Voltaire Johnson
Why did you bruise me with your rough places
If you did not want me to tell you about them?
And stifle me with your stupidities,
If you did not want me to expose them?
And nail me with the nails of cruelty,
If you did not want me to pluck the nails forth
And fling them in your faces?
And starve me because I refused to obey you,
If you did not want me to undermine your tyranny?
I might have been as soul serene
As William Wordsworth except for you!
But what a coward you are, Spoon River,
When you drove me to stand in a magic circle
By the sword of Truth described!
And then to whine and curse your burns,
And curse my power who stood and laughed
Amid ironical lightning!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Grumpy Grandpa
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
As if they had been dipped in gore,
I'd like to set you lugging pails
And make you scrub the kitchen floor.
I'm old and crotchety of course,
And on this point my patience fails;
I'd sue my old girl for divorce
If she showed up with painted nails.
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
Like to a Jezebel are you;
Do you expect to snare the males
With talons of such bloody hue?
I could forgive your smudging lips,
Your scarlet cheek that powder veils,
But not your sanguine finger-tips . . .
Don't paw me with your painted nails.
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
Were I the sire of maidens ten,
I'd curse them over hills and dales,
And hold them to the scorn of men
If they had claws of crimson dye;
Aye, though they sang like nightingales,
Unto the welkin I would cry:
"Avaunt, ye hags with Painted Nails!"
poem by Robert William Service
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Three Lowly Nails
Three lowly nails,
Changed the world for you and me
Three lowly nails,
Were used to attach Jesus to a tree
Three lowly nails,
In each hand and through His feet
Three lowly nails,
Set His people free
Three lowly nails,
Gave us a King for eternity
poem by David Kush
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Symbols
’Tis said that the Passion Flower,
With its figures of spear and sword
And hammer and nails, is a symbol
Of the Woe of our Blessed Lord.
So still in the Heart of Beauty
Has been hidden, since Life drew breath,
The sword and the spear of Anguish,
And the hammer and nails of Death.
poem by Victor James Daley
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One with Darkness
When ever I go out I go out fighting
Screaming for chance to finally end up dying
I have to murder to fulfill my end of this deal
Death is imminent, but something that I’ll never feel.
This is my curse, this is my curse
Sign upon the bloody line I should’ve thought of first
This is my curse, this is my curse
This is my curse, this is my curse
Killing for a living this can’t get any worse
This is my curse, this is my curse
How can I ever love someone else
When murder is my life, and I can’t even love myself
Every night I wake up next to another dead whore
Someone please stop me I don’t want to murder anymore
poem by Justin Schock
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Opening Up To You
Opening up to you,
The night before,
red finger nails!
Dark finger nails!
White finger nails!
Blue finger nails!
To utter it out;
The thoughts of man,
The thoughts of woman,
The thoughts of a child! !
But, holding the torch and to touch you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Red Ambulance
so that ambulance just went by
and if you were high
the flashing lights would be a show
red as the blood she spilled
red enough to let her go
she filled in the outlines with her nails
just as red as she
then there was a red circus, for sale
as she red as she would be
and the fire was just so
that the red blazes burned her eyes
i think it was the red that let her go
like the red from her eyes after a person cries
so red, so real, from wrist to lights
so red, everytime, even in the night
shes like the savior
or the sacrafice
her nails, or the nails of the cross?
was it it the cross on the red ambulance
with the red lights?
or was it the cross of the savior, the sacrifice
was it all red every night?
is this a remake or the living
from the wrists
on the nails
where the lights
on the ambulance
with the cross
of the savior
with the nails
on the wrists
in the ambulance
with the cross
of the savior
red from the nails
on the wrists
that lay in the ambulance
the flashing red lights
near the cross
of the savior?
the sacrifice?
in the wrists
red with nails
on the cross
of savior or the saved?
ambulance
or cross
the wrists
the nails
the lights
the ambulance
the cross
the savior
with all the red
poem by Kathryn Garner
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Curse Of The Traveller
On the restless road to nowhere
Theres no certain peace it seems
Desire to keep on moving
Till the river of dreams
Is it just because someone told you
Is it just because you found
Old freedom feels uneasy when duty is around
When allegiance asks the questions
Old freedom twists and turns
And chokes on codes of honour
On the sword of no return
And its the curse of the traveller
The curse of the traveller
Got a hold of me
And it wont let you be
And in sleepless nights
Youll call her name
And feel loneliness cold to the bone
And when the daylight breaks
This old tired heart aches
To be such a long way, such a long way from home
And you long for the harbourlights
But youll never be free
Of the craving for refuge
And the call of the sea
Always wanting to sell up
But always needing to buy
So till the road leads to somewhere
And that river runs dry
Its the curse of the traveller
Aint gonna let you be
The curse of the traveller
And it sure got a hold of me
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Accursed Day
I curse the day I met you mourn.
