En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Ghost That Wouldn't Lie Still

Once have we bashed him on the head;
Twice have we stabbed him deep;
Thrice have we left him there for dead
And yet he will not sleep;
But rise up from out his grave
To gibber and repine
And generally misbehave
By raving as lost spirits rave:
'Oh, Body-Bodyline!'

We've sneaked on him at dead of night
And bashed his grinning face
And flung him down and rammed him tight
Into his resting place.
We've tied a weight about his neck
And cast him to the brine;
But, lo, next day, he's back on deck,
Like some damp victim of a wreck,
To babble, 'Bodyline!'

We've exorcised him with due rite
Of candle, book and bell;
But back he toddled in the night
His sad tale to re-tell.
His grizly mien, when he appears,
Sends shivers down our spine
And wakes our superstitious fears
What time he blubbers thro' his tears,
'Pity poor Bodyline!'

Alas! he can not die, poor bloke,
And cease from haunting us
Les England, with a single stroke,
Gives him his quietus.
Then at the bleak crossroads shall we,
When ne'er a moon doth shine,
Inter his bones triumphantly
And write above, with savage glee:
'Hic jacet Bodyline.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shallow Grave

When I fall in endless sleep
I hope that I'll be buried deep
Let me be the one that fortune favours
Even good children got shallow graves
Throw another clown to the lions
Throw another Joan on the blaze
Cast me away on the cruel calm ocean
and leave me for days and days and days and days and days
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
I won't lie, I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Bless the poor 'cos like the rich
They all end up in a ditch
In this world of fools and knaves
Even good children got shallow graves
The tinker, the tailor, the fabulous five
Nobody gets out of this alive
Chorus
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down, dig me down, dig me down deep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Martha

SEXTON! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Her weary hands their labor cease;
Good night, poor Martha,-- sleep in peace!
Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha 's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
For many a year has Martha said,
"I'm old and poor,-- would I were dead!"
Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
She'll bring no more, by day or night,
Her basket full of linen white.
Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
'Tis fitting she should lie below
A pure white sheet of drifted snow.
Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Sleep, Martha, sleep, to wake in light,
Where all the robes are stainless white.
Toll the bell!

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shallow Graves

When I fall in endless sleep
I hope that Ill be buried deep
Let me be the one that fortune favours
Even good children got shallow graves
Throw another clown to the lions
Throw another joan on the blaze
Cast me away on the cruel calm ocean
And leave me for days and days and days and days and days
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
I wont lie, I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Bless the poor cos like the rich
They all end up in a ditch
In this world of fools and knaves
Even good children got shallow graves
The tinker, the tailor, the fabulous five
Nobody gets out of this alive
Chorus
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down, dig me down, dig me down deep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Single Candle/Death Herself

A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death

Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead

Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death

Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death

Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?

Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see

Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead

A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death

A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials

A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself

A single candle

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is it hunting you

At dead of night, when the moon is full
it prowls across the moor.
Its fangs are bared, its eyes throb red.
What is it hunting for?

The air is still.Its chilling howls
echo back in time.
Against the moon, its silhouette
sends shivers down your spine.

Its closer now.Dont try to hide,
theirs nothing you can do.
Its on its way and you are doomed
if it is hunting you.

poem by Ryan Obrien
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ceyx And Alcione lV

Poor Alcione was sick with grief and couldn't sleep or eat, which was partly ok because she felt she was getting fat. But the insomnia was tough. Night after night she lay awake, praying. She fasted, lit candles and burned certain leaves that she bought off a witch. In those days they didn't have email or even telephones, which was fine in many ways. The queen of the Gods, Juno, heard her. Unable to bear it any longer (Ceyx being dead) she said to her secretary:

'Iris, this has got to stop. The poor girl. Quick, a dream. Tell her the truth-her husband sleeps with the fishes. And be quick, please.'

'Yes, M'am, ' replied Iris, sulkily. She was young and very pretty and had better things to do with her time than run messages for Juno, but she didn't complain and started off for the house of Alcione with a starfish-shaped dream in her pocketbook.

