Scar Tissue, And Rust!
scar tissue, and rust...
dust long standing
in the corner by the bed.
fingerprints on the pane
of the window unopened.
soot on the hands
that tended the last fire.
the lone bullet in the chamber,
the tongue swollen, and parched.
scriptures written on
the bandages of the wounded
and dying....
will the preacher say a few words
as the people bow their heads?
the skies promise rain,
and the last wind is still!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Rain Keeps Fallin
I remember the night so well.
The rain was fallin but I just couldnt tell,
If it was you that was callin to my love-sick brain.
But the rain kept fallin on my window pane.
Out of the night the thunder rang in my ear.
I cant fight the feelin, lord, that brings forth my fears.
I wish it was over, lord, please stop the rain.
The rain thats fallin on my window pane.
The rain thats fallin on my window pane.
Every night the rains on time, I can feel it in this heart of mine.
But I dont know what to do.
Well, I guess I could go back home, cause you know back home is where I belong.
But it just aint home without you.
And I dont know what to do, baby.
Well, I guess Im a looser but it just dont seem fair.
I lost all my life so tell me, why should I care?
The night that you left me is the night that it came.
And the rains still fallin on my window pane.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain ...
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
... keeps right on fallin.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said, the rain keeps fallin ...
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bhakti Path (Memory Of God)
if you think the wind
comes from nowhere
with no reason...
you are a fool!
your scriptures
are the ashes
of a fire long dead!
the bodies of those
you have killed
by your choices...
a sacrifice to your god!
you cannot deny
the blood on your hands,
the soot on your faces...
cannot muffle the cry
of babies unwanted!
holiness, pus,
semen, and sweat...
the hands on the shovel
that digs the shallow graves!
the wind prophesies,
with the memory of God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sometimes I am amazed of the magic that is done
It all started with something insignificant
Like dust,
Sticking on a window pane, and I want it
Dusted off, it is dirt, it is unwanted,
And I do not even know what to do next
About such
Insignificance and feelings of simply
Trying to get rid of dust immediately,
But then, I begin to think about this
Dust, this me, this dust in me,
Some dusts on my feet, some dusts on
My forehead, and some dusts in my ears,
Some dusts in my eyes so obstructive
Of what I really am, and I know what to do next,
The bulb lighting in my head in a sudden,
I touch the dust,
I feel the dust with my fingers, and I am crazy enough
I taste the dust on my window pane,
And I shiver,
I am shaking to its taste, the taste of nothingness
If was from dust that I really come,
I now remember,
It will be to dust that I shall return,
I am now reminded,
And the dust that I used to see
As dirt, as something so insignificant, is now,
A magical patch, glistening, so filled with meaning,
I am nothing but dust; I am biting the dust,
I am very insignificant, in that window pane, at first.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Will It Rain
No one ever sees you cry
You just keep it all inside
In a warm place, where you can hide
When will it rain
When will it rain
I saw you laugh the other day
But all too fast it went away
Now your skys cloudy n gray
Falling mainly on the plain
When will it rain
When will it rain
No water fallls
Down your window pane
And when I look into your eyes
That window to your soul cant lie
Theres water where the well went dry
So how long can there be a drought
When your dams filled with doubt
No place to build your house
Let your cup runneth over and out
I said for crying out loud
When will it rain
When will it rain
No water fallls
Down your window pane
When will it rain
When will it rain
A tear for fear is calling out your name
Rain on me
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Box Of Rain
Look out of any window, any morning, any evening, any day.
Maybe the sun is shining, birds are singing,
No rain is falling from a heavy sky.
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
For this is all a dream we dreamed one afternoon, long ago.
Walk out of any doorway, feel your way, feel your way like the day before.
Maybe youll find direction,
Around some corner where its been waiting to meet you.
What do you want me to do, to watch for you while you are sleeping?
The please dont be surprised when you find me dreaming too.
Look into any eyes you find by you, you can see clear to another day,
Maybe been seen before, through other eyes on other days while going home.