I curse the day I dour departed left.
I curse the day that I was birth born.
I curse the day of self-sought death.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sleep's Curse
Sleep’s Curse
The curse of sleep that lies within,
May only be known by two therein.
In sharing one heart,
They create the part…
The curse of sleep that lies within.
The curse is thus so one can poll,
When one is half of another one’s whole.
It goes like this, in both it works.
There’s no escape from this one’s jerks.
When one is gone and the other’s there,
They both can’t sleep for no one’s near.
Each one will worry, and each one will fret.
Gaining no rest you can very well bet.
Reflect the curse with each together.
Neither one sleeps beneath the feather.
One seeks comfort the other to protect.
In this the curse laid bare and seen,
Sleep they shall never glean.
poem by Zachary Clougher
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About Her (Villanelle)
She having filthy finger nails like that of a workingman
She being found down by the shore, of Ice Lake
She being the frozen nude woman
She being the apparent victim of a madman
She being pretty like a one of a kind snowflake
She having filthy finger nails like that of a workingman
She, being frozen solid! Said the newsman
She being, negative 33 degrees below zero for God’s sake!
She being the frozen nude woman
She, must be vindicated by the hangman
She must be accounted for, never to forsake
She having filthy finger nails like that of a workingman
She must have a name? Asked the police man
She must have had some identification for heaven’s sake
She being the frozen nude woman
She was a beautiful woman
She is now but a-heartache
She having filthy finger nails like that of a workingman
She being the frozen nude woman
poem by William Cavanagh
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I Am... (Hands Of The Clock)
i am...
the hands of the clock,
approaching midnight.
the world on fire,
the thunderous shout of hunger.
i am the ditch,
filled with the bodies of freedom.
i am the hammer,
that drove the nails.
i am the hated, the despised,
and the friendless.
i am the stranger,
that smells like your brother.
i am the enemy
of tyranny and oppression.
i am the blood
shed for the truth.
i am the day after,
destruction and fall.
i am the taste of death,
that burns to live.
i am dirty, sweaty,
bruised, and shaken...
i am freedom standing
when all else is gone.
i am the chant of equality,
the downfall of religions.
i am the lover, the worker,
the farmer, and the builder.
i am the ark
that carries the seed.
i am the courage
that lays down weapons.
i am justice, listening,
caring, and changing!
i am revolution, redemption,
man and woman side by side.
i am electric, naked,
sensual, and common!
i am the end of what has been..
i am the new day,
the new way, the bridge between men!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Magnet and the Churn
A MAGNET hung in a hardware shop,
And all around was a loving crop
Of scissors and needles, nails and knives,
Offering love for all their lives;
But for iron the Magnet felt no whim,
Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him,
From needles and nails and knives he'd turn,
For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn!
His most aesthetic,
Very magnetic
Fancy took this turn -
"If I can wheedle
A knife or needle,
Why not a Silver Churn?"
And Iron and Steel expressed surprise,
The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,
The pen-knives felt "shut up," no doubt,
The scissors declared themselves "cut out,"
The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said,
While every nail went off its head,
And hither and thither began to roam,
Till a hammer came up - and drove it home,
While this magnetic
Peripatetic
Lover he lived to learn,
By no endeavour,
Can Magnet ever
Attract a Silver Churn!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Mark Of Caine
Its christmas time
And Im lonely
Here yknow the living
Aint easy
If you forget
The power to love
I said
Dont give up
Dont give up
If only I could
See you once again
If only to put
My lips against you again
Dont hold back
The power to love
Dont hold back
From the pluck of the lyre
In the arms of desire
It was dry
And a fine day
When we first came ashore
I wasnt really
Sure what I was looking for
Tracks of my mind
Made the tracks of my arms
Seemed a lot more of a curse
To make matters worse
I was lonely for you
So lonely for you
Baby yeah
So lonely
Oh if I should
See you once again
If only to press
My lips to yours
Aaaaah
Dont give up
The power to love
And dont hold back
The power to love
Dont hold back ah yeah
From the pluck of the lyre
In the arms of desire
And the tracks of my mind
Seemed more like a curse baby
Right there and then
I saw or swore I could see
With my own two eyes
Yo lying eyes
Yo lying eyes
Yes right there and then
It made the tracks of my mind
A lot more of a curs
Oh lonely for you
Baby yeah
So lonely for you
Baby yeah
So lonely for you
Baby yeah
And the tracks of my mind
Seemed more like a curse
The tracks of my mind
Seemed more like a curse baby
I was lonely for you
Baby yeah
So lonely for you
Baby yeah
So lonely for you
Baby yeah
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Parade
I cannot flap a flag
Or beat a drum;
Behind the mob I lag
With larynx dumb;
Alas! I fear I'm not
A Patriot.
