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My Hero Bares His Nerves

My hero bares his nerves along my wrist
That rules from wrist to shoulder,
Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost,
Leans on my mortal ruler,
The proud spine spurning turn and twist.

And these poor nerves so wired to the skull
Ache on the lovelorn paper
I hug to love with my unruly scrawl
That utters all love hunger
And tells the page the empty ill.

My hero bares my side and sees his heart
Tread; like a naked Venus,
The beach of flesh, and wind her bloodred plait;
Stripping my loin of promise,
He promises a secret heat.

He holds the wire from this box of nerves
Praising the mortal error
Of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves,
And the hunger's emperor;
He pulls that chain, the cistern moves.

poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Hero?

Her hero is pretty and thin
Her hero is a hero to many
A hero of fame and a hero of fortune
A role model, a hero of glamour
Her hero is a hero to many

His hero is fit and fast
His hero is a hero to many
A hero of sport, a hero of games
A role model, a hero of victory
His hero is a hero to many

Her hero is clever yet plane
Her hero is a hero to few
A hero of science, a hero of logic
A role model, a hero of knowledge
Her hero is a hero to few

His hero is a hero of art but he is poor
His hero is a hero to few
A hero of word a hero of writings
A role model, a hero of language
His hero is a hero to few

But that’s the thing with your heros....
Hero worship is only skin deep.

poem by Timothy Venard
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Slit the wrist and let it flow.

Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.

Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !

Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?

Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.

Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.

Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !

Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.

Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !

Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.

Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !

Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.

poem by Ariel Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh the nerves, the nerves; the mysteries of this machine called man! Oh the little that unhinges it, poor creatures that we are!

quote by Charles Dickens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mortal Love

mortality does
not ask for love eternal

mortal love
cannot outlive eternity’s edge
to an infinite span

mortal love
does not ask forever
never

mortal love
makes lies, makes changes,
twists and turns

mortal love is simple
like a dimple

one tongue
to one earthly word
nope

may do
may say something else

It is only asking
That you love
One day at a time

With all allowance for change
For a wider space
Leeways
Choices

Mortal love is free
frivolous

this love of mine

Today is just enough
mortal
And so rightly deserved

A mortal like me
Also bleeds
Weeds filled

No promises, just a hug, an embrace
And

A kiss, then could be, goodbye.

Because mortal love
Dies, like a wind passing by

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am My Hero

Of

course! !

I am a hero,
my hero,
your hero,

CNN hero,
Fox Taxis Oil toxic hero

my street mate hero,

my African roommate hero,

United nation hero,

unesco
unicef

moncef
duracef

charl
du champs hero,

picasso hero

mozart,
bethoven
chichina
lovesky

hero,

and everybody hero?

of! course! ! ! ! !

-not off course-
I LOVE
MYSELF...

DO YOU THINK

OR DREAM

I OR i

WILL SELL MY SELF? ? ?
? ? ?

OR ASK FOR

YOUR

APPROVAL,

SQUARED AND OVAL

AS YOU

LOVE IT TO BE..

Of course i am
my own hero

but,
also

i am sure...
everyone is my hero.

poem by Atef Ayadi
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Hunger In The Night

Theres a heart flight of a neon moon in the darkness of this shuttered room
Watch out
Easy for some action holy satisfaction ooh
Midnight makes a call skin begins to crawl
Inside the heights upon the fantasies
Let me introduce you now
Im gonna let you see the other side of me
Theres a hunger in the night moves me completely
Hunger in the night bleeds so sweetly
(its) a hunger in the night moves me completely
The hunger in the night bleeds so sweetly
Through the shadows you wont hear a thing
Cloaked in darkness my loves a deadly sting
Watch out
Comes in through the fence, sliding in the shiv
Want to be a hero situations zero
Inside the heights upon the fantasies
Let me introduce you now Im gonna let you see the other side of me
Chorus
As I lie me down to sleep, with the lord my soul to keep
If I die before I wake, will the lord my soul to take
This life has no distance, between the line and another day
Instrumental
The hunger in the night moves me completely
Hunger in the night, bleeds so sweetly
Hunger in the night, damned if you see me
Hunger in the night, come and see me

song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turn Around

I was working all night in my office
When a man I had recently killed
Called me up from a phone near my building
So I looked out the window at him
He had the same obsequious manner
That was the reason I had him killed
So to calm my nerves I sang this song
To him, over the phone
Turn around, turn around
Theres a thing there that can be found
Turn around, turn around
Its a human skull on the ground
Human skull on the ground
Turn around
I was out by myself in the graveyard
I was doing an interpretive dance
When I felt something heavy and pointed
Strike me in the back of the neck
And then the ghost of my dance instructor
Pushed me down into an open grave
And as dirt rained down she played a xylophone
And sang me this song
Turn around, turn around
Theres a thing there that can be found
Turn around, turn around
Its a human skull on the ground
Human skull on the ground
Turn around
We were waving our arms out the window
Of a fast moving passenger train
Acting in an irresponsible fashion
Until the engineer whose back had been turned
And who we thought would find us highly amusing
Quickly swiveled his head around
And his face which was a paper-white mask of evil
Sang us this song
Turn around, (round) turn around (round)
Theres a thing there that can be found (theres a thing there that can be)
Turn around, (found) turn around (round)
Its a human skull on the ground (its a human skull on the)
Human skull (ground) on the ground (round)
Turn around (turn around, turn around)
Turn around, (round) turn around (round)
Theres a thing there that can be found (theres a thing there that can be)
Turn around, (found) turn around (round)
Its a human skull on the ground (its a human skull on the)
Human skull (ground) on the ground (round)
Turn around (turn around, turn around)

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Kinsmen

The face of our kinship
So beautiful and rare
Will stand forever
Gifted of heaven
No earthly care.