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
Its all a dream we dreamed one afternoon, long ago.
Walk into splintered sunlight,
Inch your way through dead dreams to another land.
Maybe youre tired and broken,
Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken and thoughts unclear
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
A box of rain will ease the pain, and love will see you through.
Just a box of rain, wind and water,
Sun and shower, wind and rain,
In and out the window like a moth before a flame.
And its just a box of rain, I dont know who put it there,
Believe it if you need it, or leave it if you dare.
And its just a box of rain, or a ribbon for your hair;
Such a long long time to be gone, and a short time to be there.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flyleaf-Cassie(lyrics)
Flyleaf_Cassie(lyrics)
The question asked in order
To save her life or take it
The answer no to avoid death
The answer yes would make it
Make it
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger
All heads are bowed in silence
To remember her last sentence
She answered him knowing what would happen
Her last words still hanging in the air
In the air
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
And Rachael pulled the trigger
How many will die
I will die
I, I will say yes
And Cassie pulled the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on the bullet
And Rachael pulled the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on the bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Do you believe in God?
Do you believe in God?
And I will pull the trigger
poem by Alexandria Rios
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If You Need Scriptures....
if you need scriptures,
read the scriptures written
on the walls of your soul!
read the scriptures written
in trees, in rocks, in rivers.
read the scriptures written
in the broken alley.
in the homeless man's eyes,
in the addict's desperation,
in the shuffle of jobless feet.
in the cry of the newborn baby,
in the lovers moan of fulfillment,
the scriptures written
in the sweet darkness of night,
in the jail cell,
in the picket line,
in the monk who sets himself
on fire for freedom and justice,
in all the colors of equality...
in the hungry child's hand reaching out...
read them, know them, be them!
life testifies to the living!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Spontaneous Electricity (The Wetness)
walking through the wetness,
rain falling softly.
the rhythm of the wipers,
the trees bow to the wind.
you and i, the sweat and the tears,
one hollow, the other echoes,
one fire, the other darkness kneeling,
identities merged, then torn apart...
ghostlike faces at the window,
children turn, and walk away.
the long silence deepens,
death waits just beyond and before.
mountains carved in forever skies,
crumble, ground to dust by time.
and no less we, dust to dust,
the great sweeper sweeps away our memory.
love was the answer, and sometimes not.
the cross and the thorns, the stolen moment.
now there's nothing left to talk about,
and nothing more to do or feel...
walking through the wetness,
i called the rain by your name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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40 Past Midnight
Well Im waiting standing on the corner
And its coming 40 past the hour
In the midnight lonely freezing hour
With my insides churning in the gutter
And Im waiting 40 past midnight
Catching rain in the soda light
Wont you come & call me to your window
Please dont leave me waiting on the corner
We could have the best time if you lighten up your life
With my pockets holey in the inside
With my bus ride rolling in the gutter
But if you would only light your lamp ligh
Then I would be here than any other
Well Im waiting 40 past midnight
Catching cold in the pouring rain
Wont you come & take me to your door
So I can take myself home again
When Im waiting standing on the corner
And the soda light begins to flicker
And its getting 40 past the hour
And I think I wont see what I figure
Well Im waiting freezing on the inside
Staring up at your window pane
If you wont come see me this evening
I can see myself here again
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rain and the Wind
The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain --
They are with us like a disease:
They worry the heart, they work the brain,
As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane,
And savage the helpless trees.
What does it profit a man to know
These tattered and tumbling skies
A million stately stars will show,
And the ruining grace of the after-glow
And the rush of the wild sunrise?
Ever the rain -- the rain and the wind!
