My Body, Or Yours?
is this my body,
or yours?
whose graven face,
whose broken fingers
numbly buttoning the shirt?
is this distance real?
this taste of ashes and pine...
whose sacrifice,
whose redemption?
what color the night?
the rusted creaking of dawn,
pulls nails from self-made coffins!
what we are,
or what we become...
even the monsters smell familiar!
if love is then a war,
who wins the final battle?
at what price?
and who names the refugees,
walking the dusty road of tribulation?
even darkness has its own chair,
so why am i
painting without a brush?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
What Color? (Hope)
what color
was the dust
from which the stars
were made?
what color is the hunger
written on the child's face?
what color is justice,
forgiveness, desire, truth?
what color is the wind....
the rain, gravity,
and knowledge?
what color is equality?
what color is freedom?
what color is eternity?
what color is redemption?
what color is God?
what color were the nails
that hung Jesus on the cross?
what color was enlightenment
falling on the Buddha as he sat
'neath that tree?
what color is prejudice, hatred,
fear, greed, apathy.....
what color your skin?
nay, what color is your blood?
and what color are the eyes
of humanity staring through the darkness?
and what color is hope?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take This Cup
'take this cup from me,
if it be thy will...'
all of human history vomited
with the pounding of the nails.
sheer agony, heart exposed,
the final will and testament.
the gospel of unbridled compassion,
that the ignorant would wave like swords.
every footprint on the dusty path
that led to the holy city...
contained the face of every child
that time would sacrifice to greed.
Jesus, and mortal hunger,
are but bridge, and markings on the way.
the road that leads to god,
begins and ends in the heart,
and the body given!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monsters Of Mud
Monsters of mud, covered in mud (made of mud)
Monsters of mud (made of mud)
Monsters of mud, covered in mud (repeat six times)
Made of mud, they're made of mud (repeat six times)
(2x)
Look at that mudman
It's disgraceful
Check out the dirt pile
He's got a face full
It's unbelievable, they're walking through the streets of town
They act like people, but they're shapeless, grimy, grey and brown
(Made of mud, they're made of mud) (2x)
It used to be that everyone you'd see was so well scrubbed
Everything's different now, ever since the monsters of mud
Monsters of mud, covered in mud (3x)
Made of mud (3x), they're made of mud
Made of mud, they're made of mud
Look out there's one right there
It freaks me out, It's covered in crud
All of our values have been challenged
by the monsters of mud
Here they slime
There they slouch
On your carpet
On my couch
Mud monsters everywhere
You can't escape the slobbering flood
We couldn't stop them
So we all became the monsters of mud
It's unbelievable, we're walking through the streets of town
We act like people, but we're shapeless, grimy, grey and brown
(Made of mud, they're made of mud)(2x)
It used to be that everyone you'd see was so well scrubbed
Everything's different now, ever since the monsters of mud
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dusty Road
I walk the line, look straight ahead
A second chance, one slip and its gone
Though the bird has flown, the sands of time stand still
Scars that never heal, wounds you always feel
Keep on walking that dusty road, blinded by the flame
Keep on walking that dusty road, never giving in
A single light, you hold your breath
Your heart beats fast, a skin that burns
Maybe the tide has turned, one goal you know is near
And wish of a thousand nights, voices you always hear
So keep on walking that dusty road, blinded by the flame
Keep on walking that dusty road, never giving in
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiny Cities Made Of Ashes
Were going down the road to tiny cities made of ashes
Im going to hit you on the face
Im going to punch you in your glasses, oh no
I just got a message that said
Yeah, hell has frozen over.
I got a phone call from the lord saying,
Hey boy, get a sweater, right now.
So were drinkin drinkin drinkin drinkin coca coca cola
I can feel it rolling right on down
Oh right on down my throat now
As were headed down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes
Im gonna get dressed up in plastic
Gonna shake hands with the masses, oh no!
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
Does anybody know a way?
Were going down the road to tiny cities made of ashes
Im going to hit you on the face
Im going to punch you in your glasses
Im wearing myself a t-shirt that says
The world is my ashtray
Our hearts pump dust and our hairs all grey
And I just got a message that said
Yeah, hell has frozen over.
I got a phone call from the lord saying,
Hey boy, get a sweater, right now!
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
Does anybody know a way?
