En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Silence Is Not (For Hune)

silence is not...
the absence of sound,
but sound stripped naked and pure!

the thunderous crash of the acorn,
to the ground that startles the squirrel,
and freezes him with fear!

the squeak of the old spicket,
wailing for the water to rise,
from the dead bones of time.

the moan of dead bones,
returning back to dust,
as if sexual release.

and the prayers of the trees,
who see our foolishness,
and weep!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Dead Or Alive

There in the shadows, looks like a hand
Without its owner, to give it a command
Its got a purpose but I dont know what it is
Im in trouble
There in the streets, looks like a man
But something wrong that I dont understand
His eyes are open but he dont see a thing
His skin is peeling off, his bones are sticking out
Im getting scared
Oh my God (is it dead? )
Is it living? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
(is it dead? ), is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
Hiding in the cupboards, like little mice
Hiding in the frigerator, that isnt nice
Its not an animal, it dont have legs
No one else can see it
It moves so fast, corner of my eye
Look again its gone, its hiding
Wont somebody help me, doesnt anybody care?
It waits so patiently, for me to lose my guard
Im getting scared
Is it dead, is it
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead or alive
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead, is it
I remember there was a time
When dead and buried meant just that
Underneath the cold dark ground
Things stay put!
Oh them bones they make them bodies walk
Them bones, them bones
If they could only talk!
Is it dead (fade)

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Thunderous Snow!

thunderous snow,
born o'er dark silent mountains;
the final prayer,

the last turn of the plow.
air frozen and heavy,
the wind shakes the bones,

the bare trees wait,
naked, and obedient.
time come and gone,

the memory of a kiss fades
into the deep stillness,
and the sleep of the soul.

cries of passion lost,
in the darkness so deep,
that ending and beginning are one!

the hunter stares,
his shadow twisted by moonlight,
the faint taste of flesh,

dried blood on his lips.
a few flurries, a drumbeat,
the wolf howls, no sound!

stillness wraps around fire,
the fields pray empty prayers.
thunderous snow,

love, and cosmos!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Buried Alive

[Venom cover]
I'm alive but dead, awake but asleep
As friend gather round and mourners they weep
My mind thinks of all the things I have done
My body is cold but my heart beat goes on
And on................and on
As they lower me down into that hole in the ground
I scream out for help but they hear not a sound
I fear at the lid, my fingers they bleed
Is this happening to me or is it just a dream
Summon the dead..........
Baphomets call...........
Blood on my hands........
"Let me out of here"
My bones are decayed, my flesh it doth rot
I'm lying in silk, take the lid off this box
My lungs gasp for air, my eyes scream for sight
I promise the rise of my body this night
Summon the dead..........
Baphomets call...........
Blood on my hands........
Screaming in torment.....
I'm felling you all......
Take heed of my plea.....
Answer my call...........
I'm gonna be free........

song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Silence Is...

Silence is an absence
Silence is profound
Silence is a conversation
Being had without sound
Silence is an expression
One that cannot be heard
Silence cannot be spoken
Although it is a word
Silence is a presence
Of great nothingness
Silence can be something
And yet cease to exist
Silence can fill a room
And have no mass at all
Silence cannot be dropped, yet it can fall
Silence is a mystery
That will forever go unsolved
Silence is how every sound can swiftly be dissolved
Silence is the sound of rest
The only sound that can sound best
While other sounds can cause great pain
Silence is not the sound to blame
For Silence is what silence is
Something that is nothing
Nothing that exists

poem by Kyle.J Carruthers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Moment Of You

small tiny prayers,
passing thoughts,
a moment of you....

maybe just the sunlight
sifting through the blinds,
the wind blowing a branch

against the windowpane.
the sound of the train
on the distant tracks....

the ticking of the clock
in the dead stillness.
a child laughing and talking,

walking down the road....
a sudden pain in my heart,
that lingers, then is gone.

an empty bird's nest
on the ground beside the shed....
a stray cat begging for food....

small tiny prayers...
clouds in the afternoon sky...
water dripping, an old spicket......

a moment of you!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

New World Order

Broken down, feeling naked
Leaving me unfulfilled
Promising compromise
Championing mediocrity
Time and time again
What you said ain't what you mean
Even if all my bones are broken
I will drag myself back from the edge to
Kill the King, The King is dead, Long live the King
Kill the King, The King is dead, Long live the
King,
I am the King, God save the King
Kill the King, The King is dead
I am the King, Long live the King
Kill the King, The King is dead
I am the King, Long live the King
I reveal a deceiver
In the highest seat in the land
His idle hands the Devil's workshop
Generate more smoke than heat
Time and time again
What you said ain't what you mean
Even if all my bones are broken
I will drag myself back from the edge to
Kill the King, The King is dead, Long live the King
Kill the King, The King is dead, Long live the
King,
I am the King, God save the King
Kill the King, The King is dead
I am the King, Long live the King
Kill the King, The King is dead
I am the King, Long live the King
A new precedent in pain, a new precedent in pain
Mankind is blown to dust, mankind is blown to dust
An explosion of the Brain, an explosion of the
Brain
Spontaneously combust, spontaneously combust
Kill the King, The King is dead, Long live the
King,
I am the King
Kill the King, I, The King is dead, I am, Long live
the King,
I am the King
Kill the King, I, The King is dead, I am, Long live
the King,
I am the King
Kill the King, I, The King is dead, I am, Long live
the King,
I am the King

song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Soldier's Funeral

The muffled drum rolled on the air,
Warriors, with stately step, were there;
On every arm was the black crape bound,
Every carbine was turned to the ground;
Solemn, the sound of their measured tread,
As silent and slow, they followed the dead.