Come, hunch with me over the fire,
Dream of the dreams that leered and grinned,
Ere the blood of the Year got chilled and thinned,
And the death came on desire!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Window Pain
As I sit here looking at the rain staring through my window pane I feel just sorrow and no glee sometimes I feel there's nothing left inside of me As I sit here staring through the window pane looking out towards the rain hoping the sun will make me change knowing how much I hate this pain. The sun came out but I did not change in once again came back the rain in so I sit here knowing it doesn't matter if its sun or rain the pain I feel will never change and once again I'm alone to stare at the rain sitting here looking through my window pane.
poem by ryan Robletto
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I probably carry more scar tissue on my derrire than any other candidate-that's political scar tissue.
quote by Alexander Meigs Haig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All I Needed Was The Rain
(words & music by ben weisman - sid wayne )
Hello misfortune, hows my old friend mr. misery?
Ive been away so long I bet you think you saw the last of me
Got no bed, to rest my head
No doors or walls or window pane
Now all I needed was the rain
Rain, rain, rain, rain
Met a little honey at the buzzin bumble bee cafe
Yes I did
One drink and all my money and that honey bee had flown away
Im bout as low, as I can go
I dont really mean to complain
Now all I needed was the rain
Rain, rain...rain..rain
All I needed was this rain...
All I needed was the rain...um..um.....
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain On The Window
Round about midnight
I feel the chill closin in
Living my stage fright
I need the sun to begin - tomorrow
Thinking bout my life
And all the changes she made
And when she went running out
All the colors fade - to midnight
What a bad week Ive had
Theres rain on the window
What a bad week Im sad
Theres rain on my window
Will I be staying
Or am I moving in
Am I still standing
Ive gotta wait - shes choosing
* what a bad week Ive had
Theres rain on the window
What a bad week Im sad
Theres rain on the window
When the sun comes up
It dries that rain on the window
When the sun comes up
It dries that rain on the window
When the sun comes up
It dries that rain on the window
Repeat *
(written and arranged by nazareth)
Copyright 1983 fool circle limited
All rights reserved.
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Thirteenth Street Bus
god died...
nothing else unusual about the day.
the Thirteenth Street bus was late again,
people passed each other walking heads down.
when the bus finally arrived,
no one was there.
old Mr. Peterson and his crippled wife,
were nowhere to be seen.
three hours earlier...
an angry young man sat alone,
hugging his knees and shaking,
in an empty room neath a bare light bulb.
unable to focus or think,
peeling back the layers of hell...
consumed by the rage of need.
old Mr. Peterson made the coffee,
and boiled water for oatmeal.
two creams and a sugar,
and he took a cup,
to his wife still lying in bed.
he felt the faint smile of the wrinkled face,
birds just outside the window were singing..
45 years, or maybe yesterday,
he didnt know or care anymore.
the enraged young man
caught Mr. Peterson in the kitchen,
and cracked his skull with a lead pipe.
he rifled his pockets for what he could get,
and started slamming through drawers.
Mrs. Peterson hobbled in on her walker,
he stabbed her with a kitchen knife...
and left her dying on the floor,
as he pillaged the house....
the birds were silent as he ran.
when the police burst through the door,
it was already too late.
his body hung in an empty closet,
while the radio blared in stark despair.
crumpled clothes in the corner,
a mattress unmade in the center of the room.
a food stamp card and a dirty needle,
an unopened letter from the unemployment office.
a lone picture on a stack of boxes,
taken three years earlier...
the young man in his military uniform,
the day he came home from Iraq.
three funerals on the same day,
no one attended either.
a borrowed preacher in a coffee stained suit,
a few words and a worn out prayer.
it began to rain, and it was over,
three lives that never were.
three short paragraphs in the newspaper,
the county picked up the tab.
god died...
or maybe we died,
passing behind blacked out windows.
standing behind indifferent curtains,
lips moving but never speaking.
the Thirteenth Street bus was on time that day,
but it didnt even bother to stop!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Broken Promises
Summer and smoke, diamonds and dust
Go where you will, do what you must
The promise was made, your word was enough
We had dreams, visions and plans
Into the night, out of our hands
Letting our passion fulfill our demands
I remember those songs on the radio
The jasmine, the wind in your hair
Does it seem like so long ago?