Were drinkin drinkin drinkin drink coca coca cola
I can feel it rolling right on down
Oh right on down my throat
As were headed down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes
Im going to lay down (at the spa? ) where they coat you in molasses
Right now!
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
Does anybody know a way?
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A lonely road is that i walked
I walk a lonely road, the one and only one I' ve ever known.
I don't know where it goes, but I keep walking on and on.
I walked the lonely and un trodden road for I was walking on the bridge
of the broken dreams.
I don't know what the world is fighting for or why iam being insticated.
It's for this that I walk this lonely road for I wish to be
ALONE!
So Iam breaking up, breakin' up.
It is the lack of self control that I feared as there is something
Inside me that pulls the need to surface, consuming, confusing.
being called Weird I walk this lonely road for on the verge of broken dreams.
And so i walk this lonely road and so just keep walking still
poem by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mystery Written
it is the mystery written
in the bed of pine needles,
in the broken branch,
in the bad place in the road.
in the hours between 3 and 4 in the morning,
when the spirit grieves itself with prayer.
in the cool of the darkness,
in the window cracked.
in the homeless dog's eyes,
as he stands in the road.
in the box unopened for twenty years,
in the eviction notice,
and the lights cut off.
in the kerosene heater,
and potatoes strewn in the cellar.
in the tear in the sheet,
in worn out shoes.
in love lost in waiting,
adrift, searching for a light.
in the answer that smells like dawn,
and the smell of strong coffee!
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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What I Am To You
you want to forget me, brush me aside like some thing that you have no use of,
like a broken comb
or a shampoo wrapper
or a used toothpaste, and for all the other reasons that you may conceive
i perfectly understand it
the words we use shall tell exactly what logic wants us to portray
a broken monument
shattered pieces of glass
a stone thrown away
a used clothing where my smell may shout a very sweet memory
of us
a perfume that someone sprayed on the body
a body
a hand
a nose
lips and face and caressing fingers, the fate of all these shall lie
on the judgment of the brain
we tell them to go away we tell them to hide themselves
to forget
but look at them
they all refuse
they are still you and forgetting seems to be illogical
they have become some parts of you
and destroying them has become impossible
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man Of The Hour
tidal waves don't beg forgiveness
crash, then on their way
father, he enjoyed collisions
others walked away
the snowflake falls in may
and the doors are open now
as the bells are ringing out
cuz the man of the hour
has taken his final bow
goodbye for now
nature has its own religion
gospel from the land
father ruled by long division
young men, they pretend
old men comprehend
and the sky breaks at dawn
shedding light upon this town
we all come 'round
cuz the man of the hour
has taken his final bow
goodbye for now
and the road, the old men paved
the broken seams along the way
the rusted signs, they're just for me
he was guiding me, love, his own way
now the man of the hour
has taken his final bow
as the curtain comes down
i feel that this is just
goodbye for now
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Every Dawn
there is a moment just before darkness,
when every sound is amplified.
when the senses come alive,
and smell and taste take bodies.
when the eyes see, really see,
and there be no more need for words.
when memories like trees walk into stillness,
and the heart names every stone.
when the butterfly becomes the teacher,
and the dew is strong drink indeed.
when scars and bruises put on their jewelry,
and the soul becomes the earth.
when clouds come like ghostly chariots,
and the sun tips its hat in farewell.
when every battle is forgotten,
and every truth etched in time.
when nothing is left but love itself,
to wrap the night in eternity.
now timeless and without borders,
the simple man has but one request.
bury me beneath the willow,
and listen for my footsteps in every dawn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ugly Paint
crack
in the brush,
slice the line and tamper
the bold corner,
waste of time, comes
no regret of it fingers tips,
swollen thumb
with tailing nails of broken pieces
of color
folded
join together
and faded brightness of
Red and Green,
scattered Indigo pamper
the shape and form,
ugly as the skin touches the smooth
face of beautiful picture
of tomorrow's gone,
the guided stream of lines, blacken by its
careless hands of
touch
Yes!
a lasting way of just
an ugly paint,
pattern on me, cover and let the rain
of adoration of search for
an easily hurt get
of deception of hope; something
smarter than
a little boy and girl stand and push
beyond the paint of gain and grain of
whole
pieces of sweat,
pattern makes every paint seems ugly,
yet! it makes sense in me;
sphere revealing
painting you have been long leads
my home,
of what is today and the future
of my day paint goes on,
as the color
printed with its style and let
every passers-bye
says a sweet
good bye …..
