From The Nightmare Shaken
Here walking amongst the ruins of heavens citadel
I can sense the movements of the past disturbing meditation
Echo's - reverberations from another plain.
From some small world dissolving
Time makes fools of us all.
From the nightmare shaken
How am I to awaken within myself acceptance of the silence that hangs so heavy a shroud
Of death upon the chariot of the sun?
A sacrifice required?
Who shall be first fed, slain for the thirst of the dead.
poem by David Lacey
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Related quotes
Shaken Awake From A Deep Sleep
when falling sands have fallen all
sands of death wait to claim us all
even so we pass as course is plotted
we live we grow we dance then dead
yet that which was dead God can awaken
resurrection awaits from dead all are shaken
wherever you may fall you life is finally taken
angels will journey there Christ will come awaken
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Death of Silence
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When even the soundless creature
Leave an echo
When the quiet evening sky
Speaks more volume
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the darkness of night
Is calmed by the song of stars
When this cruel and frightening world
Is cheered by the joy of life
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the trees swaying their branches
Whispering the news from afar
When the stone awaken to tell the story
And no more secret remains hidden
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the wind fills the void
And noises the ears
When the sunshine touches the skin
And screams in eyes
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When you could taste the heart
Inside the food you eat
When you could understand
The meaning the breath that taken
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When smile is enough
To erase the rotten doubt
When love is abundant
To wash the bitter pain
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the soul finds its freedom
And not chained in the grief of body
When the call is passing
Through the memory and time
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Flight to reality
The jet turns over the ocean
and a lonely gull,
flies past the wing.
Picturistic Cape Town is fading
while we fly,
through a sapphire blue sky.
Inland a summer thunderstorm
hangs heavy with dark black clouds,
like the feeling in my heart.
Death comes at its own time and place
and when I depart from the plane
it’s like walking into
another sad world,
where I would never see
my grandmother’s smile again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Silence Of The Damned
Can your hear the silence.
something isn't right.
dead is the night.
who turn out the lights.
then they converge upon me like vulture.
a breeze of wind blows and
bring the chills right down to my very bones.
I know I'm done for but don't even care
cause its not my nightmare but yours.
twisted and turned. living on dead memories.
eating upon them so slowly.
Can you hear the silence.
something isn't right. dead is the night.
Who turned off the lights.
who is it this time.
again they converge.
but this isn't my nightmare.
its yours. watch in despair.
suck in your last bit of air.
no life left for me.
giving up and letting the leeches feed.
for everyone has their needs.
everyone needs to bleed.
and this time its you destiny.
Can you hear the silence.
something isn't right.
dead is the night.
who turned of the light.
who is it this time.
just remember this is not my nightmare but your.
you open the door welcome them in.
so now you must try to fend hyenas off if you can.
if not welcome to the damned.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Song VI: Cherish Life that Abideth
Love is enough: cherish life that abideth,
Lest ye die ere ye know him, and curse and misname him;
For who knows in what ruin of all hope he hideth,
On what wings of the terror of darkness he rideth?
And what is the joy of man's life that ye blame him
For his bliss grown a sword, and his rest grown a fire?
Ye who tremble for death, or the death of desire,
Pass about the cold winter-tide garden and ponder
On the rose in his glory amidst of June's fire,
On the languor of noontide that gathered the thunder,
On the morn and its freshness, the eve and its wonder:
Ye may make it no more--shall Spring come to awaken?
Live on, for Love liveth, and earth shall be shaken
By the wind of his wings on the triumphing morning,
When the dead, and their deeds that die not shall awaken,
And the world's tale shall sound in your trumpet of warning,
And the sun smite the banner called Scorn of the Scorning,
And dead pain ye shall trample, dead fruitless desire,
As ye wend to pluck out the new world from the fire.
poem by William Morris
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Love and Hatred
Love is not so heavy as hatred,
Love is gentle and soothing,
While hatred is rude and disturbing,
Love is an attribute of God,
While hatred is the quality of devil,
Love makes,
Hatred mars,
Love teaches how to live,
Hatred is tired of life,
Love is soft as gentle rain,
Hatred is hard as drought,
Love is deep like an ocean,
Hatred is shallow without commotion,
Love makes sacrifice,
Hatred escapes sacrifice,
Love is everlasting,
Hatred is transcient,
Love releases fragrance,
While hatred stinks,
Love relies on heart,
Hatred relies on mind,
Love loses,
Hatred gains,
In a nutshell,
Love is life,
Hatred is death,
So let's spread love.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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The Plain
I was alone with a chair on a plain
Which lost itself in an empty horizon.
