When, Like a Running Grave
When, like a running grave, time tracks you down,
Your calm and cuddled is a scythe of hairs,
Love in her gear is slowly through the house,
Up naked stairs, a turtle in a hearse,
Hauled to the dome,
Comes, like a scissors stalking, tailor age,
Deliver me who timid in my tribe,
Of love am barer than Cadaver's trap
Robbed of the foxy tongue, his footed tape
Of the bone inch
Deliver me, my masters, head and heart,
Heart of Cadaver's candle waxes thin,
When blood, spade-handed, and the logic time
Drive children up like bruises to the thumb,
From maid and head,
For, sunday faced, with dusters in my glove,
Chaste and the chaser, man with the cockshut eye,
I, that time's jacket or the coat of ice
May fail to fasten with a virgin o
In the straight grave,
Stride through Cadaver's country in my force,
My pickbrain masters morsing on the stone
Despair of blood faith in the maiden's slime,
Halt among eunuchs, and the nitric stain
On fork and face.
Time is a foolish fancy, time and fool.
No, no, you lover skull, descending hammer
Descends, my masters, on the entered honour.
You hero skull, Cadaver in the hangar
Tells the stick, 'fail.'
Joy is no knocking nation, sir and madam,
The cancer's fashion, or the summer feather
Lit on the cuddled tree, the cross of fever,
Not city tar and subway bored to foster
Man through macadam.
I dump the waxlights in your tower dome.
Joy is the knock of dust, Cadaver's shoot
Of bud of Adam through his boxy shift,
Love's twilit nation and the skull of state,
Sir, is your doom.
Everything ends, the tower ending and,
(Have with the house of wind), the leaning scene,
Ball of the foot depending from the sun,
(Give, summer, over), the cemented skin,
The actions' end.
All, men my madmen, the unwholesome wind
With whistler's cough contages, time on track
Shapes in a cinder death; love for his trick,
Happy Cadaver's hunger as you take
The kissproof world.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Related quotes
Beyond You
Why do I always remember the time
of departure?
The parting maze of tears?
I accept another day that will never be
the same.
I will carry the cadaver of sin,
the crime of silence, amidst the dancing
dunes.
Who will go after the barbs of rays?
Father, go slowly in the sea.
I am closing the windows now, take
care of the clock
and potter’s wheel.
The cruel age is harping on the new
designs.
My epilogue is short with love of
death which does not go beyond you.
poem by Satish Verma
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Ragnarok
Our Trojan world is polarised to mourn;
To dream and find a black spot on the sun,
And wake to love and find our lover gone.
The destination of any weapon is grief.
In homesteads now where joy must seem naive
Under a splitting sky our women conceive.
The towns of houses, massed security
Out-generalled by a later century,
Are hearse-plumes on an old economy.
The ache of crushed walls when the raid is over.
This is a house, we said, we have built forever:
A two-backed fool, thinking of one day's weather.
Only one monster has to love his error.
Only his wrangling heart cannot recover,
But glories in illusion when half cadaver;
Or likes being ill, or nurses grievances,
Or calls a mountain or a forest 'his',
Or quarrels in five hundred languages.
And man, erect, unvenerable,
A bloodshot eye so simply vulnerable
That half his history is marginal,
Incises stone in the Bastille of hate:
'Give us this day before it is too late
Something to love indeed, enough to eat.'
poem by Kenneth Allott
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Foeticide
Ends did not meet, like beginnings,
fact was insulted by fiction:
the newborn stuns the God.
Drop by drop
life drips from ankles.
Desolation takes advantage,
forgets the path, becomes self-centered.
Dialect changes, to taste the foul
heritage,
cadaver breaks the glass jar.
Foeticide of a flute, overnight
the soft face becomes dark. Orange moon
floats like an empty boat.
Waves burn
for the sake of swollen lids of time.
The essence of lies weaves a theme
a skull rolls down on a slide
laughing like sin of omissions.
Night screams.
A hot sun glows from the window.
poem by Satish Verma
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Exiled
I threw myself in deep slumber
pledging not to play the game
for others and exiled myself within me
after the rebellion.
A realized being, suffers
at the hand of a thorn skull,
learns to be silent, choking on words
across the pages which are blank.
Immeasurable limits of space and senses
start a hierarchy which will breed contempt.
There was a memory, a suffering of absurdism
I am still caged in.
The kingdom collapses in brilliance of sun,
the man starts another version of hate.
