourhood,
Dreaming to become rich,
Struggling inch by inch,
facing crunch after crunch,
Dreams shattered and happiness slashed
Stood on the fate’s pedestal!
Unknown mistake
finally pushed me to jail!
Justice delayed,
Life is under trial
Wounds mounting
Time never heals all injuries
Time intensifies wounds
Wound ….. Wound..
Wound comes round and round
Life has no re- wind!
Life sinks in dark abyss
poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Concept Of The Soul
The candle is shut and the flame is out.
The candle is left and the life has set.
Before shut, the candle must have been lit.
The unlit candle can never be shut.
The being is dead and the life is out.
The body remains lifeless and sparkles.
Does the death mean the exit of the soul?
The soul to exit, when did it enter?
Is it that the soul has entered at birth?
No, the embryo has life before the birth.
Is it that the soul has entered at zygote?
No, the sperm and the ovum have their life.
Hens lay eggs, which turn chicks; they all have life.
No stage is void for the souls to enter.
The souls are the extension of the chicks
And the chicks, the extension of the hens
The child is the offshoot of its parents,
Who in turn are of their parents and so on.
The body and the life have struck to form
A unit when the first life was born.
Death is no more than the death of a shoot.
The death of the shoot is not the death of the tree
Nor is the death of the tree the death of the seeds
Nowhere else is broken the chain of the life.
When one begets the other, the other
Is of matter and life put together.
There are no such things as soul and body
To fuse at birth and depart at death.
Germs multiply by fissions and budding
Plants diversify by seeds and cuttings.
Birds by eggs, mammals by kids, they all spread.
Germs to mankind, the life is an extension.
The soul is a single string that has run
Through all living bodies, alive or dead:
Through germs, reeds and plants, through flies, worms and prawns
Through fish, snakes and birds and through. Cows and man.
Candles and flame are not bodies and soul.
The candle is lit before it is shut.
The body is not lit with the soul
For it to be out at the time of death.
Then what is the aftermath of the death?
Isn’t that the life is soul that went out?
Yes, the life goes, the soul goes, not as a whole.
The extended part of the life/soul dies.
Should the life be the soul, then there must be
Only one soul to have come with the first life.
The whole living kingdom has evolved
From the origin of life by evolution.
The plants imbibe the inorganic salts
And grow and the animals eat the plants.
When plants and animals exhaust themselves
The worms and germs eat them and release salts.
That the soul enters the body is a myth.
That the soul exits the body is a myth.
That the liberated soul reenters
Or is redeemed of rebirth is a myth.
In every birth the soul will protrude
And on each death the protrusion is off..
It is not that there are as many souls
As there are living things born and dead.
The whole universal life is one soul
That travels through the different branches
Of the matter in growth and adoption,
And is off when the branches meet their death.
09.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dead Hope
Hope new born one pleasant morn
Died at even;
Hope dead lives nevermore.
No, not in heaven.
If his shroud were but a cloud
To weep itself away;
Or were he buried underground
To sprout some day!
But dead and gone is dead and gone
Vainly wept upon.
Nought we place above his face
To mark the spot,
But it shows a barren place
In our lot.
Hope has birth no more on earth
Morn or even;
Hope dead lives nevermore,
No, not in heaven.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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A Naked Snake
Tree wound
Earth ground
Hissing and biting
Its own tongue
Its own tail
Changing its skin
Sky flung
House burdened snail
In the traces of the wet curse left
Wrapped in red lace lobster cleft
Creeping the bottom of the original fall
Poisonous curves wound within all
A bit of poison turns into a bit of the cure
Wound within a knot of circles of the sin
Reaching high above the realms of the pure
Curable disease of its own medicine
Bitter taste poisoned blood shivering in mud
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Breaking The Law
There I was completely wasting, out of work and down
All inside its so frustrating as I drift from town to town
Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die
So I might as well begin to put some action in my life
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
So much for the golden future, I cant even start
Ive had every promise broken, theres anger in my heart
You dont know what its like, you dont have a clue
If you did youd find yourselves doing the same thing too
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
You dont know what its like
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fringes of Hope.
Torn as it's edge is, I have sworn always
To apprehend hope. Glazed with eyes blinded
By hurt, hope only can bind up loose frays
And render the future reasonably kind.
Hope sings it's own song loudly, forcibly
Too, for anyone who wants impressions
Of what can heal stress, and looks at causes
For mend. Hope can then yet achieve success.
Unravelling life can damage fringes
Of hope, but never blows totally dry
The freshest outlook. A mind-set unhinged
Without hope can cower in much sighing.
Lean then on strong hope, experience re-birth
Of delight, - quite the best feeling on earth.
Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively, and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole nations fare the worse.