'Why me, ' she sighed, under her breath, as she left. On the way she stopped in Arizona to pick up Sleep, who having spent the last ten years dozing on his right side, had recently shifted to his left.

That night Alcione had-what else-a dream. She dreamed she was lying on the dark sea floor, the weight of all the waves oppressing her chest. When she woke she spotted Sleep at the foot of the bed. He had taken the shape of her drowned husband. He didn't look so good. Seawater oozed from every pore, like a sponge. Algaes and sea-lilies tangled in his hair. An eel coiled its heavy lenghs around his shoulders and neck. He was completely naked, having shed his clothes when the ship began to sink. He stood in a rapidly growing puddle of brine and when he first opened his mouth to speak, out came a stream of minnows. Her heart was seized with pity and terror. Over her prostrate form he leaned and said:

'My dearest Alcione, my own, I am dead and beyond your unavailing tears. I will never come back. In my triall I thought only of you. The last word of my lips was your name.

With that she knew he was dead. The next day....

poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bohemian Rhapsody

Mama just killed a man, Put a gun against his head,
pulled my trigger, now he's dead.
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and thrown it all away.
Mama, ooh, Didn't mean to make you cry,
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,
carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time.
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.
Mama, ooh, I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango.
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me.
(Galileo.) Galileo. (Galileo.) Galileo, Galileo figaro
Magnifico. I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me.
He's just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from this monstrosity.
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go.
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go.
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go.
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go.
(Let me go.) Will not let you go.
(Let me go.) Will not let you go. (Let me go.) Ah.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
(Oh mama mia, mama mia.) Mama mia, let me go.
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye.
So you think you can love me and leave me to die.
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.
Nothing really matters, Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me.
Any way the wind blows.

song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The City of Sleep

Over the edge of the purple down,
Where the single lamplight gleams,
Know ye the road to the Merciful Town
That is hard by the Sea of Dreams--
Where the poor may lay their wrongs away,
And the sick may forget to weep?
But we--pity us! Oh, pity us!
We wakeful; ah, pity us! --
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!

Weary they turn from the scroll and crown,
Fetter and prayer and plough--
They that go up to the Merciful Town,
For her gates are closing now.
It is their right in the Baths of Night
Body and soul to steep,
But we--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!

Over the edge of the purple down,
Ere the tender dreams begin,
Look--we may look--at the Merciful Town,
But we may not enter in!
Outcasts all, from her guarded wall
Back to our watch we creep:
We--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We that go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dahmer Is Dead

Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead.
A broomstick bashed him upside his head.
Upside the head, upside the head.
Bloody broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Am I supposed to feel outrage?
Am I supposed to feel sorrow?
Jeffery dahmer has no right tommorrow.
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead
A broomstick bashed him upside his head.
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead
Bloody broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Along with a broomstick upside his head.
Along with broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, vocals,
Guy hoffman: drums, vocals
Produced by brian ritchie and gordon gano
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwaukee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission

song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dahmer Is Dead

Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead.
A broomstick bashed him upside his head.
Upside the head, upside the head.
Bloody broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Am I supposed to feel outrage?
Am I supposed to feel sorrow?
Jeffery dahmer has no right tommorrow.
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead
A broomstick bashed him upside his head.
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead
Bloody broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Along with a broomstick upside his head.
Along with broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, vocals,
Guy hoffman: drums, vocals
Produced by brian ritchie and gordon gano
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwaukee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission

song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Does It Go?

As I watch the
Night Sky
I think of you.
The one I grew
Up with,
The one I always
Talked to,
The one I never left.
I watched the sky
On theanniversary
Of you death.
I feel that in times
Nature atunes to
Our emotions.
I watched the
Night sky.
Your death
Was so abrupt
Everyone was
Shocked.
I watch the
Night sky
As all the
Stars cry.
I stand over the
Grave marked as mine.

