Poverty (Colors Of Rage)
poverty wears all
the colors of rage....
vibrant, raw, aching,
souls ripped from the flesh
by forces unseen....
worn like scars....
on the face of God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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O' Murderous Poverty
O' poverty, thou hast made man prostrate his soul for repast
Thou hast made him swallow the bitter pills of living
Yet thou sing songs of death to his hearing
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.
In thy bosom cometh suffering, pains and sorrows
Thou taketh delight when the world's burden heaped upon man
Man toil in vain for subsistence from sunrise to sunset
Yet thou castigate him with thy unseen wand
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.
Man roams about the street with no shoes for his feet
And with no vest upon his already worn out bones
Having his repast from the table crumbs of other folks
Not certain of where the next crumbs of survival cometh
Yet you castigate him with thy unseen wand
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.
His offspring sick and pale then die ere his face
His heart become a place where dirge and elegy meet
And he ask 'Poverty, why thou puncture the tube of my happiness?
Why art thou the architect of man's sorrows and grieves'.
Yet thou castigate him with thy unseen wand
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel, cruel, cruel even fiend.
poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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Buddha Steps # 7
take all of your clothes off!
stand in front of a long mirror.
there you are!
no costumes, no makeup, no lies.
just you.
greying, wrinkled, toes and fingers
bent;
shadows under your eyes,
bruised, and worn.
there you are!
in all the beauty
of years and scars.
breathing, aching, just being.
lifetimes and stories written
in human flesh, and hope.
beauty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Scars
We all have scars.
Some visible and some hidden to the world.
We sometimes try to hide the physically scars because we think it is ugly,
but really having scars is not a bad thing.
It reminds us we can heal and get through the bad times both physically and mentally when we are ripped or torn apart.
So embrace you scars and keep on healing.
For healing and battling is a part of life.
Let people see your scars and how strong you are by healing.
poem by Christina J. Williams
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The Shadow Inside My Shadow
poverty is not my cousin,
is not my lover,
is not my preacher,
poverty is not my brother.
poverty is not my prayer,
or the song that i sing
is not my answer
poverty is not my dream.
poverty is not my teacher,
not the hand that i hold.
poverty is not my anger,
not my spirit, not my soul.
ah! but this poverty is real
it races thru my mind
crashes into my heart,
& leaves me deaf and blind.
poverty is my companion.
the aching cold inside my hollow.
the blow behind my eyes,
poverty is the shadow
inside my shadow.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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By The Light
Destiny, feel disgrace.
I'm the one that's fallen.
I'm the one in pain.
I'm the one that's going.
Forces decay in pain, by the light.
The suffer is cold.
There's colors
Searing his face.
Drifting through the sorrow.
The visions yet display.
It strips the soul completely empty.
Sirens rage in vain.
Drifting through the sadness.
Violence fills the sky.
Torturing, the voice rang out.
My servants they are blind, by the light.
Suffer is cold.
There's colors
Searing his face.
By the light.
By the light.
By the light.
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stains Bleached Bleeds
Stains bleached bleeds!
Colors vibrant gone from fabric.
Jealousies worn too tight,
And uncomforting.
A brightness dulls.
The quality of a freshness,
Is removed.
A renovation does not improve,
But diminishes the knit!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Whose Souls Are Saved
Whose souls are saved,
When invaders arrive...
To crush, divide and slaughter?
How brave are they,
Who succeed against the defenseless,
Left wounded with futures diminished.
Beginning missions without a finish!
Only interests in resources,
Empower those in armored forces.
Producing movements to incite genocide...
With heartless eyes and deaf to cries!
Whose souls are saved?
Who gives them the right to decide...
Whose life is worth living,
And which ones must die!
Invisible now are those shields that hide.
Rising from unseen dimensions...
Crazing those with rage!
Leaving debated battles on all sides.
Delighting in blood fields where they bathe!
Whose souls are saved?
Could they be of those,
Who choose to parade their evil ways?
Those expecting victory...
Yet perceiving themselves left to question,
Why they've been 'stung'...
With just hollow praises to raise!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Stink
the stink...
human excrement,
starving mouths,
skeleton bodies...
breath short and aching.
blood on the hands,
violent scars that tremble,
in the darkest night,
burning out of control.
hatred fear,
that drives and shatters.
the grip on the cup,
broken, and shaking.
hot love molten,
howl, and moan...
the stars in the sky,
falling like hot knives!
silent prayers,
tongues ripped from mouths,
that move like fish,
praying to the water.
feet walking through mud,
hands covered in ashes.
human hearts beating,
souls rotting with desire!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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You Are (Not Alone)
the stink on your breath,
is poverty...
the blood on your lips,
human blood...
the scars on your hands
match the scars
on your heart...
you are not alone,
you are not alone....
the only true value
is the value of a human being.
all true actions
come from the point of dignity.
holiness, not aloof or afar,
human flesh, breath, and bones...
you are not alone,
you are not alone...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Orgy
A disease is under my fingernails
It stains me like a tattoo
Back on the rack
Aching w/ time
Your face is familiar
From another crime
And we could swim, we could swim
My little fishes and me
Overgrown senses prickle + spark
The flesh is in the palm of my hand
Back on the rack
Love under will
Your face is familiar
From another kill
A tongue explodes into my mouth
A taste of coma and tears
Back on the rack
My shape of rage
Your face is familiar
From another cage
And we could swim...
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Redemption
Four A.M., two hours to go
I'm wearing out a lonely glow
I miss you more than I could know
Here I am, here I am
I've got my hand in redemption's side
These scars are bigger than these doubts of mine
I'll fit all of these monstrosities inside
and I'll come alive
With my fist down at your feet
I was running out of mysteries
Insecure and incomplete, here I am, here I am,
won't you get me?
