Love Has Its Own Scars...
love does not sleep with clouds
and flowers...
nor wait patiently on dawn!
but with the barrel of the gun
cold on bruised lips,
with the torn flesh of moonlight,
at the height of the storm.
love never enters by doors,
but steals through windows...
speaks fluently in the language of hurt.
is the beginning of wars,
and their only end.
wine bittered with poison,
water still and pure!
rises in flight without warning,
tears the gutters from the roof.
shouts with silence,
and rhymes poverty's nails.
has its own prayers,
names its own gods...
becomes the value of a life,
on eternity's table.
the hurricane that strokes,
the hunger that weeps.
love has its own scars,
digs its own grave with a fork!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Already Over Me
As you poured out the drinks for me
I felt your hooks sink right into me
And I knew you were my destiny
And I thought you'd get the best of me
On the way down to Mexico
As I danced in yuor rodeo
You say poverty is picturesque
As you dragged your nails across my chest
You're so cold
You're so cruel
I'm your man
Not your fool
Are you already over me
Are you already over me
Are you already over me
What a fool I've been
In the first flush of ecstacy
As you lay naked next to me
While our love put the dawn to flight
I just ignore all those warning lights
Cause when you laugh
I just cry
When you left
I just died
Are you already over me
Are you already over me
Are you already sick me
What a fool I've been
Hard to hold on
To a love divine
I'm kneeling in a corner
Praying to your shrine
I've been hurt
So confused
I've been burned
I've been bruised
Are you already over me
Are you already over me
Are you already sick of me
Are you already over me
Are you already over me
Are you already tired of me
Are you already over me
What a fool I've been
What a fool I've been
What a fool I've been
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Bridges To Babylon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back When.... (The World Was New)
we used to say 'i love you'...
rushing out doors we never locked.
leaving the fire untended,
and dishes in the sink.
summers came and died,
and neighbors seemed to follow.
as the footprints of small children,
became shadows that grew and left.
we who were forever young,
drinking dawn after dawn.
who are we now?
forever rusting in autumn....
the old spicket drips,
and dogs sleep as if they knew.
even the bricks begin to crumble,
the tin torn from the roof.
the setting sun names its own births,
and validates its deaths.
we who never speak,
words that seem strange to lips.
the flowers rest in peace,
the ashes cold and still.
as locks become the way,
the last winter looms in dread.
seems every house is vacant,
as the world drowns in transit.
we used to say 'i love you'...
back when the world was new!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Tale Of Dusty & Pistol Pete
Dusty screams, through doors and imaginary floors
why cant you miss me?
Pistol pete removes the final breaths from her unkind and she is shaken
What does this mean in love or in peace?
With you lying next to me
So faithless serene
And she calls to him
Let the waste cross the ancient trails to you
Far out beneath the sorrow clouds
Let them taste the bitter lost mistake of you
Let them cry out through your rusted scars
Alone he roams inside the ordinary catacombs of her waiting
With raven hands she steals and staggers towards her man
Still scorned by his demon
Because hes undone
Become the language of
Disaster and love, vengeance and dust
And she calls to him
Let the waste cross the ancient trails to you
Far out beneath the sorrow clouds
Let them taste the bitter lost mistake of you
Let them cry out through your rusted scars
Dusty screams, through doors and imaginary scenes
Of hurt and teardrop
As he holds her down, in the cold lonely winds
Together again, her inside him
And she calls to him
Let the waste cross the ancient trails to you
Far out beneath the sorrow clouds
Let them taste the bitter lost mistake of you
Let them cry out through your rusted scars
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storm
Strange weather Im having inside my head,
This crazy atmosphere puts my mind to bed,
But the storm in my skin is the fire where youve been,
My waking eyes watch this life begin.
Here comes the storm again, love is a hurricane,
And every day that I live I will live for the rain,
Electrify me, magnify me, feel the thunder rolling through me,
Oh so mysterious, the shape of my dreams,
Love is the sky falling in.
Here comes the storm again, here comes the hurricane,
And this life that I live, I will give to the rain,
Here comes the storm again!
Light patterns to a field of light, they move and live for the rain.
Here comes the storm again, here comes the hurricane,
And this life that I live, I will give to the rain,
Here comes the storm again! again!