The riderless horse was led in the rear;
There were white plumes waving over the bier;
Helmet and sword were laid on the pall,
For, it was a soldier's funeral.

That soldier had stood on the battle plain,
Where every step was over the slain;
But the brand and the ball had passed him by,
And he came to his native land, to die.

'Twas hard to come to that native land,
And not clasp one familiar hand;
'Twas hard to be numbered amid the dead,
Before he could hear his welcome said.

But, 'twas something to see its cliffs once more,
And to lay his bones on his own loved shore;
To think, that the friends of his youth might weep,
O'er the green grass turf of the soldier's sleep.

The bugles ceased their wailing sound,
As the coffin was lowered into the ground;
A volley was fired, a blessing said,
One moment's pause, and they left the dead.

I saw a poor and aged man -
His step was feeble, his cheek was wan;
He knelt him down on the new-raised mound,
His face was bowed on the cold damp ground;
He raised his head, his tears were done -
The father had prayed o'er his only son.

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Silent Noise

the Silence evokes my spirit'
and i cannot understand her thoughts-
she is dead...
was it my fault?
Did I pulled the trigger?
The Silence boom boom in my soul
echoing...in my bones.
then fades-
She is dead
But was it really my fault?
Did i pulled the trigger too hard this time?
She sleep in dripping red blood.
i am a scholar
the sound of silence
creep in and the blood creeping out

poem by C.F Francis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Kill The King

Broken down, feeling naked
Leaving me unfulfilled
Promising compromise
Championing mediocrity
Time and time again
What you said ain't what you mean
Even if all my bones are broken
I will drag myself back from the edge to
Kill the King, The King is dead, Long live the King,
I am the King, God save the King
I reveal a deceiver
In the highest seat in the land
His idle hands the Devil's workshop
Generate more smoke than heat
Time and time again
What you said ain't what you mean
Even if all my bones are broken
I will drag myself back from the edge to
Kill the King, The King is dead, Long live the King,
I am the King, God save the King
Kill the King, The King is dead
I am the King, Long live the King
A new precedent in pain, a new precedent in pain
Mankind is blown to dust, mankind is blown to dust
An explosion of the Brain, an explosion of the Brain
Spontaneously combust, spontaneously combust
Kill the King, The King is dead, Long live the King,
I am the King

song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

a Poem Of Silence

Silence is a beautiful thing.
no other sound is as great as silence.

Silence is the sound of nothing,
but it is still a sound.
even if a sound is great and amazing,
nothing can top the blissfulness of silence.

not the sound of wind on grass,
not the sound of laughter,
nothing is as beautiful as silence.

silence is a sound, but it is so much
better than any other sound.
What created such a far-off winner?

I love silence, silence is the best.
Never there will be a time that there
will be
a greater sound
than silence.

poem by Llew N. Rmail
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Death Alone

There are lone cemeteries,
tombs full of soundless bones,
the heart threading a tunnel,
a dark, dark tunnel :
like a wreck we die to the very core,
as if drowning at the heart
or collapsing inwards from skin to soul.

There are corpses,
clammy slabs for feet,
there is death in the bones,
like a pure sound,
a bark without its dog,
out of certain bells, certain tombs
swelling in this humidity like lament or rain.

I see, when alone at times,
coffins under sail
setting out with the pale dead, women in their dead braids,
bakers as white as angels,
thoughtful girls married to notaries,
coffins ascending the vertical river of the dead,
the wine-dark river to its source,
with their sails swollen with the sound of death,
filled with the silent noise of death.

Death is drawn to sound
like a slipper without a foot, a suit without its wearer,
comes to knock with a ring, stoneless and fingerless,
comes to shout without a mouth, a tongue, without a throat.
Nevertheless its footsteps sound
and its clothes echo, hushed like a tree.

I do not know, I am ignorant, I hardly see
but it seems to me that its song has the colour of wet violets,
violets well used to the earth,
since the face of death is green,
and the gaze of death green
with the etched moisture of a violet's leaf
and its grave colour of exasperated winter.

But death goes about the earth also, riding a broom
lapping the ground in search of the dead -
death is in the broom,
it is the tongue of death looking for the dead,
the needle of death looking for the thread.

Death lies in our beds :
in the lazy mattresses, the black blankets,
lives a full stretch and then suddenly blows,
blows sound unknown filling out the sheets
and there are beds sailing into a harbour
where death is waiting, dressed as an admiral.

poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Food For Thought

The squirrel that finds an acorn,
Does he really know
the power that the acorn has
if let alone to grow?