The sky bleeds
It's crystal
Tears.
Dead in the winter
A death had
Occured,
People cry for
The lost,
They cry for
The pain.
Now they weep
For my soul
For it is lost.
I can't join
The dead for
It wasn't my
Time, but
I can't be
Alive for my
Body is dead.
I'm lost between
Worlds.
I want to
Sleep.
As I stand over the
Grave marked as mine.
The night of the anniversary
Replays every year.

When I return to the
Scene where I wept
Crimson tears
Every night of the anniversary
The story replays,
But no living soul
Can see it.
Wrong conclusions
Drawn by human thoughts
And yet if they could
See what I do,
Then all will be
Explained
As the night of the anniversary
Replays every year.

As I watch the
Night sky
And all the stars
Cry,
As I stand over the
Grave marked as mine,
The night of the anniversary
Replays every year.

I live on.

poem by Sans Serif
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Soldiers Funeral

No splendid show of solemn funeral rite,
No stricken mourners following his bier,
No peal of organ reaching thro' his night,
Is rendered him whom now we bury here.

'Tis but a soldier stricken in the fight,
A youth who flung his passion into life,
Flung scorn at Death, fought true for Freedom's might,
Till Death did close his vision in the strife.

No splendid rite is here-yet lay him low,
Where the sweet brook doth babble by his side.
No splendour, yet we lay him tenderly
To rest, his requiem the artillery.

poem by John William Streets
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Keep Pushing That Bash Back

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

You keep pushing that bash back.
You keep pushing that bash back.
You keep pushing that bash back.
Don't drag that bashing or be tagged.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You can push that bitter bash back.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You can push that bitter bash back.

You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You just keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep on pushing,
That bash back!
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bohemian Rhapsody

Mama just killed a man, put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger, now hes dead.
Mama, life had just begun,
But now Ive gone and thrown it all away.
Mama, ooh, didnt mean to make you cry,
If Im not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, bodys aching all the time.
Goodbye, evrybody, Ive got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.
Mama, ooh, I dont want to die,
I sometimes wish Id never been born at all.

song performed by by Fugees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bohemian Rhapsody

Mama just killed a man, put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger, now hes dead.
Mama, life had just begun,
But now Ive gone and thrown it all away.
Mama, ooh, didnt mean to make you cry,
If Im not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, bodys aching all the time.
Goodbye, evrybody, Ive got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.
Mama, ooh, I dont want to die,
I sometimes wish Id never been born at all.

song performed by by Fugees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tennessee Jed

Cold iron shackles, ball and chain,
Listen to the whistle of the evenin train.
You know you bound to wind up dead,
If you dont head back to tennessee jed.
Rich man step on my poor head,
When you get back you better butter my bread.
Well, do you know its like I said,
You better head back to tennessee jed.
Tennessee, tennessee, there aint no place Id rather be,
Baby wont you carry me back to tennessee.
Drink all day and rock all night,
The law come to get you if you dont walk right
Got a letter this morning, baby all it read,
You better head back to tennessee jed.
I dropped four flights and cracked my spine,
Honey, come quick with the iodine,
Catch a few winks, baby, under the bed
Then you head back to tennessee jed.
Tennessee, tennessee, there aint no place Id rather be,
Baby wont you carry me back to tennessee.
I run into charlie fog,
Blacked my eye and he kicked my dog,
My doggie turned to me and he said,
Lets head back to tennessee jed.
I woke up a feelin mean,
Went down to play the slot machine,
The wheels turned around, and the letters read,
You better head back to tennessee jed.
Tennessee, tennessee, there aint no place Id rather be,
Baby wont you carry me back to tennessee.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Single Sound I Listen To; Patience.