Here comes the storm again, bring on the clouds again,
Love is a hurricane, and I live for the rain,
I live for the rain!
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scars (On The Face)
ecstasy...
the window broken
by moonlight.
the bastard star,
that licks the wound.
the fire that burns flesh,
and opens the casket.
the hammer
that breaks the shell.
love sap spilled
on a forbidden book.
the history of mankind,
written in charcoal.
the tears of the prisoner,
set free, drunk on freedom.
the garlic lips,
that tempt the hunger.
the hunger's howl,
and the silence of the wolf.
the lover's tongue
on the beating heart.
smoke rising from the fire...
scars on the face of the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Forsaken
'sleep was my first love'
and it meant a lot to me
it waited me so patiently
every time I walked out of the lobby
when hundred moons wiggled on my palms
and billion of stars carol to my eyes
Sleep walked with the thin clouds
Touched me, caressed softly my mind
From the nights I made him wait till dawn,
I took him for granted and he lost his patience
He escaped from the night’s wing
And bloomed to sun’s ranching over the continents
O how I miss his kiss when night fall tease
My bed is empty without sleep
Cold nights are broken, silence forsaken my world
Without my first love……….. sleep
Inspired by the poem: SLEEP – Ratnakar Rout
poem by Catrina Heart
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The Language Of Silence
we cannot often hear...
the whisperings of the grasses,
the chant of trees swaying,
those intimate voices in the wind...
we have no names for these sounds,
these doings outside the cage.
does the body call from the grave?
do bird's wings exchange secrets with the sky?
is the moment just before, and just after,
the last breath... the only eternity we know?
why do we call god, god?
is the atheist closer to the presence?
we go to wars with righteous fever...
we kill as if a gift.... to whom?
we draw our morals with black crayons
on the sheets of our indiscretions..
wearing our holiness like halloween masks...
who are we fooling?
if you must call her god,
i'm sure she weeps...
the lover mourns who walks alone!
the wind has no name,
and that is enough!
the language of silence
smells like nails and tastes like rain!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In Prayer
in prayer you kneel you make your pleas
you signify
your lowliness in supplication
you behave
like a slave
you mumble you juggle your words
choppy sometimes as you are in deep sorrow
in hunger in thirst
in dire need of comfort
asking wanting that your prayers
be granted
you genuflect to a certain extent
you are crying
you are silent
yet you are so confused and crowded
you need your prayers to be answered
at once
the soonest
you are dying
or someone you love is dying out there
you want to live
you want the other you love to live some years
you want to be together
hence your prayers
some tears fall on the floors now wet and salty
a flood of tears
a rush of a thousand words in supplication
you fall on the floor
face down the earth hands stretching body flat and so tired
i watch you and i pity you and if i were God myself i could have
heard and granted all our prayers
the prayer room is so silent
it is cold tonight and i am too, so confused hearing nothing
outside a storm is raging
the rain so strong like the wind is coming
i close the door and the windows so there may still be silence
so our prayers may be heard
who knows? maybe, maybe, who knows? we must still continue....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Like A Stone
On a cold wet
Afternoon
No room for love and emptiness
By a freeway
I confess I was lost in the pages
Of a book
Full of death
Reading how well die alone
And if a God will lay to rest
Anywhere we want to go
In your house
I long to be
Room by room
Patiently
Ill wait for you there
Like a stone
Ill wait for you there
Alone
And on my death bed
I will prey
To the gods and the angels
Like a pagan
To anyone who will take me to heaven
To a place
I would recall
I was there so long ago
The sky was bruised
The world was black
And there you led me on
In your house
I long to be
Room by room
Patiently
Ill wait for you there
Liek a stone
Ill wait for you there
Alone
In all I read
Till the day was gone
And I sat in regret
In all the things Ive done
For all that Ive blessed
And all that Ive wronged
In dreams till my death
I will wonder on
In your house
I long to be
Room by room
Patiently
Ill wait for you there
Like a stone
Ill wait for you there
Alone
Alone
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Memorial to Lost Love
Closing doors to a former love
Like graveyard soil thrown down a coffin
Will then be sealed by the rain above
To silence all passion felt therein.
Farewells like flowers lace the grave
Will soon dry up, wither, and die
Tears that flowed can never be saved
For the former love, in sleep there lie.
