50 Times
5o times i have wailed
as if i have been impaled
now i can see
that its really me
lying on a stick and rope yet this is just a dream a horrid one dang you rope
dirty and devoid of hope
dead with festering wounds and cut
caught in a blood soiled rut
a trench i dug for myself now i lie in it myself
and the trap i laid and put my heart out to shrivel on shelf i now lie in both
o the fey imbroglio namely life so fey
forgive me if i inveigh
in verse and rhyme
but i do such things all the time
more then the fifty deaths imparted unto to me
yes seven, some deaths i accepted happily...
(God saved me from this rut and this living torture and i no longer die a single death nor did i ever actually died i fooled myself)
poem by David Knox
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Related quotes
To Live Beyond The Edge Of Hope
To live beyond the edge of hope
Is to dangle daily from a rope
In a perpetual dance with death itself
Beyond this world and all its wealth
There is a world of blue and green
But to the dark eye its all unseen
A world of orange, red and yellow too
But from the rope its beyond all view
For from the rope there's shades of grey
And sleepless nights and endless days
And every now and then some light
But just enough to confirm the night
There was a time I dangled from this rope
At the edge of hell and beyond all hope
I lived my life, just hanging there
Crushed and broken, suspended in the air
Then Jesus came and cut me down
He raised me up to wear a crown
A pauper raised to walk with kings
A voicless man but now who sings
Of all the glories of the Lord
Who came with Word and deed and sword
And conquered hell and death and sin
Restoring joy and hope within
Now all the world is bright to me
No matter what my eyes can see
No longer dangling from the rope
I walk with Jesus, I walk with hope
And above the clouds I know its true
The sun shines bright and the sky is blue
And when a shaft of light appears
It warms my heart and quells my fears
Now if your dangling from that rope
And this lie cries out, 'there is no hope'
Cry out to the one who can cut you down
He will raise you up and you will wear a crown!
poem by Frank McEleny
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Like The Meat
The untended vines like the African Slaves,
With fifty-two bottles of wine in the hand;
Of a man's livelihood,
Like fifty-two days of summer for his lover.
When will i see you again?
Of fifty-two roasted chickens in a year;
Please, do not kidnap anyone.
Life lis like that,
And the silver trumpet must be sounded;
Like the first tenth of all our increase.
Do not mistreat a stranger,
Because the living knows much than the dead;
Train yourself with words of peace than war.
Do not steat from your neighbour,
Because the dead know nothing!
You should not destroy fruit tree during times of war,
Of a long hair like a rope for peace;
Let your relatives talk about the best things in life.
Of a short hair,
Like the meat of the consecrated offering;
Do your best at all times.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Illusion and ignorance
To mistake a rope for a snake
Or to mistake a snake for a rope
Is illusion in perception.
To take a rope for rope and
A snake for snake is knowledge.
To take a rope not for a rope
And a snake not for a snake
Is ignorance. We employ
All the three at variant times
At different degrees in life.
29.042010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Caught In A Trap
Sometimes you get caught in a trap and you dont know it
Sometimes its better to get out while you know it
Some people never learn they keep on falling
You can never get out if you keep on stalling
Then you get,
(chorus:) caught in a trap caught in dead end
Caught in a trap with nowhere to run
Then you get, caught in a trap caught in dead end
Nowhere to turn but it cant go on
Caught in a trap
Sometimes you got to know where to run for cover
Sometimes your better out till the heat is over
Ah you get (chorus)
Caught in a trap
Dont know how it happened but then its too late
Then you gotta move on the times, you cant wait
Cus you got (chorus)
(chorus)
(chorus)
Caught in a trap
Caught in a trap
Caught in a t
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Young Dead Soldiers Do Not Speak
The young dead soldiers do not speak.
Nevertheless, they are heard in the still houses:
who has not heard them?
They have a silence that speaks for them at night
and when the clock counts.
They say: We were young. We have died.
Remember us.
They say: We have done what we could
but until it is finished it is not done.
They say: We have given our lives but until it is finished
no one can know what our lives gave.
They say: Our deaths are not ours: they are yours,
they will mean what you make them.
They say: Whether our lives and our deaths were for
peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say,
it is you who must say this.
We leave you our deaths. Give them their meaning.
We were young, they say. We have died; remember us.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
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I am lying on the pyre!
I am lying on the pyre
A minute away from the fire
All things ready along with wood
In grudge across the river water increased
The last relative comes late and sees my face
Forget all in grief to cover my chest
Where lay the thousand wounds
For which I died a hundred deaths.
This is my last hope and honor so I cried
Oh cruel! Take away all but keep wounds secret
Respect my last right and please cover my chest!