Acquires the blood of royal vein
and promises to become a beautiful cadaver.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Dead Heart
After I wrote this, a friend scrawled on this page, “Yes.”
And I said, merely to myself, “I wish it could be for a
different seizure—as with Molly Bloom and her ‘and
yes I said yes I will Yes.'
It is not a turtle
hiding in its little green shell.
It is not a stone
to pick up and put under your black wing.
It is not a subway car that is obsolete.
It is not a lump of coal that you could light.
It is a dead heart.
It is inside of me.
It is a stranger
yet once it was agreeable,
opening and closing like a clam.
What it has cost me you can’t imagine,
shrinks, priests, lovers, children, husbands,
friends and all the lot.
An expensive thing it was to keep going.
It gave back too.
Don’t deny it!
I half wonder if April would bring it back to life?
A tulip? The first bud?
But those are just musings on my part,
the pity one has when one looks at a cadaver.
How did it die?
I called it EVIL.
I said to it, your poems stink like vomit.
I didn’t stay to hear the last sentence.
It died on the word EVIL.
It did it with my tongue.
The tongue, the Chinese say,
is like a sharp knife:
it kills
without drawing blood.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Defending The Nation
Mourning and lamentations cause us to shudder,
The crying is awake, a large man shakes our understanding.
The weather is hazardous tonight, the night shall make us blind,
One laughs and cries at the same time, for it is raining.
A death is expected to enshroud us, a cadaver appears,
One man is taken by another man, cancelling his life.
The weather of the next day is like morning’s tidings,
Health appears for us in full measure, for we are alive.
We are in this war to interblend with the enemy,
Marching and more marching destroys the enemy.
To take our blood, to decimate the entire force of our country
Shall produce many tears and wounds, lamentations are causing us to shudder.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Summer Fever
Winds may come and the winds may flow
But theres no wind can cool me of my fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Time of love, time of year
Temperatures rising, our bodies near in fever, summer fever
Summer fever
A heat-wave run, a dog-day night
Were making love, things are right, its fever, summer fever
Summer fever
You burn so deep with your love so sweet
And you satisfy and mystify my fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Body to body, arms entwined
Locked in your love, feeling fine with fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Time of love, time of year
Temperatures rising, our bodies near in fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Winds may come and the winds may blow
But theres no wind can cool me of my fever, summer fever
Summer fever
You burn so deep with your love so sweet
And you satisfy and mystify my fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Fever, summer fever
Fever, summer fever
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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X-ray
The blast
left the man
standing
a cadaver
fused into steel
bathed in the soft glow
of the moon.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Summer Time Blues
Try to add perfumes to your minds to meet me there,
The summer is here and it is with the blues;
You are not alone on this hot summer night.
We havethe natural fragrant to keep us going,
The summer time blues to swing with the muse;
You are not alone without the blues.
Scents for your love,
Mid-Summer-Night blues to your taste;
Enjoy the summer with the safety of numbers.
Summer time blues,
The fragrant of love to keep you going;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
Summer time blues,
The summer of a muse;
Summer time blues,
The summer of a poem;
With relationships that moves you up.
Summer time blues,
With the heat waves to crown the day;
Perfume your body to meet up to the act.
Let us visit Copacabana and Ipanema this summer,
Of the rocky promontory at sight to give you hope;
Like the summer time blues with your lover.
It is summer time,
Visit the beaches to see things for yourselves;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
Meet me there and touch me with your heart.
A summer time love with the blues,
Like the golden grape of my soul;
Summer is the essence of a colourful life.
The sense of reality in times like this,
The heat with love to share with others;
Where the hearts of lovers do meet like,
One's love never touched before.
Summer time blues is all about this muse,
A time of love to share with your lover;
Summer, summer, summer time! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Learning to Die
Death is not sudden, death does not grieve,
Death takes a while to achieve.
Death comes in layers;
Death is the mouse
From under the couch
At three am, and from under the stairs.
Death is the tumour on my mother’s skin,
Death is a jackhammer pounding in.
Death is a scrabbling crab on all fours,
Death is a jaguar on rough padded paws,
Lurking in the oven doors,
And hiding in the bureau drawers.
Death is the lump within my breast,
Death is the invited dinner guest.
Death is the cadaver,
A slab of cold meat
That lies on a plate.
Death is the wall of frozen sleet.
Death to me comes much too late.
poem by Caroline Misner
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The Grave
The career in the tomb is magnificent,
Hell has a chance, whilst heaven also is possible.
