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My Skeleton, My Rival

Interesting that I have to live with my skeleton.
It stands, prepared to emerge, and I carry it
with me—this other thing I will become at death,
and yet it keeps me erect and limber in my walk,
my rival.

What will the living see of me
if they should open my grave but my bones
that will stare at them through hollow sockets
and bared teeth.

I write this to warn my friends
not to be shocked at my changed attitude
toward them, but to be aware
that I have it in me to be someone
other than I am, and I write to ask forgiveness
that death is not wholesome for friendships,
that bones do not talk, have no quarrel with me,
do not even know I exist.

A machine called skeleton will take my place
in the minds of others when I am dead
among the living, and that machine
will make it obvious that I have died
to be identified by bones
that have no speech, no thought, no mind
to speak of having let themselves be carried
once around in me, as at my service
at the podium or as I lay beside my love
or when I held my child at birth
or embraced a friend or shook a critic's hand
or held a pen to sign a check or book
or wrote a farewell letter to a love
or held my penis at the bowl
or lay my hand upon my face at the mirror
and approved of it.

There is Ignatow, it will be said,
looking down inside the open grave.
I'll be somewhere in my poems, I think,
to be mistaken for my bones, but There's Ignatow
will be said. I say to those who persist,
just read what I have written.
I'll be there, held together by another kind
of structure, of thought and imagery,
mind and matter, love and longing, tensions
opposite, such as the skeleton requires
to stand upright, to move with speed,
to sit with confidence, my friend the skeleton
and I its friend, shielding it from harm.

poem by David Ignatow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Skeleton Dance

The moon is on the graveyard,
The night is cool and still,
The wind blows gently,
Yes it blows where it will,
And the slightest sound,
From a place that's unknown,
Come do the skeleton dance,
And rattle my bones.

Do the skeleton dance
Jingle jangle bones,
Do the skeleton dance
All the way back home,
Do the skeleton dance
When you're all alone,
Do the skeleton dance
When you're done with your bones.

See the eyes of a werewolf,
Staring back at you,
A dozen or two skeletons,
Make up the rest of the crew,
The zombies stumble around,
Looking for their brains,
Ghost float like a mist,
And its about to rain.

Do the skeleton dance
Jingle jangle bones,
Do the skeleton dance
All the way back home,
Do the skeleton dance
When you're all alone,
Do the skeleton dance
When you're done with your bones.

The devil takes off his skin,
And plays the xylophone,
God plays the piano,
On a stool made of bone,
Jesus lights a lantern,
Buddha counts to three,
They all form a circle,
To do the skeleton dance with me.

poem by Blaine McCanless
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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i Saw a Woman

i saw a woman
Dancing on her grave
She smiled and sang
La la lee
La la lo
La la lee
La la lo

She picked up Death's cat
By tail & twirled the thing
La la lee
La la lo

Death watched curriously
How this thing could be
La la lee
He scratched his head
La la lo

The woman looked back at Death
And flipped him off
Her skeleton bones
Were white as snow
Now her dance
Was beginning to slow

Death thought now
Was her time to go

Instead
She skinned the cat
And made a dress
Put it on
And picked up her song
La la lee

Death's eyes popped out
At what he saw next
The woman's bones
Grew new flesh

Her hair combed and tapered in curls
Death ran at her with fury
But tripped along
An old tomebstone
La la lo

Death on the ground
She picked up her dance
And danced on Death

Bone by bone
She trampled him in the ground

The last thing he saw
Was the woman's child
And he sang and danced
La la lee
Along with a whole
Party of bones
La la lo

poem by Deci Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tom Paine

An Englishman was Thomas Paine
Who bled for liberty;
But while his fight was far from vain
He died in poverty:
Though some are of the sober thinking
'Twas due to drinking.

Yet this is what appeals to me:
Cobbet, a friend, loved him so well
He sailed across the surly sea
To raw and rigid New Rochelle:
With none to say: 'Take him not from us!'
He raped the grave of Thomas.

And in his library he set
These bones so woe-begone;
I have no doubt his eyes were wet
To scan that skeleton.
That grinning skull from which in season
Emerged the Age of Reason.

Then Cobbet in his turn lay dead,
And auctioneering tones
Over his chattels rudely said:
'Who wants them bloody bones?'
None did, so they were scattered far
And God knows where they are.