Closing doors leaves a permanence
Love's epitaph of finality
Snuffing out all remaining essence
To face the inevitable, Reality.
Goodbyes are distant words unsaid
Only the speech of grieving hearts
Bury the love that is now dead
Its cooling embers too soon depart.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Familiarity And Monotony Of Love...
we both
accept it: we do not believe
that love has something to
do with it
we decide
always we decide what to do with our life
marriage included,
agreements renewed
vows restated,
on the same table
of monotony
we serve love
we slice love and take the bite
we pour love in our glasses
we drink love
we smoke love
we sigh
we converse love in the middle of the night
we are tired of love
and we sleep love
in that bed of monotony
we wake up filled with love
we have love for breakfast
we go to work carrying love inside our pockets
we were love in our faces
there is always that familiarity
in the routine of love
and with so much love sprayed in our bodies
day and night
we forget its meaning
we take it as potable water
we do not notice if it still satisfies our thirst
if it fills our hunger like the food that we prepare and eat
we declare after so many years together
still intact under the roof of marriage
we wear love we do not notice if we are dressed at all
we sleep and we are so tired
love is here and yet we do not mind it anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Villanelle
We said farewell, my youth and I,
When all fair dreams were gone or going,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
When white blooms fell from tree-tops high—
Our Austral winter’s way of snowing—
We said farewell, my youth and I.
We did not sigh—what use to sigh
When Death passed as a mower mowing,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry?
But hearing Life’s stream thunder by,
That sang of old through flowers flowing,
We said farewell, my youth and I.
There was no hope in the blue sky,
No music in the low winds blowing,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
My hair is black as yet, then why
So sad! I know not, only knowing
We said farewell, my youth and I.
All are not buried when they die;
Dead souls there are through live eyes showing
When Love’s red lips are cold and dry.
So, seeing where the dead men lie,
Out of their hearts the grave-flowers growing,
We said farewell, my youth and I,
When Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Silence 1.
Most times when I'm hurt,
My silence speaks for me.
She speaks very loud;
Even louder than a megaphone.
I choose to be silent, -
When most things happen,
Not because I cannot speak;
Nor that my words have evaded me,
But because in my silence-
There's a challenging power.
Sometimes in my fears,
When my heart is filled with love,
And my eyes with tears;
I learn to love, just like a dove.
My mouth moves to speak,
But is suddenly cut short by silence,
Silence in love, silence in fear.
Silence in tears, silence in joy;
And when I'm in this mood,
My silence stands so tall-
Even taller than a giant;
She makes her way; -
Even more than spoken words.
Spoken words of loud emotions,
They meet my silence-
And they tremble in awe.
I could hear those words;
They say to themselves,
'How art silence so mighty? '.
poem by Echezonachukwu Nduka
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The Anonymous Flowers
someone anonymous sends the flowers
all white
and we who receive them are all
in guesses
for whom?
and since we do not know for whom for sure
we leave the flowers
a bouquet of flowers on the table
and no one puts it inside a vase
they all wilt for no one cared
to put water on the leaves
it is like love that you give to everyone
and none in particular
when that love goes away
no one weeps.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Citizen of the World
After so many years of struggling, trying to find my own identity, I finally realize that I am not an alien at all...Since I don't come from another planet! I am a Citizen of the world!
When every morning
The sunset makes its appearance,
In a harmonious ways
And clearly reflecting the spectra on earth,
The flowers dance with great joy
And a new day is born...
The tree's branches shake
As sign of celebration
While the ocean welcomes it
With a bewitching soft breeze...
Magical colors blended in the horizon,
While the birds happily sing
To honor the new day...
New thoughts, ideas and challenges
Awaiting to be uncovered
While every minute
A warm baby's breath
Is welcomed by the world...
Wounds awaiting to be healed,
Pain to be calmed
While children empty stomachs
Patiently wait to be filled,
Oh, those innocent victims
Of man's unholy wars...
I speak no strange language
Since I fluently speak
The language of love
While reflecting on my skin
The colors of the rainbow...
Humbly believing in our creator
Who may be crying or smiling above...
Your pain is my pain
And your joy is mine, too...
For pure love,
There is not substitute
And for hatred there is not justification...
My eyes see through my heart
And we are together
Even when we are apart...