It grows into a mighty oak
for the squirrel to scamper on,
until the fall arrives once more
when all the leaves are gone.

It's then the powerful acorn
is dug up once again
to repeat the yearly ritual
by our bushy-tailed little friend.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Dead Prayers

hearts trek
feet travel to the road
leading to unknown tombs
forgotten by the winding clocks
never remembered by the heart
and troubled souls
reach the unpainted walls
of a moss decorated crypt
and the dead souls
shouts dead prayers
only the dead can understand
what are halloween prayers anyway?
for uncaring bones
became stout by the earth
addicted by the rain of forgetfullness
and drugged by dreams gone wild
of wisdom lost
in a maze of unknown heavens
in a hell never found..
yet it is Halloween
so hearts still murmur
souls still recite
dead prayers for all
dead souls
encaged on dead tombs

poem by Villiamor Calventas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Law[Earthing On Fire]

I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
In the street a man shouts out loud
A wallet drops and money flies into the midday sun
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Oh I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
In a house a man drops dead
As he hits the floor he sighs
What a morning
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Oh I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
Earthlings on fire (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
Sometimes
Earthlings (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
I dont want knowledge

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Sounds Of The Earth (Part Two)

i hear the sounds of young lovers,
moaning, groaning, and whimpering.
the rush of wind,
that startles the curtains.
the slap of wet bodies,
the sigh of the candle.
low words cooed,
without need for definition.

i feel the tears of the sinner,
hear them hit the floor.
the prayers, and confessions,
the guilt, and the need.
the heavy breathing of redemption,
and the silence that heals...
yes, even the silence
has its own sound!

i hear the bones of the nameless,
rising from their hidden graves.
to dance in the holiness,
of identity regained!
i hear the crackle of the fire,
as life becomes vapor.
i hear the stranger at the door,
and know well his voice!

i feel these sounds,
swelling up within me.
erupting from my conscience,
till song becomes song.

and i hear the heartbeats,
of newborn babies and small children.
of the old woman dying
in a forgotten room.
the heartbeats of wolves,
of birds, and silent cattle.
the heartbeats of things
lost to memory and time....
and each sound alike,
alike in their difference...
sounding like mine,
like yours...
and like god's!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Australian Scenery

The Mountains
A land of sombre, silent hills, where mountain cattle go
By twisted tracks, on sidelings deep, where giant gum trees grow
And the wind replies, in the river oaks, to the song of the stream below.
A land where the hills keep watch and ward, silent and wide awake
As those who sit by a dead campfire, and wait for the dawn to break,
Or those who watched by the Holy Cross for the dead Redeemer's sake.

A land where silence lies so deep that sound itself is dead
And a gaunt grey bird, like a homeless soul, drifts, noiseless, overhead
And the world's great story is left untold, and the message is left unsaid.

The Plains
A land as far as the eye can see, where the waving grasses grow
Or the plains are blackened and burnt and bare, where the false mirages go
Like shifting symbols of hope deferred -- land where you never know.
Land of plenty or land of want, where the grey Companions dance,
Feast or famine, or hope or fear, and in all things land of chance,
Where Nature pampers or Nature slays, in her ruthless, red, romance.

And we catch a sound of a fairy's song, as the wind goes whipping by,
Or a scent like incense drifts along from the herbage ripe and dry
-- Or the dust storms dance on their ballroom floor, where the bones of the cattle lie.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Dark At The End Of The Night

The dark at the end of the night
The hole in the ground
The worms:
This is what I fear
The nothingness that lasts forever
And the disintegration that makes all I am
Smell terribly for a while
And then on and on,
Bones and dust
Dust and dust.

Oh the fear of the ground
And the fear of that nothingness forever-

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Dead......Insides

Dead......insides
Dead, no mores alives
insides

One day the water
will wash the dead away
on the inside

The dead feelings, memories, and all
The names dead inside me
Leaving a white hot desert

Burning to the core
Where the bones are bleached
dead white. White hot heat and nothing more

poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

SnAkE oN mY bAcK

snake on the ground slithers. The plains scream out in fear, it slides onto my back and forces out my red tears. into my thought i can now see how foolishly i used to be. I remember the snake on my back and how i remember i should have fought back. The trees dance in scilence the fire now devoures the plains, the snake told me to forget my name. I threw the snake off my back with no sound forcefully it lay dead by the ground. Now i can feel the snake beneath my feet.

poem by Ben Sparaco
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey

MORTALITY, behold and fear!
What a change of flesh is here!
Think how many royal bones
Sleep within this heap of stones:
Here they lie had realms and lands,
Who now want strength to stir their hands:
Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust
They preach, 'In greatness is no trust.'
Here 's an acre sown indeed
With the richest, royall'st seed
That the earth did e'er suck in
Since the first man died for sin:
Here the bones of birth have cried--
'Though gods they were, as men they died.'
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings;
Here 's a world of pomp and state,
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.

poem by Francis Beaumont
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!