A friend of Franklin and of Pitt
He lived a stormy span;
The flame of liberty he lit
And rang the Rights of Man.
Yet pilgrims from Vermont and Maine
In hero worship seek in vain
The bones of Thomas Paine.

poem by Robert William Service
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Skeleton Man

Im a skeleton Im a skeleton man
Hold my skeleton hold my skeleton hand
I met a child in the hills from the people of the corn
Its been 800 years since this child was born
And in his ribs I found a pearl
An offering from the corn world
Hold my hand
Well walk in the hot sun
Hold my hand
In the hot sand
Down in the valley where there used to be the farms
Doctor digger found a room full of arms
And now theres just a dog that barks
Chained to a one-man trailer park

song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Skeleton Steps Out

Poor skeleton steps out,
Dressed up in bad blood,
Bad brains, bad thoughts, and others deeds.
Poor skeleton no doubt,
One of these days,
You can cast aside your human, be free.
When the cities run with blood,
And you drink our health in mud,
All flesh be gone.
Save your dry and joyous shout,
For the day poor skeleton steps out.
Poor skeleton steps out,
Sprung from his life sentence,
Deep inside some muscle mask.
Poor skeleton devout,
Propping up truck drivers,
Filmstars, thieves or queens, your brave task.
When technology is rust,
And you write your book in dust,
All flesh be gone.
Cant buy tickets from a tout,
For the day poor skeleton steps out.
Poor skeleton steps out,
Liberated from sex organs,
And brown, black, white skin.
Poor skeleton you lout,
Dont you think that we might,
Like to have been asked to join in?
For good skeletons are we,
And were dying to be free,
All flesh be gone.
I will scream or sulk and pout,
Until my poor skeleton steps out.
Better watch out, here comes bony boy.

song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skin

Underneath my skin, is another skin

Underneath my bones some other bones

In which you have walked

And still walk

Underneath this tree grows another tree

In which you have grown

In which your roots have sewn

These shoots that rise up

Carry me nearer to you

I walk into your past

Breathe inside of your days

And your heart holds mine

Each beat

A sign that you are still living

Underneath these stones

Are your living stones

That will not die

I walk into your past

And live always in your presence

I carry you under my skin

Shaped by the dust of your bone

Born from the seed of your love

Carried on the wind

I carry you under my skin

Into the skin of another

Into the flesh and the blood of a lover

And you will live on

In the root of the tree

In the fruit of the flower

On and on

Held in the heart on another

I carry you under my skin

And always you are here, with me

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fury Of Beautiful Bones

Sing me a thrush, bone.
Sing me a nest of cup and pestle.
Sing me a sweetbread fr an old grandfather.
Sing me a foot and a doorknob, for you are my love.
Oh sing, bone bag man, sing.
Your head is what I remember that August
you were in love with another woman but
that didn't matter. I was the guy of your
bones, your fingers long and nubby, your
forehead a beacon, bare as marble and I worried
you like an odor because you had not quite forgotten,
bone bag man, garlic in the North End,
the book you dedicated, naked as a fish,
naked as someone drowning into his own mouth.
I wonder, Mr. Bone man, what you're thinking
of your fury now, gone sour as a sinking whale,
crawling up the alphabet on her own bones.
Am I in your ear still singing songs in the rain,
me of the death rattle, me of the magnolias,
me of the sawdust tavern at the city's edge.
Women have lovely bones, arms, neck, thigh
and I admire them also, but your bones
supersede loveliness. They are the tough
ones that get broken and reset. I just can't
answer for you, only for your bones,
round rulers, round nudgers, round poles,
numb nubkins, the sword of sugar.
I feel the skull, Mr. Skeleton, living its
own life in its own skin.

poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Skeleton Butterfly

A skeleton butterfly, Kisses my cheek,
A kiss so beautiful...so gentle....so sweet,
It floats around the air, where death has been,
Always following me, for death has always been to close to touch,
Its beautiful bones, and wings of Crimson embers, Is left as a reminder that death Lives within us all,
he'll pay you a visit the cost is small,
This beautiful creature of death, left to ponder the living,
Lost in the sarrows of humans Frightened be fear,
It clings to me for life has more meaning when Death visits and leaves,
Lost in the devils eternity,
A butterfly stays with those touched by death, forever there friend,
when the world has left.

poem by Crimson Love
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I stared into death eyes

i woke up this morning and
i stared into Death eyes.

Death was amazing
he was wearing his black hoodie
and his skeleton bones were red.

Death held up a picture of you
and a picture of me.
i stared into Death eyes.

Death stuck the pictures together
and made them become one.
oh, how i stared into Death eyes.

Death did something to me
he stuck his hand out
i grabbed it and we took a walk.

it was a walk in the park
and then i seen you and there was me
we were married, you wonder how i know,
because i had the prettiest rock on my finger.

we were sitting on a bench
watching 3 little kids
playing on the playground
but then i look closely.

the little girl had eyes like mine
the complextion like mine and ears like you
the boys were twins and they looked exactly like you.

then i thought about it
those are our kids
then i stared into Death eyes.

i ask Death is this reality
Death stops me from breathing
and say suicide is not the answer.

i began to feel wozzy
as if Death was taking all my sins
and all my pain away and repeats
his self 3 times.

suicide is not the answer
suicide is not the answer
suicide is not the answer

and then i wake up
realizing that it was just a dream
a dream indeed.

now i know what it feels like
to stare into the eyes of Death.

now i know that my time wasnt
supposed to end back then,
my time ends with you.