Between time and tranquility
A quest for sensibility.
The search for friends a hunger serves
But most, alas, get on my nerves.

Alone in life
What mortal curse
Could scarce be breached
By something worse.
Companions?
One behind each tree...
Is it I, alone, who thinks like me?

My kindred with a wit so free
A heart so pure and true
You conjure up the best in me
I hope the same for you.

poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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What Is A Hero

A hero is a Dad,
who carries your heart onto his with his unconditional love.

A hero is a Dad,
who builds your first pair of wings to enable you to fly on your own.

A hero is a Dad,
who builds your faith when all hope tumbles out from your heart.

A hero is a Dad,
who builds you a magical ladder to keep you high off the ground.

A hero is a Dad,
who builds your confidence so you make it through the wind and rain.

A hero is a Dad,
who builds your strength beyond his own when your life with pain collides.

A hero is a Dad,
who knows when he must step aside when another hero has come to carry your heart onto his.

A hero is a Dad,
who builds his strength of having to let go when walking his little girl down the aisle to place her heart onto the heart of another hero.

poem by Linda Patino
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To be Hero

A hero is some one looked upto
Who others may love to be
A hero never loss hope
To be hero means to be courageous
And willing to put their life aside for another person
A hero is anybody or somebody that was loved
To be hero, must be successful
To be hero, may not be superhuman but must saved
If they say i'm to be hero
Hero must lead by sample because everyman is hero
Every hero is man

poem by Olaniyan Kehinde Hero Hko
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A Poem About George Doty in the Death House

Lured by the wall, and drawn
To stare below the roof,
Where pigeons nest aloof
From prowling cats and men,
I count the sash and bar
Secured to granite stone,
And note the daylight gone,
Supper and silence near.

Close to the wall inside,
Immured, empty of love,
A man I have wondered of
Lies patient, vacant-eye.
A month and a day ago
He stopped his car and found
A girl on the darkening ground,
And killed her in the snow.

Beside his cell, I am told,
Hardy perennial bums
Complain till twilight comes
For hunger and for cold.
They hardly know of a day
That saw their hunger pass.
Bred to the dark, their flesh
Peacefully withers away.

The man who sits alone,
He is the one for wonder,
Who sways his fingers under
The cleanly shaven chin,
Who sees, in the shaving mirror
Pinned to the barren wall,
The uprooted ghost of all:
The simple, easy terror.

Caught between sky and earth,
Poor stupid animal,
Stripped naked to the wall,
He saw the blundered birth
Of daemons beyond sound.
Sick of the dark, he rose
For love, and now he goes
Back to the broken ground.

Now, as he grips the chain
And holds the wall, to bear
What no man ever bore,
He hears the bums complain;
But I mourn no soul but his,
Not even the bums who die,
Nor the homely girl whose cry
Crumbled his pleading kiss.

poem by James Arlington Wright
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The Limitations Of The Body...

sometimes i forget that i have a body

it is only when i eat that i remember i have one
but most of the times

i am full and so i almost forget all about this body
i am feeding it with wrong things

ideas, more ideas,
i am covering it with mysteries that it cannot relate because
a body is just a body
earthly, mundane
clay,
stick, creepy
skin, hair
sunken eyes,
trembling hands

it is flesh, bones, cartilages,
and

nerves, and when all these nerves take revenge on me
i shall finally lose this body
which i welcome somehow
because i have not experienced it yet
fully

i live in the mind,
my castle is in my imagination,
and i eat nothing for the day
but words
and i drink nothing for the day but ink
and i touch nothing for the day
but keys

the body is forgotten and so are my chains,
my prisons, my
dark rooms,

my body, this fetter,
this
ball and chain that hold me
in hunger and pain and
thirst and
constant urination,
disturbing
defecation

sometimes i like to become nothing but air
so you cannot see me anymore so i can go places and be lost forever

because i am not this body,
and i do not want to be caught in here
a little longer.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Presidents with strong nerves are decisive. They don't balk at unpopular decisions. They are willing to make people angry. Bush had strong nerves. Clinton, who passed up a chance to eliminate Osama bin Laden, did not. Obama is a people pleaser, a trait not normally associated with nerves of steel.

quote by Fred Barnes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunger Hunger To Worship

hunger hunger building up in heart
hunger hunger mounting building up in soul
hunger need hunger grows grows needs to be sated
hunger need hunger need to worship to worship God
hunger ache pain growing need to rush run to God
to rush back to God’s arms as we met in gift creativity
our souls are out back out upon swift flowing healing water
we are together carried over all all lighter darker ink water
we are together giving always giving love throughout time
hunger hunger to love worship universe creator our God

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Before I Knocked

Before I knocked and flesh let enter,
With liquid hands tapped on the womb,
I who was as shapeless as the water
That shaped the Jordan near my home
Was brother to Mnetha's daughter
And sister to the fathering worm.

