Suicide (Distance)
the long slow breath
of your indifferent stare...
miles away, across the room.
your words ring hollow,
and your face disappears
in the gloved hand
that dares not touch...
i planted flowers by your grave,
but i fear the birds
have eaten the last seeds...
i die on your cross
in a land you dare not go to...
behind a door
you choose not to open!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Living in the Heart's Memory
A gentle touch upon the forearm
with a hand, gloved or warm with life,
outside the church door;
turning away from the open grave;
by that concrete place
where they lay the floral tributes
by the cemetery chapel;
or later, as you hand the food around;
a gentle touch upon the forearm
or a hand sought for to squeeze and hold; or
man to man, they favour a shoulder briefly gripped,
as if that’s the pressure point
where empathetic camaraderie should be applied;
the single sentence of consolation,
sometimes so well rehearsed, it comes out awkwardly –
‘she’ll be much missed…’
‘you have so many memories…’
‘he’ll always be there in our hearts…’
‘if there’s anything…’
they’ve been through this, themselves,
or fear the time they shall –
…‘words must be said,
but yet there are no words for this;
accept then, these few words
in lieu of that deep silence
which is itself in lieu of words…’
* * *
measured, immutable, as precise
as any equation of the calculated world,
the heart’s memories:
every moment that our heart in many years
opened to them, the heart has stored.
We know the mind can span the imagined world –
from travel brochures to the thought of heaven;
yet we forget that greater still, the heart is vast –
there’s all the room for them to live on there,
sustained by every moment of love freely given; for
the whole creation is one single act of love.
[written for a bereavement website]
poem by Michael Shepherd

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A Dream Of Death
I DREAMED that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand,
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,
And raised above her mound
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,
And planted cypress round;
And left her to the indifferent stars above
Until I carved these words:
i{She was more beautiful than thy first love,}
i{But now lies under boards.}
poem by William Butler Yeats

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Flowers - Giving It All Away B-side
Renegades and shifting shades
And the lights in your face
And you friends talk lying
But some of them got flowers in their room
When its on and youre falling on every floor
That youre hoping to score
And youre every night ? ? ?
But some of them got flowers in their room
But some of them got flowers in their room
But some of them got flowers in their room
Hear the word that the man on the stairs
Knows your every affair and is holding your hand
And he says some of them got flowers in their room
And he screams in a face
But the smile on the face is cool and its cold
And it reads vacated
And some of them got flowers in their room
And some of them got flowers in their room
And some of them got flowers in their room
And I take someone home and I cant be alone
And theres faces to please and I walk on the knees
Oh you see, I got no flowers in my room
And I laugh with my mouth and I laugh with you
But the joke was a joke that I never really knew
Some of them got flowers in their room
Some of them got flowers in their room
Some of them got flowers in their room
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
All the birds sing words and the flowers croon in the Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki,
Tiki Room. Welcome to our tropical hideaway you lucky people you. If we weren't
in the show starting right away we'd be in the audience too.
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
All the birds sing words and the flowers croon
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
The bird of paradise is an elegant bird. It likes to be seen and it loves to be
heard. Most little birdies will fly away but the Tiki Room birds are here every
day.
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
All the birds sing words and the flowers croon
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
Our show is delightful we hope you'll agree. We hope that it fills you with
pleasure and glee. Because if we don't make you feel like that, we're gonna
wind up on a lady's hat
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room All
the birds sing words and the flowers croon
In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room
song performed by by Hilary Duff

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Allegory Of The Cycle Of Doors
and so there is this door that appears before you
and you open it
and then when you enter the room
another door appears
this is the cycle of doors that keep on appearing and you
keep on opening
but the room still appears from a distance
always distant
from your eager feet to enter
you say to enter the room i must please the door
but the room moves away just the same
and the door tells you
to keep the room
you have to burn it and when the room is burned
the door finally disappears
and then both the door and the room shall tell you
now be happy
for you now have a house of your own
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Seeds Of War
When the seeds of war are sown,
hardly is it ever known
who has planted it
and what for?
Was it about
blood and gore?
When the seeds of war take root
it's hidden reasons make us mute.
Why was it planted
and by whom?
Was its purpose
doom and gloom?
When the seeds of war are grown
never is it ever shown
how it is planted
in men's mind?
How it's made them
all so blind.
When the seeds of war do thrive
many will not be alive.
They'll be planted
in false graves.
These seeds propel
how the world behaves.
poem by Edwina Reizer