My fears have worn me out
My fears have worn me out
My fears have worn me, worn me
song performed by by Switchfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Picture Of Colors
A picture of colors
A purple forest of colors
A balloon of colors
A blue fantasy of colors
This is what our planet should be
A whirlwind of colors
A white world of colors
A resting place of colors
A red hideaway of colors
This is what it should look like
A ‘yes' world of colors
A yellow rainbow of colors
A graced hill of colors
A green meadow of colors
An overflowing basket of colors
An orange bowl of colors
This would be a perfect place
God's Humor
lying on the ground
only hearing the sound
of my beating heart
with flesh ripped apart
screaming out in pain
sounds get muffled by the rain
veins can be seen
a knife stabbed in ur spleen
blood dripping on the floor
i don't wanne live no more
take my soul away
u start to pray
to the sun, rain or air
or to one that doesn't care
with all thats done to you
u get picked up for round two
sliced flesh everywhere
does ur god even care
ur in so much pain
let me pierce ur brain
finaly it's over u think
then u get a wink
from the sun, rain or air
i'll let u live in despair
with scars everywhere
to show u... i do care
poem by Paddy Jansen
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Poverty-I
Lot of hunger and having no food is poverty,
Not having spare cloth to take bath is poverty,
Needing a shelter but not having one is poverty,
Child's sick but can not buy treatment, is poverty,
Fainting child dreaming a mouthful of rice is poverty
Searching warmth in cold flesh in winter nights, is poverty,
Sitting with umbrella on wetting bed in showering night, is poverty,
Thoughtful mother, two mouthful of rice and three children, is poverty,
An ill, deserted mother selling her child wishing it will survive, is poverty.
A defeated and desponded mother poisoning and killing her child is poverty,
.
.
posted on 31-07-2008
Copyright ©®2008, Palas Kumar Ray. All rights reserved.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
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This Sunset
The sunset
Vibrant, bright
Full of colors
Just before night
Deep red, violet purple
The colors fairly
Glow with beauty
This night, I say verily,
It is truly a wonderful
Sight
Spiritual Realm
Friend, what your eyes cannot see, for all this world is a reality,
A spiritual plane above the sky, that stretches down to you and I.
Though God reigns high above, He reaches down with His love,
Into this world as dark as night, He reaches down with His Light.
Upon the earth is a darker realm, one with a dragon at the helm,
The prince and power of the air, who leads this world to despair.
But some men just don’t believe, or they simply cannot conceive,
A spiritual world of an evil kind, vying for a man’s heart and mind.
Darker forces invading this life, filling men’s hearts with evil strife,
Forces opposing God’s Only Son; darkened forces of an evil one,
Filling men with hate and pride, to oppose God’s Lamb who died.
What other reason would you say, would make men act this way?
The enemy’s not flesh and blood, but dark spiritual forces above,
Once God’s cherished cherubim, now leads men to death by sin.
Lucifer, cast to earth by God, now leads rebellion where we trod,
As forces of Satan’s evil might, oppose God’s Pure Eternal Light.
Battles our eyes just cannot see, over men’s souls for all eternity,
Satan wanting the souls of men, lost in sin, eternally condemned,
Knowing the battle’s already won, through the cross of God’s Son.
Since his destiny is certain friend, Satan wants Hell to be your end.
(Copyright ©10/2006)
Flesh For A Fantasy
There's a change in pace
Of fantasy and taste
Do you like good music?
Do you like to dance? Oh yeah.
Hangin' out for a body shop at night
Ain't it strange what we do to feel alright? Oh yeah.
So when will you call?
I'm experienced Oh yeah
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
It's after midnight
Are you feelin' alright oh yeah
Turn on the light, babe
Are you someone else tonight?
Neighbour to neighbour, door to door
Don't ask questions, there's time for it all Oh yeah.
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
I sing for culture...
Father loves his son,
Mothers, daughters, too.
It's an old old story,
Cries the new world too.
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
You cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flesh For Fantasy
Theres a change in pace
Of fantasy and taste
Do you like good music?
Do you like to dance? oh yeah.
Hangin out for a body shop at night
Aint it strange what we do to feel alright? oh yeah.
So when will you call?
Im experienced oh yeah
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
Its after midnight
Are you feelin alright oh yeah
Turn on the light, babe
Are you someone else tonight?
Neighbour to neighbour, door to door
Dont ask questions, theres time for it all oh yeah.
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
I sing for culture...
Father loves his son,
Mothers, daughters, too.
Its an old old story,
Cries the new world too.
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
You cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Magic of Poverty
A birth in poverty is luck supreme!
A death in poverty, a great blessing;
A life of poverty is rare a dream;
Achievements great, stark poverty can bring.
’Tis poverty that goads nations do feats;
’Tis poverty that stimulates scientists;
In everything, poverty, wealth just beats;
The greatest men were in poverty’s lists.
And poverty lessens our worries much;
Account to God will be much easier;
Poverty gives the saint a divine touch;
In poverty, poets can fly higher!
Poverty helps to shun worldly pleasures;
A soul in poverty, Heaven allures.
9-14-2002
poem by John Celes
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The Aching of Old Age
THE ACHING OF OLD AGE
The aching of old age
Knows it will not go away
It is part of the life now
Aching is like breathing always here
Whether attended to or not
The aching of old age
Will not go away
It will accompany one all the way to the grave
Perhaps this is what it is ultimately for
To teach us that which we dreaded all these years
Has its most real meaning only in
Ending the aching forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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