poem by Antonio Liao
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What The Moon Does to You
at night the moon simply does
what is expected from it naturally
as you stand
it is showing you
your own
shadow
afraid that you may see the whole
truth
which in some details may be
gory
it simply casts you
in the general view
of a man from
a distance
a silhouette
with fingers less the nails
a face
without eyes
nerves
lifted from the darkness
of your skin
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Praying For Emptiness!
walking barefoot down the streets
of the holy city...
listening to the sounds,
the whimper, the cry, and the roar...
praying for emptiness....
the clock beats in rhythm
with the sidewalks and the walls.
the smell of burnt flesh
hangs in the air....
'Jesus Saves' painted on a fence....
oil rigs and chemical sprays,
fields filled with unmarked graves.
windows broken, doors sway, rusted hinges,
cars abandoned, vacant buildings,
dead bodies, eyes lost stare!
the spirits of the children
sing haunting and low...
words pierce like nails,
the birds hear and weep....
a hand gun, a needle, half pack of smokes....
nobody saves the night from the dawn!
praying for emptiness...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Welcome To My Hell
Broken bones.
All alone.
Scream but nothing comes out.
Shouts falling on deaf ears.
They don't care, they don't care.
A soul filled despair.
Theirs a chill in air.
The end is near.
Your body just disappears.
Where did you go?
Nobody knows.
Dust upon your clothes.
Surrounded by absolute darkness.
Blood dripping from your head.
A fall into the deep.
A life so precious.
Yet it can be so meaningless.
So much yet you wanted to do, but their is no more time.
Lock and buried deep inside.
Making marks with your nails.
Cracking them one by one.
A body torn apart.
A arm ripped out of its socket.
Are you praying for your heavenly depart?
As you lye in wait of that which isn't coming.
What do you think about in your last moments?
Are you spiteful to the very end?
Are you one that cries?
Are you one too pray for forgiveness of all your sins?
Are you one that looks up to the sky?
Will the answers ever come?
Will this ever be done?
Is it all a dream?
So real, from touch, to taste, to smell.
Only sight is lost in the place you dwell.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tips
The Tips of your Body
Need my Fingers...
As much as
My Fingers
Need the Touch
of your Lips,
The Brush of your
Nipples,
And the Caresses of
Love, Pain and Pleasure
Down There...
In the Creases and Folds
of your Throbbing Tip
And the Invigorating
Sweaty Smell of your
Derriere.
Wanna Make Wild Love To You
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Lone Pine
Lone Pine! Lone Pine! Our hearts are numbly aching
For those who come no more,
Our boys who sleep the sleep that knows no waking,
Besides the Dardan’s shore.
Through all the years, with glory sad and sombre,
Their names will deathless shine;
No bugle call can wake them from their slumber:
Lone Pine! Lone Pine!
They did not quail, they did not pause or ponder,
They counted not the odds;
The order came, the foe were waiting yonder,
The rest was with the gods.
Forth from their trenches at the signal leaping,
They charged the Turkish line,
And death charged too, a royal harvest reaping,
Lone Pine! Lone Pine!
Nought could withstand that onrush, backward
driven,
The foemen broke and fled.
poem by Edward Harrington
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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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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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Dirt Road Pome
Dirt red road in the evening sun
the rattlesnake stretched
and twards the sky
flickers a forked tongue
I stop and the snake curls up
walking on the bridge
streaming creeky river runs lazy
in the orange leaf and lily path
The bridge is strong
and well built
old nails driven by old handled hammers
and old wrinkle wise confident hands
On the evening side
the rabbit hides
well, i know
it's the dark that licks it's way past
the snake stretched scaly
cold blood and forgiving
all he wants
is the last bit
of the warm Alabama sunlight
Night falls down slowly
on a slinky little road
some distance from the rattler
and his low lie
lonliness
In the cricket reprise
they change a few notes
and I welcome the new feel
the night, she pulls her pants down
and she shows it to me
the night she is fantastic
and she's a crazy wind
this night out here in insects and denial
that anything better exists.
poem by Jeffrey Quattlebaum
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