The fire knows the taste of burning
The salt knows the taste of pinching
I know both as I got burning wounds
Oh clown! Don't shed too much tears
Never ever try to douse the flaming fire
As the fire will end my pain forever
The Water is waiting for me in the river
Strike the stick of the box, I can not wait
Let the wounds burn secretly of my chest
Oh buffoon! This is my last appeal please respect
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Memory of Me: Poetry Revived
Light the night... ah a line that speak of refulgence
like a star shining brightly with effulgence
one caitiff look to end it all
one more time I inveigh and fall
how fey, next to the blood stained hall
has a murder occurred or suicide?
suppression
classic case of depression
fatality and
frailty
so fragile
the pseuedocidephile: the iconoclast
this life how long will it last
classic poem classic rhyme
classic death time
back to old way
how fey
(Wow This is something i am really saved from sometimes what i write scares me because i was do dumb before Christ saved me i am glad this is no longer true)
poem by David Knox
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My Single Orange Rose
Here is my prose,
All based on a single orange rose,
Grave grass springing,
Church hyms their singing,
Blood stains clinging,
On my single orange rose,
No soul is laughing,
Deaths hands are clapping,
Coffin case trapping,
On my single orange rose,
Trees are branching,
My cold blank eyes are trancing,
The life cycle of death is dancing,
On my single orange rose,
I picked my final wish,
On deaths lips I kissed,
My long life I missed,
All because of that single orange rose,
COPYRIGHT 2008 BEN SPARACO POEMS
poem by Ben Sparaco
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When my body arrives at the shore
When the time comes.
And my body washes up on the shore.
Be it not a shock to you please.
I didn't want tohurt you.
When my bloated body arrives at deaths shore.
Washed up and battered I'm dead on the shore.
And have arrived at deaths door.
Yes I was scared kind of.
But I knew it would over and done.
I knew it wouldn't be long to die.
Here lays my body at deaths shore.
I am dead of that you can be sure.
I am sorry of that you are to be sure.
I loved you that's for sure.
I could'nt stay with pains shore.
So Here I am at deaths shore.
I couldn't go on like this.
Here I lay washed up on the shore.
Iam now in deaths door
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Hand Of Doom
Whatcha gonna do?
Times caught up with you
Now you wait your turn
You know theres no return
Take your written rules
You join the other fools
Turn to something new
Now its killing you
First it was the bomb
Vietnam napalm
Disillusioning
You push the needle in
From life you escape
Realitys that way
Colours in your mind
Satisfy your time
Oh you, you know you must be blind
To do something like this
To take the sleep that you dont know
Youre giving death a kiss, oh, little fool now
Your mind is full of pleasure
Your bodys looking ill
To you its shallow leisure
So drop the acid pill,
Dont stop to think now
Youre having a good time baby
But that wont last
Your minds all full of things
Youre living too fast
Go out enjoy yourself
Dont bottle it in
You need someone to help you
To stick the needle in, yeah
Now you know the scene
Your skin starts turning green
Your eyes no longer seeing
Lifes reality
Push the needle in,
Face deaths sickly grin
Holes are in your skin,
Caused by deadly pin
Head starts spinning round
You fall down to the ground
Feel your body heave
Deaths hands starts to weave
Its too late to turn
You dont want to learn
Price of life you cry
Now youre gonna die!
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man and God
Men die; dogs die; flies die; germs die.
They die but duration varies.
News dies, songs die and fashions die.
They die but at different spells.
God makes creatures and their deaths.
God is not sorry for such deaths.
Man made creations and not for their deaths.
Man is nervous for such deaths.
07.06.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jumping Rope
We are jumping rope together
we are jumping rope together
unwinding naughty knots of tether
we are jumping rope together
We are jumping rope together
we are skipping beats together
pouting panting chasing chants
unraveling rigid wraps to sever
We are jumping rope together
we are jumping rope together
jointly jogging jagged breath
suddenly we
sneeze!
poem by Randy Resh
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Hope
I would not deny
That I could not
Dream or swim
But it was in my dream
Slipped in a deep of ditch
My hands were tied
Legs were not working
I was drowning and drowning
From deep to deeper I felt
Suffocated and strangulated,
As I would not be alive, I would
Be dead, this gave me a cry!
I had had a strong desire to be alive!
A gust of energy in the form of help
Entered in me as if it was dragging me
With a help of a rope of hope
To the shore of life, I jerked in joy
I found myself alive and awake
I gave a big thank and a tight hug
To the rope of hope.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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How Many Times
How many times will you rip me apart?
How many times will you crush my soft heart?
How many times will you push me away?
How many times will I have to pay?
How many times will you make my heart cry?
How many times will I have to try?
How many wrongs do I have to make right?
How much strength do I have left to put up the fight?
How much more can I take before I walk away?
How much patience is left to help make me stay?
How many more times will I hear you're alone?
How long to soften you're heart made of stone?
How long before I can have back your heart?
How much longer will it take to have a new start?
How much longer can I hold on to hope?
I am feeling that I'm at the end of my rope.
I will pray once again, that He'll help me fight.
To hold on one more day, and hold on one more night.
Hold on to a love, that she has let go.