-La'Veranique
*aka* dat girl nickey

poem by Nickey Mason
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In This Town

In this town, we gather around
We give praise to the hollow crown
Flesh will burn, bones will crumble
Dead bodies turn, spirits rumble
Blood soaked eyes, every child scream
Gritty choked demise, wild schemes

In this grave, we play around
We give praise to the skeleton clown
Decayed limbs, puppet walk about
Faded whims, inhuman eyes gawk
Soil mixed with fear, we arise
Oil smeared with cheer, we supplies

In this hell, we howl around
We give praise to the ghost town
Ghouls and alike, little girls scream
Schools of fright, the world we deem
Give praise to the skeleton crown
Around this ghostly town

poem by Avery Watts
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Through Your Eyes

I know a place where we can run away and be free
Just the two of us together holding hands whenever we please
Never thought that love could be so kind until you came along and changed my mind
If words alone could explain the way I feel for you
Then I would write a song, tell the world how much I do
Those time you held me close and made me realize
That Im living my life through your eyes
They day that we could be lovers if we fail
When do the stories stop and the privacy begins
Never thought that love could be so kind
Until you came along and changed my mind
If words alone could explain the way I feel for you
Then I would write a song, tell the world how much I do
Those time you held me close and made me realize
That Im living my life through your eyes

song performed by by Youngstown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode to Her

Ode to Her

The white bones
of my father
are so white,
as though they come
from the white sands of Santa Fe
And why do I think of him?
Because I am old
and can only think of the past
with Matisse, O'Keeffe, Modi-
gliani,
the West bank, the Left Bank -
Did you ever get there?

But do not write in sorrow,
Do not write on the dead
they do not exist
they will not exist

with one foot in the grave
which will not touch me
because I live in spite
of my wishes

this is not love but jealousy
jealousy from the limbic system
bottle it
sell it
it tastes so bitter
I can sleep on it
the old bones
don't let me move

poem by Fred Babbin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Or Alive

There in the shadows, looks like a hand
Without its owner, to give it a command
Its got a purpose but I dont know what it is
Im in trouble
There in the streets, looks like a man
But something wrong that I dont understand
His eyes are open but he dont see a thing
His skin is peeling off, his bones are sticking out
Im getting scared
Oh my God (is it dead? )
Is it living? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
(is it dead? ), is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
Hiding in the cupboards, like little mice
Hiding in the frigerator, that isnt nice
Its not an animal, it dont have legs
No one else can see it
It moves so fast, corner of my eye
Look again its gone, its hiding
Wont somebody help me, doesnt anybody care?
It waits so patiently, for me to lose my guard
Im getting scared
Is it dead, is it
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead or alive
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead, is it
I remember there was a time
When dead and buried meant just that
Underneath the cold dark ground
Things stay put!
Oh them bones they make them bodies walk
Them bones, them bones
If they could only talk!
Is it dead (fade)

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Check My Machine

(Spoken) Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones
But Names Will Never Hurt Me
Check My Machine
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
Check My Machine
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
(Repeat) -
I Got A Woman A Long Time Ago
I Had Trouble
I Want You To See What You Can See
Check My Machine
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
Check My Machine
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
(Ad Lib)
I Want You To Check Check Check Check Check My Machine Check Check Check Check Check My
Machine
(Ad Lib)
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
(Repeat)

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Returning From A Mountain Retreat And Finding You Not There

The old valley at Machayeng! So
Full of the bones of the warriors
Of our forefathers who in death
Trouble not the living.I wish people
Would respect the dead and it's wrong
To turn the graves of the dead into
Places of worship for the living
My friend! I challenge you to visit
The caves at Meqheleng! They are majestic!
The rock formations are intricate man!
I never in my life thought that nature
Could be so soothing to the soul
And it's sad and I am back in the sad
House.And I thought it was a sad empty
Threat you were making.And it has happened
And you have gone.And three sad years have
Passed and I have even forgotten in my
Sadness what it's like to make love
To a woman.But sad seasons come to pass
And sad men too pass away.And they live
Their sorrows behind for their sons
To inherit.No man in his right mind must
Tell his son to have male children
Better to have a daughter and have less
Troubles.I know my own sons each one of
The three of them died a violent death

poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Heel On The Shovel

Im diggin you a shallow grave
An to the sun your face Ill raise
Im diggin you a shallow grave
One hundred buzzards buzzin
I seen death hangin from the tallest tree
Eyes closed no lookin back at me
Ye they came an took him in the night
The one who kissed em was greed
O everyone will see
An everyone will know
Boy you reap what you sow
Im diggin you a shallow grave
An on your rotten bones Ill raise
Yellow daisies
For my true loves hair
One hundred buzzards buzzin
I see death runnin from his majesty
O lord where is the fear in me
In between your praying hands
You hold the skeleton key

song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heel On A Shovel

i'm diggin' you a shallow grave
an to the sun your face i'll raise
i'm diggin' you a shallow grave
one hundred buzzards buzzin'
i seen death hangin' from the tallest tree
eyes closed no lookin' back at me
ye they came an took him in the night
the one who kissed em was greed
o everyone will see
an everyone will know
boy you reap what you sow
i'm diggin' you a shallow grave
an on your rotten bones i'll raise
yellow daisies
for my true loves hair
one hundred buzzards buzzin'
i see death runnin' from his majesty
o lord where is the fear in me
in between your praying hands
you hold the skeleton key

song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You will love, the dead.

A friend I loved
a friend I wanted
a friend I needed
a friend I adored
but she never believed

a friend I respected most
a friend I cared most
a friend I believed most
a friend I trusted most
a friend I wrote to most
she is now the one I ignore most.

a friend I most thought about
a friend I wished for the best.
I will always never know the best
a friend whio turned to be the beast
in all my love like a predator in forest

I was harmless to her like a dove
I wish I could live as brave as a lion
the girl I gave a valentine day to run.
See she is furious on me like eagle.
She is as crue as death, to my life
she is fierce to me as a grave
all I know, if you come back
you hate me, only you will love me
when Iam dead,

poem by Samweli Butobi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poems I've Considered Writing..All Thanks to You..

It seems I'm writing more
Than I have for quite some time..
It's not always good writing
Sometimes It's just a matter of getting out my emotions on paper
Though they say you shouldn't put everything on paper
But,
That wouldn't make me much of a writer then, would it..
I don't do it on purpose..
To be honest,
I can't really help it..
And,
When I contemplate some of the poems I've thought of writing
Since our acquaintance
Well,
Some of the following titles spring to mind..
'This should be interesting'
'I wonder how I'll ever get on in this place'
'I hope I make a good enough impression'
But, then, that's not specific to you, is it..
I'm always worried about making a good impression, doing a good job, working on bettering me...worried about what others may or may not think
I'm not in competition with anyone but myself and sometimes I think that's
Tougher than competing with someone else..
'Ummmm...I don't know what to think'
'Someone thinks highly of themselves'
This would have been about you by the way..
I guess first impressions aren't always accurate
'I think I can trust you'
'Maybe I've made a friend'
'Why did that feel like a date'
'What's wrong with me'
'Something to look forward to'
'Saying Goodbye'
'Hello Again'
'I like having you as my friend'
'Someone to talk to'
'That's...Not..What..! ! ! '
Because sometimes I feel like I can read your mind..
And,
It's not always on it's best behavior, is it..
I hope that doesn't change... it makes me smile.
'I Have to Admit, You're Kind-a Sweet'
'Nooooo! ! ! '
This would have been a funny poem..As would,
'Do you mean what you say, when you say what you say'
But, then.. I think..
'Maybe it's all in my head'
Let's face it.. I am known to think too much, too often, all the time...
It's a minor glitch with my mind...
Then, there was the minor incident where..
'Being Forced to Face That I'm Feeling....Something'
But, that's just hard for me to do..so,
'Bury it, Pretend it Doesn't Exist'
Or
'We Aren't Going to Talk About the Elephant in the Room'
Were poems that were quite appropriate to write..
I didn't write them..
Well, not quite that way..
Some others would have been,
'Uneasy with My Feelings'
'I Wonder What You Really Think of Me'
'Too Bad I Can't Read Minds'
'I'd love to know what your first impression of me was...does it still hold true'
I don't know if you have read my work..
I sometimes think it's you..
But, I figure there's no way for me to know
Unless you give me a clue..
And, maybe you have
But, subtleties are lost on me
Especially when it comes to you..
So I write..
Or contemplate writing poems..
With funny titles
Titles that don't always mean what they say
Or say how I feel
Or are specific to you...
Because writers write..
It's what they do
But, sometimes
My Poems
Might be
Just for you...

poem by Rabia Minhas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Held Up With Just A Stick

Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.

Held up with just a stick,
It seems...
Held up with just a stick,
One's head...
Held up with just a stick,
Their arms and their legs...
Needing to be fed.

And...
Held up with just a stick,
One's pride...
Held up with just a stick,
Two eyes and two ears...
Living poverty so near,
To...
Famish it is clear.

And...
Held up with just a stick,
Hunger.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.

Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.

Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.

Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And living this is NOT a gift.

Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.

Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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