The plain was flawlessly paved.
Nothing, absolutely nothing but the chair and I
were there.
The sky was forever blue,
No sun gave life to it.
An inscrutable, insensible light
illuminated the infinite plain.
To me this eternal day seemed to be projected --
artificially-- from a different sphere.
I was never sleepy nor hungry nor thirsty,
never hot nor cold.
Time was only an abstruse ghost
since nothing happened or changed.
In me Time still lived a little
This, mainly, thanks to the chair.
Because of my occupation with it
I did not completely
lose my sense of the past.
Now and then I'd hitch myself, as if I were a horse, to the chair
and trot around with it,
sometimes in circles,
and sometimes straight ahead.
I assume that I succeeded.
Whether I really succeeded I do not know
Since there was nothing in space
By which I could have checked my movements.
As I sat on the chair I pondered sadly, but not desperately,
Why the core of the world exuded such black light.
Eternal Silence
Silence
Silence when we are walking,
Silence when we think,
Silence is what fills us all,
With a binding eternal link.
Silence in the little children,
Silence in the adults,
Silence wrapping around us all,
Silence pulsing in the walls.
Silence fills this hollow world,
Silence is the choice we make,
Silence is the death of this all,
Silence is our fate.
poem by Okami Kamikaze
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Which Medications Are They On?
It's hard for me to determine,
Which ones I should follow.
Since which fools from the choice of fools,
Should I choose with a guessing...
Are those less foolish?
Or is it in my best interest,
To refuse the picking of any fool...
With the hope the doing of it,
Will awaken me to realize...
This has been too real of a nightmare!
And soon I will be snapped back into reality.
Because this insanity I just can not accept.
And many are pretending they notice nothing at all.
Which medications are they on?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Since I Have Felt The Sense Of Death
Since I have felt the sense of death,
Since I have borne its dread, its fear—
Oh, how my life has grown more dear
Since I have felt the sense of death!
Sorrows are good, and cares are small,
Since I have known the loss of all.
Since I have felt the sense of death,
And death forever at my side—
Oh, how the world has opened wide
Since I have felt the sense of death!
My hours are jewels that I spend,
For I have seen the hours end.
Since I have felt the sense of death,
Since I have looked on that black night—
My inmost brain is fierce with light
Since I have felt the sense of death.
O dark, that made my eyes to see!
O death, that gave my life to me!
poem by Helen Hoyt
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More Me
I am what they call plain pretty,
an in-betweener
not really pretty
not really plain
and I attract guys
who see me as a compromise
from what they really what-
the cheer leader blond
with the hot bod.
I am the bland personality
with pretty eyes
a weak chin;
cautious
with an intense gaze
reflecting my need
to have more that what I am ever offered
by guys who are plain-pretty too
or too too nice and have the slow
uptake of the often rejected.
My world offers me only the boring.
I could do something I suppose
but I missed the ring;
I was the also ran,
the next to the last chosen
the bridesmaid;
the sidekick;
the not-as-pretty friend
and what I did was to break
free of my old world
and soar
with plastic surgery.
Last year I took the knife and now I am strangely pretty
but I still know who I am inside
and that is disturbing;
and more disturbing is that I want to
reject the guys seeking pretty
for the times the rejected me as almost pretty
and that makes me feel pretty-strange;
angry and not lovable;
not an airhead now-
but the trophy.
I thought last night
how many almost-pretty
might have been easier
and more me.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Of De Witt Williams On His Way To Lincoln Cemetery
He was born in Alabama.
He was bred in Illinois.
He was nothing but a
Plain black boy.
Swing low swing low sweet sweet chariot.
Nothing but a plain black boy.
Drive him past the Pool Hall.
Drive him past the Show.
Blind within his casket,
But maybe he will know.
Down through Forty-seventh Street:
Underneath the L,
And Northwest Corner, Prairie,
That he loved so well.
Don’t forget the Dance Halls—
Warwick and Savoy,
Where he picked his women, where
He drank his liquid joy.
Born in Alabama.
Bred in Illinois.
He was nothing but a
Plain black boy.
Swing low swing low sweet sweet chariot.
Nothing but a plain black boy.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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Mans Road
Written by jimmy webb, 1982
Found on the last unicorn soundtrack and your move (french import only).