Take care! Be with calibre and be sharp,
As much as a knife that cuts deep and makes a wound.
May we condemn the blasphemers, and let them rot
After many years and centuries of so awkward torture.
A cadaver is sometimes blessed, but not often,
It may need reviving by the almighty angels,
Such as the death angels.
A grave shall swear it created joy for some,
And an attraction for many.
poem by Naveed Akram
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After Serial Blasts To Make A Point
After seeding the clouds
they were going to buy wet lips.
Seven minutes to make a bomb:
a micro-chip, ammonium nitrate and a circuit,
one headless body squirts a long jet of blood.
Run, run for the cover, with nuggets of
wailing times. Black walls intercept the flames.
A nimbus suspends the door.
Cryptic commands fail. A body sprawls
on payment for wheels to move. You
hand me a child to find his bilolgical mother.
A long manifesto makes the cadaver shrink.
Clocks spin in frenzy. Mirrored people
look like ghosts. A city burns.
poem by Satish Verma
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Maybe This Time
I look into your eyes
and think maybe this time.
Maybe this time
I won't get my heart ripped out.
Maybe this time
I won't get lied to.
Maybe this time
there will be trust.
Maybe this time
I will be in love and happy at the same time.
Maybe this time
He won't be un faithful.
Maybe this time
My tears won't come crashing down.
Maybe this time
your eyes won't lie.
Maybe this time
your smile won't trick me.
Maybe this time
Love will mean something (to the both of us)
Maybe this time
I'll have a true smile instead of a fake one.
Maybe this time
It'll work
Maybe this time
my heart won't get tossed a side and beaten.
Maybe this time
your warmth will calm me.
Maybe this time
When I'm in your arms I'll feel safe, and be safe.
Maybe this time
You will see the real me.
Maybe this time
You will be there.
Maybe this time
Whe I see you, I won't cry.
Ya....maybe this time........maybe this time.
poem by Jessica Elizondo
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Transitions....
at first the house is one kind of a party
more friends are coming
you even let the mailman to have a drink
and stay for a while
though he has nothing to say just like
the masons and some carpenters
then the house was almost burned
there was so much panic that day
the whole village talked about it for weeks
of course, the house as usual is silent like
most rocks
to regain its solidity
it listens to the refreshes of the sea breeze
it resumes its pacific nature
facing the sea and learning from the past storms
then something so horrible happens
but no one in the house is telling about it
the pillars shook and some walls gave in
a part of the roof was taken by the hurricane
but the house is still in tact
changes come into play
the gates are closed
the mailman is having a hard time pressing the door bell
the mail box is broken
and some thieves are anticipating that someday
they can get in and make their presence felt
perhaps to take
what is essential
what they did not know is that
no one lives in this house anymore
all the memories are put into boxes and kept in the cellars
the house has become one mummified pharaoh
a pyramid that points to the sun
the village only talks about the built-in mysteries
it is one kind of a cadaver surrounded by flowers
whose heart has been removed a few days ago
and then the talk stops
and that was only when the last prayer was said.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Can't Leave It Be
What you found sure upsets you
You never saw it coming, did you?
It's easy to be surprised with both your eyes sewn closed
Handled with great precision
Another faultless execution
You're the subject of this exhibition
A willing cadaver
A willing cadaver
Scalpeled, sutured, made whole again
These cuts are leaving creases
Trace the scar, fit the pieces,
Tell your story, you don't need to say a word
Call off the cavalry
Can't save a wretch like me
Clean this with kerosene
If you can't leave it be, might as well make it bleed
Scalpeled, sutured, made whole again
Your wires are frayed, can't fire right
You look better when out of sight
You were not made to stand and fight
There's something better wrong with you
Your wires are frayed, can't fire right
You look better when out of sight
You were not made to fire right
There's something better wrong with you
Your pulse is anemic
You're tired of the fire
You're bruising too easy
And falling behind
And no one is waiting for you
And no one is waiting for you
Call off the quarantine
Can't save the rest from me
Clean this with kerosene
If you can't leave it be, might as well make it bleed
Scalpeled, sutured, made whole again
song performed by by Dashboard Confessional
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Grief Ago
A grief ago,
She who was who I hold, the fats and the flower,
Or, water-lammed, from the scythe-sided thorn,
Hell wind and sea,
A stem cementing, wrestled up the tower,
Rose maid and male,
Or, master venus, through the paddler's bowl
Sailed up the sun;
Who is my grief,
A chrysalis unwrinkling on the iron,
Wrenched by my fingerman, the leaden bud
Shot through the leaf,
Was who was folded on the rod the aaron
Road east to plague,
The horn and ball of water on the frog
Housed in the side.