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Truly, Truly, This Is The End
They say deaths an open door
Into another room
Within the city of the dead
(Our New Kingdom)
They say we walk like dreams
Sharing the same breath
Seeing through the same eyes
(A collective spirit)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
They say the Earth it gives no peace
Nor does it take away
We all survive the grave
(Unfortunate eternal)
They say that in times past
A king walked in the sky
Until dethroned by man
(Tribe of Judas)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
This is the end
song performed by by Zao

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Game of Stare
There’s a boy with his fellow
I caught his eyes with a wander
Now the game has been played
Now you have been challenged
You better asked my name
Before anyone came
But you only stare, stare, stare
Like I annoy your safety ring
Like you can’t even think
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I lose you something
Something you can’t even win
There’s boy in the dance floor
I catch his eyes, he comes closer
Now the game is replayed
Now you better watch out
You better take me out
Before someone calls you coward
Cause you only stare, stare, stare
Like you never see me in dress
Like no one else who dares
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I steal you something
Something you can’t even think
There’s a boy in the park
He makes me catch his eyes
Now the game is forward
Now you don’t want to break up
You better have a word
Before you loose your hold
And you only stare, stare, stare
Like a puppy wants a bone
Like you’ll be lost if I’m gone
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I can give you something
Something you think you can’t win
poem by Maria Sudibyo

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Anniversaries
for all
the things that we both know
we don't talk about them
we start talking
about those that we pretend we do not know
you choose the words
like the way you put the right flowers in a vase
at the headboard of the bed,
and i choose the words not to hurt you
we do not look at each other's eyes
we refrain the touch
of the hands
you leave the flowers there
and i look to another direction
there are things that remain
to be done
we ought to
and then the flowers wilt
nights come and go
and then the following morning
we choose again
words, flowers,
we continue
not talking about what we already know
i guess
this is the only way how we can survive
the travails of marriage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Give Me Your Hand
Give me your hand
Some had request a life
Some a heart some a wife
But me, give me your hand
Some had desire your whole
Some your smile others your soul
But as for me give me your hand
Some will plead to stare at your beauty
Others will die to match your quality
But me, give me your hand
Some had grace the day you will nurce their seeds
Some had vow to grant your needs
As for me, give me your hand
I have not a single word to wisper
But my gentle hand is there to offer
So please give me your hand
I will wash it with my blood
And wipe it with bliss from God
You just give me your hand
I have nothing to lift you above
But I will raise your hand with love
Give me your hand
Let us cross huddles with a solmn sing
While I slot the propose ring
Will you give me your hand?
poem by Kemurl Fofanah

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Love Defiled
spirits wail in the napalm night,
bodies without faces walk deserted streets.
dreams whisper from cardboard boxes,
ants walk with angel's feet.
the sound of mouth's stricken,
deeper than just need.
the soul of fire shudders,
while glass eyed leeches feed.
history written with grave cost,
we are what we have done.
while outside the door anger lurks,
and the bullet seeks the gun!
gods? i think not....
even demons fear to tread.
the hand takes from its own heart,
and leaves the hunger for dead.
bells ring with hollow haunt,
fear drives the nails in the cross.
even tears of blood cannot repair,
what love defiled leaves as loss!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Hand In Glove
Hand in glove
The sun shines out of our behinds
No, it's not like any other love
This one is different - because it's us
Hand in glove
We can go wherever we please
And everything depends upon
How near you stand to me
And if the people stare
Then the people stare
Oh, i really don't know and i really don't care
Kiss my shades ... oh ...
Hand in glove
The good people laugh
Yes, we may be hidden by rags
But we've something they never have
Hand in glove
The sun shines out of our behinds
Yes, we may be hidden by rags
But we've something they never have
And if the people stare
Then the people stare
Oh, i really don't know and i really don't care
Kiss my shades ... oh ...
So, hand in glove i stake my claim
I'll fight to the last breath
If they dare touch a hair on your head
I'll fight to the last breath
For the good life is out there somewhere
So stay on my arm, you little charmer
But i know my luck too well
Yes, i know my luck too well
And i'll probably never see you again
I'll probably never see you again
I'll probably never see you again
Oh ...
song performed by by Smiths