Through times passed,
I have discovered a simple fact:
That whenever there is an ending,
There is also a new beginning,
Leaving the past way back behind
While opening the door for forgiveness
When it is the time to move on...
The beauty of life
Lies in life itself...
To travel, I need no visa or passport,
Since Citizen of the World
I have become...
Now, for the humanity's sake,
Everyday, I pray to the Lord! ...
©All Rights Reserved-2012
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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True Love (Crucifixion)
must true love
always come to crucifixion?
who drives the nails?
who stands at the foot
of the cross and weeps?
who carried the cross?
who conducted the trial?
and who are the faceless ones
who stand and jeer?
who judges life worth giving,
and how much does love demand?
will love forgive?
does love have a name?
who'll bury the body?
who'll guard the tomb?
and on the third day,
who'll roll away the stone?
our journeys together,
wrapped into oneness.
the price of flesh become spirit,
the scars and the moments.
who hangs on this cross,
and who put them there?
do we do it to each other,
or do we do it to ourselves?
and resurrection,
the mere brush of a hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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What Matters Most Is Love And Peace
you keep on saying that
what matters most is love and peace
and then we manage to eke out
a living for ourselves
then what matters
is hunger
we listen to the sound
of our complaining bellies
asking for rice
and fish
because there is only water from the river
odored foul
by these dead mudfishes
now my dear
find me a place where i can sleep
where i can chant
my pleadings to our gods
so they may answer
our little complaints
love and peace you keep saying that
please prove that to me
on this hunger
and poverty
convince
me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain or Shine, It's Divine
The golden fiery eye rises
In the east and sets in the west
And shines for a day in between;
Although at times there may be clouds
That shrouds its penetrating rays
From us, we know its radiance
Is like a god that can’t be seen
But still feel his omnipresence.
And when the heavenly tears fall
From the sky, they are tears of joy
Not to be confused with sadness
For this god is a loving god
That showers all of us with love
Yes, even the nonbelievers.
Rain falls from heaven.
Behind the clouds the sun shines
Patiently in wait.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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I love you more
married you for a silver of years, live with
you in matter of million minutes, dine in glows
of candle, sleep in halloween and christmas eve,
and visited a memorable heart breaking pads,
you come and witness my never ending love of
you
wounded but not hurt, broken yet! never torn
apart, prisoner but never been a slave, looser once
winners, for the heart that surrender, open to give,
without any reserve, but to die in order to live in
the fullness of the heart, that settled down in the
grave of love and mercy
conquering to be strong is leaving with out
pain, for never i’ll go, where you want to stay, live
I not in a distance, for my strength always think of
you and my wings choose to fly only with you, as
the sun rises above and the clouds whisper to say
i do, you will be with me till you stay
now the dream have nurture my joy and the single
dropp of water have saved; it become a sea of
change in your heart, where my soul have born a
heart that loves you forever
take me not in your journey of your life....we are
still on the “yes' not in the “I do ' and my life
will always love you more......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Response To Bernadette Mayer's 'First Turn To Me...
'you appear without notice and with flowers
I fall for it and we become missionaries
we lie together one night, exhausted couplets
and don't make love. does this mean we've had enough? '
- Bernadette Mayer
Failing the Grand Coniunctio
this is the only one we know
the one where we eat dirt
and swallow, are filled and
swell belly up a meal to be
eaten when the Messiah comes
Leviathan is our heavenly bridegroom
presses the banquet table with elbows
manners forsaken in the end
yanks at sallow meat forsaking
the wine which has turned
no First Wedding miracle can
be repeated - no do-overs here
Candles burn on as always, false promises
All the doors are marked EXIT
Still we must try
at the Feast
make small talk
look interested
all the while thinking
This is it?
Angels without knees
aprons spotless starched
as beards of saints
complain of humans
the stains they leave
Overheard
between the fork
and spoon obscenely
crossed
one angel to another:
They call it love
what we are supposed
sublimely to sing of
but frankly all that
pushing and shoving
faces in agony the
cries and curses all
that pulling at flesh
bruised as the moon
this can't be love
We stand without legs
the better for it but
for these we must attend
bent over their plates
greedy to have at each
other again to marriage
beds one last time
And then the singing
begins
an eternity
songs about dirt
about longing to return
how all hurts there
mean something
after all
http: //www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21051
poem by Warren Falcon
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