And she who lies,
Like exodus a chapter from the garden,
Brand of the lily's anger on her ring,
Tugged through the days
Her ropes of heritage, the wars of pardon,
On field and sand
The twelve triangles of the cherub wind
Engraving going.
Who then is she,
She holding me? The people's sea drives on her,
Drives out the father from the caesared camp;
The dens of shape
Shape all her whelps with the long voice of water,
That she I have,
The country-handed grave boxed into love,
Rise before dark.
The night is near,
A nitric shape that leaps her, time and acid;
I tell her this: before the suncock cast
Her bone to fire,
Let her inhale her dead, through seed and solid
Draw in their seas,
So cross her hand with their grave gipsy eyes,
And close her fist.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Tall Claims
You become a chair.
A dream sits in you
for a graphic detail of
pelvis. A trophy?
Was it undecorous to present
a cadaver walking on the earth?
A serial killer wants a plaque
on his grave after the verdict.
Saber-rattling has started,
unplucking the lovers of game.
A peltate shield in hushed silence
covers the undressing.
The prisoner of words tempers with
a mask to become a bruise.
poem by Satish Verma
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Love Among The Cannibals
Love among the cannibals, love among the cannibals
Love among the cannibals
I heard you sing about love, but that was a long time ago
I was one of the ones who believed your lies, now your true colors show
So we stand upon the grave of the promises you made
With nowhere left to hide and no more alibis
Dark teeth, bite deep - better not turn your back
No show, move slow - remember to cover your tracks - get back!
Love among the cannibals (eat my heart out), two-faced animals
Love among the cannibals (I wanna stand and shout) two-faced animals
I move alone in the dark, feelin too weak to fight
Cause I know the dream is about to die, in the dim and dusty light
Where the river used to roll a caravan of souls
Move naked and alone, shining like a bone
Night falls, skin crawls - darkness everywhere
Too much bad blood - nobody seems to care - beware!
Love among the cannibals (eat my heart out), two-faced animals
Love (oh) among the cannibals
Love among the cannibals (love), two-faced animals
Love (love) among the cannibals, two-faced animals.
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rags
Everything is rags and there's nobody to blame but me
And it would be so easy if there was noone to hurt but me
But now everything that i do coming out of me
Will just tear through you
In and out of you
Up and down your life like a curse
(so that when the sun bursts,
When the rain falls, when the wind blows,
I rip through your heart. on a horse called nightmare,
Bucking and spitting, i ride to your house
In the home of bluebeard, blood flows as red as any flag
Death cries "victory is mine!"
Laughter echoes,
And death just claps his hands
And then time stands still, castles fall,
Lightning strikes the tower, announcing chaos
Sunday's child scales the walls
Of a paradise then dives into darkness.
A fool playing god
With one foot in eden, one foot in hell
And blindness in his brain
And fever in his eyes
Lies on his tongue
Still saying "this is just a dream"
/
Cast by the only son of rags
Who would wrap you up in all the finest tatters
But he wanted nothing more, my loved one,
Than to wrap you up in joy
But it never be with me -- you and i are like two worlds
Not meant to collide
Death to each other
In the unravelling of time
So how do you... how do you like it?
What kind of dream would you call it -
To have one foot in eden,
One foot in hell
To be always numb,
Plagued by demons
Summoned by angels at the same time,
Endlessly)
But i will burn me
Right out of this place.
I will lay you down to sleep
So when you wake
I'll be gone
And you
Will remember
Nothing
You
Will remember...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Nakedness
In the winter house you will meet her garden of love and,
In the summer house you will meet her nakedness!
And like the message of the fowls of the air who do view us all.
With my soul i have desired you my love,
For you are naked under the apple tree of love;
With my love i will be with you always,
For your nakedness is before me like a film!
But i saw the face of a man, a woman and a child within.
Old and patched,
My life is like the gragons of the sea!
But being crafty and deceitful is your love,
For you are always naked in the heat of the summer.
Her nakedness,
And of the lust of the flesh that is always seen around;
But try to learn from the double walls of love,
For it is time to wake up from the lust of the eyes.
Soot, smoke and dust;
The red sea dried up for her nakedness to appear!
But watch and see who is playing around her,
For her summer house is ready for her lovers.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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