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Touch And Go
In a room full of silver shadows
A customary kiss goodnight
And it slips through your tightened shoulders
It reaches your heart and dies
And the sadness is bound to kill me
But I'm too far away to care
And I'd just like to know if you will
Oh could I even get there
Oh
Back to the touch and go
When not a soul could know
When your lovin' was slow
We lived every night for the touch and go
Now there's no one in the night to blame you
No one in your glasses of wine
I never won I only tamed you
Foolishly I called you mine
And your pacing in your cage every morning
And you rattle your chains every night
And you stare past the bars never knowing
With nothing left to put up a fight
Oh
Then we would touch and go
When not a soul could know
Oh your lovin' was slow
And we lived every night for the touch
Oh I remember
The touch and go
When not a soul could know
Oh your lovin' was slow
We lived every night for the touch and go
Are you still breathing
Tonight the scent is in the city
Tonight it's on the radio
Tonight I'll leave the key beside the door
Tonight I'm gonna touch and go
Touch and go
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty Spaces
Once there were times love
When we could touch the air between
And out acroos this room
Wed just touch hands life would shine
With electric dreams.
No matter how many miles
Nothing hurt long-distance-hearts
And there was always something there
That space could never keep apart
But now I know inside that something is died
When were apart
All we have are
Empty spaces.
Its not like were building walls
Too hard to climb to make us blind
Its just so much numbing space
To hollow out the heart and mind
And I can hear echoes of ghosts of love
We left behind.
Ill always love april
We fell in love and we planted seeds
But now we walk through fallen trees
And leaves are crushed beneath
And I will always live in autumn
Now were agreed
All we have are
Empty spaces.
Ithought this was meant to be
Our love had an energy
But only as time evolved
And all of our strength dissolved
And well never feel the flame that burned so naked
Again.
I walk through kentish town
And all the rain rain pouring down
So many people here
But space like this Ive never found
And as I get back home and step inside
I realise all I have
All I have are
Empty spaces.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Time I Saw Her
The last time I saw her face, her eyes were bathed in starlight and her
hair hung long
The last time she spoke to me, her lips were like the scented flowers
inside a rain-drenched forest
But that was so long ago that I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
And if time could heal the wounds, I would tear the threads away that I
might bleed some more
The last time I walked with her
Her laughter was the steeple bells
That ring to greet the morning sun
A voice that called to everyone
To love the ground she walked upon
Those were good day
The last time I held her hand, her touch was autumn, spring and summer,
and winter too
The last time I let go of her, she walked a way into the night
I lost her in the misty streets, a thousand months, a thousand miles
When other lips will kiss her eyes
A million miles beyond the moon, that's where she is
But that was so long ago that I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
And if time could heal the wounds, I would tear the threads away that I
might bleed some more
The last time I saw her face, her eyes were bathed in starlight and she
walked alone
The last time she kissed my cheek
Her lips were like the wilted leaves
Upon the autumn covered hills
Resting on the frozen ground
The seeds of love lie cold and still
Beneath a battered marking stone
It lies forgotten
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Time I Saw Her
The last time I saw her face, her eyes were bathed in starlight and her hair hung long
The last time she spoke to me, her lips were like the scented flowers inside a rain-drenched forest
But that was so long ago that I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
And if time could heal the wounds, I would tear the threads away that I might bleed some more
The last time I walked with her
Her laughter was the steeple bells
That ring to greet the morning sun
A voice that called to everyone
To love the ground she walked upon
Those were good day
The last time I held her hand, her touch was autumn, spring and summer, and winter too
The last time I let go of her, she walked a way into the night
I lost her in the misty streets, a thousand months, a thousand miles
When other lips will kiss her eyes
A million miles beyond the moon, thats where she is
But that was so long ago that I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
And if time could heal the wounds, I would tear the threads away that I might bleed some more
The last time I saw her face, her eyes were bathed in starlight and she walked alone
The last time she kissed my cheek
Her lips were like the wilted leaves
Upon the autumn covered hills
Resting on the frozen ground
The seeds of love lie cold and still
Beneath a battered marking stone
It lies forgotten
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Tintagel Graveyard
Who brought flowers to this grave?
I, said the wren.
I brought them as seeds and then
Watched them grow.
No, said the wind. That's not true.
I blew them across the moor and sea,
I blew them up to the grave's door.
They were a gift from me.
They came of their own accord,
Said the celandine.
I know best. They're brothers of mine.
I am Death's friend,
Said the crow. I ought to know.
I dropped them into the shadow of the leaning stone.
I brought the flowers.
No, said Love,
It was I who brought them,
With the help of the wren's wing,
With the help of the wind's breath,
With the help of the celandine and the crow.
It was I who brought them
For the living and the dead to share,
I was the force that put those flowers there.
poem by Brian Patten