Horizon rising up to meet the purple dawn
Dust demon screaming, bring an eagle to lead me on
For in my heart I carry such a heavy load
Here I am on mans road, walking mans road, walking mans road
Im hungry, weary, but I cannot lay me down
The rain comes, dreary, but theres no shelter I have found
It will be a long time till I find my abode
Here I am on mans road, walking mans road
Moon rising, disguising lonely streets in gay displays
The stars fade, the night shade falls and makes the world afraid
It waits in silence for the sky to explode
Here I am on mans road, walking mans road, walking mans road
Walking mans road, walking mans road, walking mans road
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Darfur - A Mouthful Of Silence
Darfur – Mouthful of Silence
Darfur hangs under clouds so dark and dense
The world helplessly watching makes no sense
The people there are scared and at their wits end
Murder, rape, robbery, mayhem, knows no end
As the world gives a well intentioned call
There are no results to stop this mad ball
While Darfur reels in a saga of violence
Why the world shows its 'mouthful of silence”?
If we do not act to break this hell on earth
If we do not break our “seeming” silence
If we do not rise now above our own selfish call
The Darfur like violence will one day, engulf us all
poem by Arvind Chandak
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What Is It Faithfully That You Do?
If you are not that one to awaken,
With affirmations to confirm in meditation done...
A life you would like to live,
Free of negativity that you would like to leave,
Since you claim for you this is not welcomed.
Have you started with a discipline,
On a daily basis that anyone can begin....
To open your mind and clear it from decline.
What is it faithfully that you do?
With a choice you choose?
Besides complain with regularity.
And a decision to be abused,
By an attraction to negative thoughts,
Only you give attention without this mentioned.
As you refuse to release as you awaken from sleep,
To let go with a determination to free yourself.
What is it that you wish to prove you can show?
An attachment that enhances your acceptance?
To who and to what?
And why?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Having Lost My Sons, I Confront the Wreckage of the Moon: Christmas, 1960
After dark
Near the South Dakota border,
The moon is out hunting, everywhere,
Delivering fire,
And walking down hallways
Of a diamond.
Behind a tree,
It ights on the ruins
Of a white city
Frost, frost.
Where are they gone
Who lived there?
Bundled away under wings
And dark faces.
I am sick
Of it, and I go on
Living, alone, alone,
Past the charred silos, past the hidden graves
Of Chippewas and Norwegians.
This cold winter
Moon spills the inhuman fire
Of jewels
Into my hands.
Dead riches, dead hands, the moon
Darkens,
And I am lost in the beautiful white ruins
Of America.
poem by James Arlington Wright
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To Soar
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
giving way to the blackness around
to soar among the heaves
wind rushing past
the uncertainty of tomorrow t
he wisdom of yesterday
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
through the galaxies
small spots of color appear
helping peace fill the void
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
a smallflutter in my chest begins
the colors all around brighten
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
the flutter becomes a beat
then a pulse
sound all around
music
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past.
poem by Lauren Kiczula
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Looking, Walking, Being
"The World is not something to
look at, it is something to be in."
Mark Rudman
I look and look.
Looking's a way of being: one becomes,
sometimes, a pair of eyes walking.
Walking wherever looking takes one.
The eyes
dig and burrow into the world.
They touch
fanfare, howl, madrigal, clamor.
World and the past of it,
not only
visible present, solid and shadow
that looks at one looking.
And language? Rhythms
of echo and interruption?
That's
a way of breathing.
breathing to sustain
looking,
walking and looking,
through the world,
in it.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Echo
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Everywhere I go
There's something I really need
Everyone I know
Is someone I want to be
Even though
I don't really know me
I better pick it up
Before I let it slip away
I better stick it out
Before I take another day
Into mouth
Everything I say fades out
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Can I open up your eyes?
Only when the clouds break?
Can I feel the light?
Even though the world shakes
Every night,
You're my quiet satellite
Can I hold you close?
Do her out of focus
And everything I know
I don't even know this
It all falls through
I'm here and I hear you
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Cause I need to, just to reach you
Do you hear me?
Coming clearly?
Am I hollow?
Just an echo
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sleep-Walkers
In the town where I was born lived a woman and her daughter, who
walked in their sleep.
One night, while silence enfolded the world, the woman and her
daughter, walking, yet asleep, met in their mist-veiled garden.
And the mother spoke, and she said: 'At last, at last, my enemy!
You by whom my youth was destroyed--who have built up your life
upon the ruins of mine! Would I could kill you!'
And the daughter spoke, and she said: 'O hateful woman, selfish
and old! Who stand between my freer self and me! Who would have
my life an echo of your own faded life! Would you were dead!'
At that moment a cock crew, and both women awoke. The mother said
gently, 'Is that you, darling?' And the daughter answered gently,
'Yes, dear.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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