I who was deaf to spring and summer,
Who knew not sun nor moon by name,
Felt thud beneath my flesh's armour,
As yet was in a molten form
The leaden stars, the rainy hammer
Swung by my father from his dome.

I knew the message of the winter,
The darted hail, the childish snow,
And the wind was my sister suitor;
Wind in me leaped, the hellborn dew;
My veins flowed with the Eastern weather;
Ungotten I knew night and day.

As yet ungotten, I did suffer;
The rack of dreams my lily bones
Did twist into a living cipher,
And flesh was snipped to cross the lines
Of gallow crosses on the liver
And brambles in the wringing brains.

My throat knew thirst before the structure
Of skin and vein around the well
Where words and water make a mixture
Unfailing till the blood runs foul;
My heart knew love, my belly hunger;
I smelt the maggot in my stool.

And time cast forth my mortal creature
To drift or drown upon the seas
Acquainted with the salt adventure
Of tides that never touch the shores.
I who was rich was made the richer
By sipping at the vine of days.

I, born of flesh and ghost, was neither
A ghost nor man, but mortal ghost.
And I was struck down by death's feather.
I was a mortal to the last
Long breath that carried to my father
The message of his dying christ.

You who bow down at cross and altar,
Remember me and pity Him
Who took my flesh and bone for armour
And doublecrossed my mother's womb.

poem by Dylan Thomas
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Heros

A Hero Fights For You
A Hero Stands By Your Side
A Hero Is Willing To Go An Inch Longer

A Hero Knows What It's Like To Lose Someone
A Hero Knows What To Do Right Then
A Hero Never Leaves Someone Behind

A Hero Has Someone To Make Them Who They Are
A Hero Will Never Risk Someone To Save Himself
A Hero Always Takes The Risk Just For The Last One

We All Have A Hero In Us

We All Need Are Hero

poem by Jamie Newcomb
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The Virgin Considered As A Picture

Her unawed face, whose pose so long assumed
Is touched with what reality we feel,
Bends to itself and, to itself resumed,
Restores a tender fiction to the real.

And in her artful posture movement lies
Whose timeless motion flesh must so conceal;
Yet what her pose conceals we might surmise
And might pretend to gather from her eyes

The final motion flesh gives up to art.
But slowly, if we watch her long enough,
The nerves grow subtler, and she moves apart

Into a space too dim with time and blood
For our set eyes to follow true enough,
Or nerves to guess about her, if they would.

poem by Edgar Bowers
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Hero

My hero is no hero at all.
My hero silently walks these empty halls.
As I falter…
As I fall…
My hero continues to walk these silent…empty halls,
These halls are windows into my hell.
Servants of Baal…
Here they dwell.
Frozen inequities… How fickle they are to me
My hero possesses no qualities at all.
My hero…has virtues but none known well
My hero only protects his respect.
My hero… is no hero at all.

poem by Juxtaposed Jealousy
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The Master of Death

I am falling head over heals in love with
The Master of Death
He’s the one that makes you look over your shoulder… twice
Sends chills down your spine
And forces your fairy tail dreams into nightmares
That would make the devil cry and shiver in terror

My body urns for his touch but
His hands set fire to everyone’s flesh

My moist rosy red lips hunger for the taste of his,
But know he has the kiss of death

With his morbid pen within his right hand
The letters on the paper run in fear
And laugh at the pain of the other writers
For he is the best and
The letters know the other writers are reading
The Master of Death’s
They are reading Saint Cynosure’s
Greatest way to get inside your head

I am falling for The Master of Death
So let it be
But to me he is not so scary
That you all can’t see

poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Book Of Love

Written by lindsey buckingham and richard dashut.
Walked out, goodbye
I swore I never would cry
Tore a page of my heart
She wants me to be her friend
Im lonely again
Tore a page of my heart
Oh, tell me who wrote the book of love
Was it somebody from above
(ha, ha, ha)
Surely he must know all the rules
(ha, ha, ha)
Knowledge not meant for mortal fools
Must have been someone from above
Tell me, who wrote the book of love
In silence the lonely make all their mistakes
Tore a page of my heart
Someone in heaven above
Shop me how to love
Tore a page of my heart
Oh, tell me who wrote the book of love
Was it somebody from above
(ha, ha, ha)
Surely he must know all the rules
(ha, ha, ha)
Knowledge not meant for mortal fools
Must have been someone from above
Tell me, who wrote the book of love
Oh, tell me who wrote the book of love
Was it somebody from above
(ha, ha, ha)
Surely he must know all the rules
(ha, ha, ha)
Knowledge not meant for mortal fools
Must have been someone from above
Tell me, who wrote the book of love

song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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