With acrid eyes I see
The soul of things;
And equal unto me
Are cooks and kings;
I would not cross the street
A duke to meet.
Oh curse me for a fool
To be so proud;
To stand so still and cool
Amid the crowd.
For President or Peer
God, let me cheer!
But no, despite the glee
My heart is cold;
I think that it may be
Because I'm old;
I'm dumb where millions yell . . .
Oh what the hell!
poem by Robert William Service
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When you close your eyes, and say that it's okay.
Willful ignorance will blind the heart,
and catch you in its snare.
It will drag you tooth and nail,
It will drag you to its lair.
It will keep you bound and blind inside,
the truth you cannot see.
The fate you once called your own,
is neither yours nor is it free.
A path of lies and nails you tread,
The truth you've cast away.
Justice will follow in your wake,
Time will make you pay.
Actually, I wear the nail polish to hide how grubby my nails are.
quote by Caroline Corr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Song: I And Thou
Nothing is plumb, level, or square:
the studs are bowed, the joists
are shaky by nature, no piece fits
any other piece without a gap
or pinch, and bent nails
dance all over the surfacing
like maggots. By Christ
I am no carpenter. I built
the roof for myself, the walls
for myself, the floors
for myself, and got
hung up in it myself. I
danced with a purple thumb
at this house-warming, drunk
with my prime whiskey: rage.
Oh I spat rage’s nails
into the frame-up of my work:
it held. It settled plumb,
level, solid, square and true
for that great moment. Then
it screamed and went on through,
skewing as wrong the other way.
God damned it. This is hell,
but I planned it, I sawed it,
I nailed it, and I
will live in it until it kills me.
I can nail my left palm
to the left-hand crosspiece but
I can’t do everything myself.
1 need a hand to nail the right,
a help, a love, a you, a wife.
poem by Alan Dugan
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The River of Blood
It’s the river of blood
Initiated by the enemies of God
And when advised too or told to stop
They just give you the nod
The nod of ignorance and cruelty
The nod of no life and no feel
As they are told about they’re evilness
They believe that none of it is real
It’s the river of blood
That flows down a dark and red stream
And as I dip my hand in, it feels like sour, bitter cream
It’s the river of blood
The river of cruelty and pain
The river of blood
The river that flows in vain
The river that will never end
The river full of the dead
The river where they remain silently hopeless
The river where the majority of them bled
It’s this river of blood where I inject my power and strength from
It’s this river full of blood where my victory will soon come
The river of blood, the river that will soon contain me
It’s this river where my blood has long sought to be
The river of blood that shall soon end with an atrocious fight
The river of blood, the river that will no longer stay at sight.
poem by Marria Attar
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My Nails Match My Heart
my nails match my heart
'Lost Love' that's what its called
as pal as my nails my heart is
if only i could paint my heart
as easily as i paint my nails
red would be a nice color for the heart
does red match with how it feel
No! 'Lost Love' does
have i ever found love that paints my heart red
will i ever find that love that will slowly paint it
with tender strokes
so perfectly that nothing will ever ruin it
for now 'Lost Love' is the color it will stay
and tomorrow will hopefully be a new day
my nails match my heart
poem by Pilar Guethon
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Cry In The Night...
one last drink,
and a cobblestone prayer,
a hat creased by dreams,
boots made of flesh.
nickels and dimes,
revolution and light.
while shadows dance,
amid cobwebbed desires..
and the sparrow's lament,
mourns over buildings lost.
over lives soon forgotten,
over hunger and loss.
while the faces of children,
burned into the grain.
to the words of a god,
forgotten by name!
now liberty's nails,
rust beneath the load.
bodies piled on bodies,
under circling crows.
and justice lies beaten,
stripped in the alley.
while confusion reigns,
and indifference shouts!
who am I? ... you ask,
with threatening pose.
while the stink of your fear
burns books in the night...
i am the voice of your heart,
the dignity of your soul.
i am the cry in the darkness,
that bears your name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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