Asphyxiated with filthy airs and warmth.
Not knowing and unable to recognize freshness no longer.
Every single day and night..
Smothered by pungent consisting filth and warmth.
Every single day and night.
Engulfed by the filthy filth surrounding my space between anxiety and worries.
Every single day and night.
Adding up to hopeless believing.
Beliefs in oneself to stay strong to survive.
Every single day and night.
Irony, irony, irony.
Nothing comes nothing goes.
Everything comes, nothing left.
Every single day and night, it attacks.
With such might i didnt possess which i wish i did.
Trying to calm my tears rather than my nerves.
Calming my tears and holding back my nerves.
Holding back my tears and calming my nerves.
Calming those tears and holding back my nerves.
Holding back my tears and calming my nerves down.
Deprived.distort.discontinoushit.
Eve ry single day and night.
Patience rooted deep in my head.
Rooted deep in my brain; patience.
Patience in this brain for this filth i breathe.
Patience in this brain excites this filth and triggers the angst.
Every single day and night.
Wisdom to enrich intelligence.
Wisdom to empower failure of being cheated.
Cheated over the matter of time.
Patience once again present for the time.
Every single day and night.
Distracted by comfort of souls.
Closely souls in my heart and in my eyes.
Converse vivaciously.
Souls that lingers almost 20 hours of my time.
Every single day and night.
Every single day and night.
Every single day of nights' day.
Patience.
Pays off.
Every single time.

poem by NurWilmy Francis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wreck of She

The Wreck of She, could be a ship,
that has been cast upon the shore,
but alas she is not, she's part of the street
a fancy English whore
The Wreck of She, has moved around
from war time trenches.
to Hyde Park benches,
down quite back alleys,
and seaside chalets.
Yet she was always there
when Tom came to call
then off they would go,
and have a ball.
The Wreck of She, was just like a night owl.
Out at dusk, and home at dawn,
with grass on her back,
from the golf course lawn.
The Wreck of She, was past her sell by date,
when she was found
crawling in the gate,
she was dazed and battered
but to her it never mattered,
she had been there before
and she knew the score.
The Wreck of She was just an old cat.
A Queen of the night
who never got laid, on a fireside mat

poem by Sylvia Spencer
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Rhyme & Reason

Oh well oh well so here we stand
But we stand for nothing
My heart calls to me in my sleep
How can i turn to it
'cause i'm all locked up in this
Dark place--
And i do not know i'm as good as dead
My head aches--
Warped and tied up i need to kill this pain
My head won't leave my head alone
And i don't believe it will
Until i'm dead and gone
My head won't leave my head alone
And i don't believe it willl
Until i'm six feet under gound
How long i'm tied up
My mind in knots--
My stomach reels in concern for what i might do or
What i've done
It's got me living in fear
Well i know these voices must
Be my sould i've had my grave
Lying wired and shut and quiet in my grave
Leave me here
Leave it to me to waste here
So young and here i am again
Talking to myself
A tv blares
Oh man
Oh how i wish i didn't smoke
Or drink to reason with my head
But sometimes this thick confusion
Grows utnil i cannot bear it all
Needle to the vein
Needle to the vein
Take this needle from my vein my fiend
I said
In my grave
Lying, lying cold in my grave
The reason--my reason
Take my head off this terror
The fearing won't come back
I can't see my mind's all wiped clean
The needle
Make my great escape
I seem caught in time
My head leaves me behing
Body fall cold
And i have seen heaven

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Pity The Poor Immigrant

I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he wouldve stayed home,
Who uses all his power to do evil
But in the end is always left so alone.
That man whom with his fingers cheats
And who lies with evry breath,
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise, fears his death.
I pity the poor immigrant
Whose strength is spent in vain,
Whose heaven is like ironsides,
Whose tears are like rain,
Who eats but is not satisfied,
Who hears but does not see,
Who falls in love with wealth itself
And turns his back on me.
I pity the poor immigrant
Who tramples through the mud,
Who fills his mouth with laughing
And who builds his town with blood,
Whose visions in the final end
Must shatter like the glass.
I pity the poor immigrant
When his gladness comes to pass.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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