In the hope what's now gone, can flourish and grow.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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I'll be knocking at deaths door
I will be knocking on the door
Knock knock knock
Knocking at deaths door
Begging to be let in.
I'm near to deaths door
An overdose
And slit wrists
Along besides me.
Knock knock
Please let me in
deaths door
Please open
Please let me in
I hate my life
I cant cope
I'm desperate
plase let me in
Deaths door has opened
Now I've left it all behind
I'm in deaths world
Im gone
Im free
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Death Is In Love With Us
I know it hurts too much
I know that youre scared
I know youre running out of trust
Wishing you were dead
In your misery
Youre not alone
So come share your tears with me
And witness it all go wrong
I know it and I feel it
Just as well as you do, honey
Its not our fault if deaths in love with us oh oh
Its not our fault if the reaper holds our hearts
41+66.6 = our loss
Were breathing only to fade away
Were running just to get caught
What loves lies blessed
What loves light cursed
Just fear for the best
And hope for our worst
I know it and I feel it
Just as well as you do, honey
Its not our fault if deaths in love with us oh oh
Its not our fault if the reaper holds our hearts
Deaths in love with us oh oh
The reaper holds our hearts oh oh
Deaths in love with us oh oh
And the reaper holds our hearts oh oh
I know it and I feel it
Just as well as you do, honey
Its not our fault if deaths in love with us oh oh
Its not our fault if the reaper holds our hearts
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death' is when 'You' milk 'It
'Death' is when 'You' milk 'It' and milk it, milked
and you drive it, forever and ever,
upward and upward and never down ward, insane.
Death is two silky hands covered in hot burning oil,
that start at the base and death loves to covers each lamp.
While the flame burns inside the brown paper bag exposed.
Pushing death deep without compassion through the pale
full moon, as death walks around, ignoring your cries.
Heaven for death and coming so close to death you find.
Death makes you come over to your friends house once
again, in your mind while those pearls in the bag,
are laid up on the shelf that you share, with deaths pink pig.
Death moves both horns closer, driven unforgiving together,
one here and one there, ever closer, untiring you are laid out as art.
Death knows when the sky is on fire, say it again and again.
Death and truth, death is like an epileptic seizure,
when more than those silky soft hands,
never moved all the way down,
and a river of hot molten 'death' sprays,
in your hair each black day.
Death is as proud..and as proud of you, Death is,
as you splash it around, all about town,
Death and 'Death's' protein mask so tight, you peel it off.
Death was just the tip of the ice burg and death melted it,
with death's thick and full, red buried, unyielding lips.
'You' love to have your fun with death, as you milk it over
and over, the milk never expires, death never tires,
and many,
many are deaths executions from death's weepy milked eye.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Rope The Moon
(jess brown/jim denton)
I dont have a lot to show
For these years of hard work
If you look at what I own
Still shes always telling me
To hold on to my dreams
Even when my hope is gone
Some may say that dreamings just for fools
And there are times I thought that might be true
But she thinks I could rope the moon
In her eyes there is nothing I cant do
When I think its out of reach
Shes the reason I still try
She thinks I could rope the moon
When I look at the sky
But cant see through the clouds
She shows me the brightest stars
If I think of coming back
cause Im having my doubts
She tells me Ive come so far
Nothing in this world comes easily
But I cant lose with her right next to me
cause she thinks I could rope the moon
In her eyes there is nothing I cant do
When I think its out of reach
Shes the reason I still try
She thinks I could rope the moon
Oh she thinks I could rope the moon
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deadline
I see that I am living a dead life
and the daily life
leaves no impression on me,
and before I know I am turned into a stick,
already fossilized
and life passes me
while I do not get involved with anything.
Too many times
I had daily contact with death
and now I die from life
and every day do the same things,
the same work,
and are caught immovable like an idiot.
The same things
I write over and over
of Johnnie loosing Sally,
of love that charms,
or war that still resounds in me
and on our hands
the blood, the damned blood
and I feel at times as if the Lord doesn’t hear.
I try to live right,
to respect others,
to honour the Lord
and my poems stay the same
words of somebody surviving
and I still am able to adore
and what the church prohibits feels so right and true
while life hits me back
past the beginning.
I still feel, weep and laugh
and sometimes sing in the shower
as if nothing
is wrong with life
and I keep dreaming,
set myself to win
and to stay alive
while the deadline
slowly comes nearer to me
where my heart will beat its last stroke
before it will stop eternally.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Tie A Knot, Hang On
Life can bring great challenges,
disappointment and despair.
At times we want to just give up,
from pressures hard to bear.
Life on earth can be beautiful.
We must never give up hope.
Tie a knot, and hang on for dear life,
when you're at the end of your rope.
The rope represents our earth life,
whether happy, sad, or fraught.
Our Savior's great atoning love,
represents the saving knot.
If we will but have faith in Him
when our rope is at it's end,
He'll be the knot that stops our fall,
and helps our lives to mend..
poem by Ron Tranmer
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