*broken promises
Is it written in stone that we wind up alone
Wo oh, broken promises
And a heart that recalls
When the promise was all that we had*
Into the dust, reckless we rode
Secret desire, talking in code
Bittersweet madness, the stories unfold
I remember those songs on the radio
The jasmine, the wind in your hair
And how it hurts to remember those
( * repeat)
song performed by by Survivor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain On The Window
(hicks / clarke / nash)
When I hear pitter-patter the rain on the window
Reminds of her
When I hear pitter-patter the rain on the window
It was raining hard
The trees looked bare the night I met her
She was wet her hands were cold
The wind blew through her hair
Though Id known her quite a long time
We were just good friends
So it didnt seem so strange
Inviting her back home
We sat by the fire
The flames brought out something in her
Melting all the cold
Projecting warmth I never knew
As the rain beat on my window
Did she understand
That in the glow of dying embers
Everything was planned
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
We made love later on that night
While the rain beat on my window
I cant forget the things that happened
While the rain beat down on my window
Next time I saw her
I knew she didnt want to know me
If I disappointed her
I think she should have told me
Cant she understand
I only tried to be a man
She made me feel so ashamed
Of everything I am
When I hear pitter-patter
The rain on the window
Reminds of her
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Had A Window Full Of Rain
closed down rumbling beating hard
Glass arrayed cold warmth untouched
Sorrowful frigid sterile surface glide in
Unopened crumbling crackling water sobs
And then a child a child came in
Looked at the window rumbling beating loud
It said ‘It looks like magic
Those racing drops and this rhythm blast
Restless trembling leaking down
Wow it’s a window full of steam
I think I will draw it a smile
I think I will draw it a heart
I think I’ll make it
A happy window pane
A laughing window pane.’
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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God, Give Us Rain!
The fields are parched;
The wells are dry;
And people cannot even cry!
Birds chirp no more;
Leafless are trees;
The wind is hot; so's the breeze!
The sun scorches;
Prevails viral disease;
The dam hasn't water to release!
Riparian states have gone to war,
With words of hate pouring from hearts;
Friends turn foes as dharna, strike starts!
This year the drought
Has been severe;
But people need water that's dear!
Each day, the farmers gaze
Upwards onto the sky,
And wish that they did better die!
God give us rain;
Life can't go on if unopened
Remain the flood-gates of Heaven!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-10-12
poem by John Celes
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Walk The Path In Stillness
walking barefoot...
down alleys dark,
while children play
with garbage and broken glass.
past unlocked doors,
through buildings spent,
left for ghosts and tribal memories.
past walls charred by sweat and time,
left to smolder with empty ache....
to the time before the time before,
when living had a name.
under war torn skies,
over bodies strewn,
and left for birds of prey.
down dusty roads,
holding a child's dark hands,
in shadows anguished pain.
the skies aflame,
as if stars died, and every veil is rent.
to the sound of freedom's hungered drums,
and shadowed wings beating fury.
to the barren room,
the mattress on the floor,
frost upon the pane.
where lovers turned upon the spit,
with bodies made of water.
eyes wide open, living thrust,
tongues tracing maps to destiny.
the hardened cock,
buried in soul's wet lips,
while angels silently prayed.
and the candle burned
till the break of dawn,
and moonlight's final kiss...
the barren room of the empty house,
where eternity revealed!
the field once plowed
has now turned brown...
sparrows pick at the dust.
and scriptures written
in hickory rust,
whispers lost to sound!
battles fought, and flags laid down,
cover caskets that wait for dirt.
the little girl's shoe, the old washtub,
the broken pot beneath the window.
while dogs bark, and ants converse,
and hearts are covered with snow.
the faces of god fade into wood,
stacked and thrown into the fire.
be it dream, be it madness,
or the simple turning of the wheel...
the wind turns with a final kiss,
bare feet walk the path in stillness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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