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She Brought Them All Kindly To Her Grave
of course i know what coldness is
apart from something that is cool
when mother died her hands were extremely cold
for my hold
i let them go
there was no sadness
there was that happiness of letting her rest
and giving myself a little space
for tomorrow
when coldness comes again in an empty room
with open windows
i know not what panic shall be
my hands are extremely cold these days
when i kiss them
my lips become frozen
they break like glasses
i cannot speak
there is no way that my tongue shall give in to
words
it cannot face coldness in the mirror
of my face
since you ask and you demand an explanation i open my hands
and i let your hands touch them
i cannot speak i am afraid i will be cruel
you must hold these extreme coldness for a long time
so you can all let them go
like white birds against a dark sky
so you can also experience what happiness
i had when i let go off
mama's fears
when mama closed her eyes
because what was important she knew
need not be said anymore
she brought them all kindly to her grave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Touch me not
I feel so shy if you touch,
Never think more or ideas vouch,
Prison I feel as water in pouch,
Neither words nor offer much,
With first light I open,
Leaves fresh and arm widen,
Open to embrace but shame laden,
Eyes stare but words hidden,
I need a touch smooth and delicate,
I shut my eyes if matters complicate,
It is not crown, kingdom so I abdicate,
Shyness, mildness and oneness indicate,
I may mushroom and naturally bloom,
Moment you touch face become gloom,
Even closed doors and windows in room,
Face get reddish and shyness zoom,
“Touch me not” say I won’t allow,
Not shake hand or word hello,
I can’t and hide face in pillow,
Never look up face and eyes below,
Allow it to happen natural way,
Not you wait to hear my say,
Not respect but feelings pay,
Not to loose hope as you are ray,
Female or ladies always like fold,
Handsome gents and approach bold,
If touched once feel body cold,
Soul and body never feel sold,
Ladies have quality inherent,
Does not depend on advice of parent,
Face always down with eyes to speak,
No words to speak or silence to break,
Can’t be won over by false promise,
Moments fact known entry dismiss,
Dream remains dream and always to miss,
Sudden end with nothing more to kiss,
To be in fold is act holy pure,
Bonding takes place if both are sure,
“Promise to be on side ‘words assure,
No evil takes place as steps taken sure
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal

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Despised And Rejected
My sun has set, I dwell
In darkness as a dead man out of sight;
And none remains, not one, that I should tell
To him mine evil plight
This bitter night.
I will make fast my door
That hollow friends may trouble me no more.
'Friend, open to Me.'—Who is this that calls?
Nay, I am deaf as are my walls:
Cease crying, for I will not hear
Thy cry of hope or fear.
Others were dear,
Others forsook me: what art thou indeed
That I should heed
Thy lamentable need?
Hungry should feed,
Or stranger lodge thee here?
'Friend, My Feet bleed.
Open thy door to Me and comfort Me.'
I will not open, trouble me no more.
Go on thy way footsore,
I will not rise and open unto thee.
'Then is it nothing to thee? Open, see
Who stands to plead with thee.
Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou
One day entreat My Face
And howl for grace,
And I be deaf as thou art now.
Open to Me.'
Then I cried out upon him: Cease,
Leave me in peace:
Fear not that I should crave
Aught thou mayst have.
Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more,
Lest I arise and chase thee from my door.
What, shall I not be let
Alone, that thou dost vex me yet?
But all night long that voice spake urgently:
'Open to Me.'
Still harping in mine ears:
'Rise, let Me in.'
Pleading with tears:
'Open to Me that I may come to thee.'
While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold:
'My Feet bleed, see My Face,
See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace,
My Heart doth bleed for thee,
Open to Me.'
So till the break of day:
Then died away
That voice, in silence as of sorrow;
Then footsteps echoing like a sigh
Passed me by,
Lingering footsteps slow to pass.
On the morrow
I saw upon the grass
Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door
The mark of blood for evermore.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti

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