The Stain
they bury the bodies
in shallow graves....
never forgetting the faces
of hunger and need.
great planes flying overhead,
covered trucks on dusty roads.
soldiers with guns, blank stares,
cold as the oil in their veins....
the reporter speaks, eyes half lowered...
you turn off the tv,
and go to wash your hands...
but you cant wash away the stain!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sacrilege
mercury, and bullets,
the dead dont lie!
the used bear the marks,
on their backs, in their eyes.
and the price of the present,
the childrens' lives.
we bury our dreams
with guns and knives.
the earth weeps for us,
as the sky falls down.
cant see beyond our mouths,
cant hear the sound...
and the tears of the fallen,
stand like puddles of rain.
you can wash your hands,
cant wash off the stain.
we trade pictures of God
for money and dope.
push the helpless to the limit,
and furnish the rope.
never thinking we'll pay
the cost of our sins....
the voices of the children
lost to the ravenous wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tees spoon
Hand is
Use for eat...
Ok...
Wash every time
At your's hands...
At every works...
Wash your's hands...
Clean...
with clean...
Wash And eat food...
Tell about your children
Today...
Wash hands
And eat...
You are lazy
Don't wash
Your hands...
Use tees spoon...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Wash It Down
I'magine all the words we're spitting
would be killing inside
being trapped in a jungle
be cool don't fight
there are no enemies no justice
but now you need revenge
everytime I show my faces
to earn your respect
I'm an absolute beginner
she's an absolute beginner
but I can't do with it
she can't do with it
I wash it you kick it and spoil it with dirt
nevermind I've got two faces and one of it hurts
What a dirty shirt (x6)
Wash it down
And when you roam with the storm
I'm coming your way
noone can stop me
it's the upcoming day
which shows you the thruth
and then your life gets confused
you might wash a white shirt without my lust
I'm an absolute sinner
she's an absolute sinner
and I need to commit
she needs to commit
I wash it you kick it and spoil it with dirt
nevermind I've got two faces and one of it hurts
What a dirty shirt (x8)
Wash it down
Wash it (x10)
Wash it down
Wash it down
Wash it down
My dirty shirt
Wash it down
(repeat)
Hey
Wash it down
WASH IT DOWN
Aieee (x2)
Yeah yeah yeah
I wash it (x5)
WASH IT (x2)
song performed by by Guano Apes from Proud Like A God
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Judas
like Judas,
i too oft kissed compassion
on the cheek...
betraying my conscience
to feed my hungers...
too oft dug shallow graves
in my haste to keep going....
too oft took a sip of water,
and poured the rest on the ground....
too oft crossed myself,
gave a couple dollars to a begger,
but kept some back for myself....
too oft looked into the eyes of need,
and only saw a stranger....
too oft gave half a heart....
telling myself it was all i had....
too oft painted the picture
without seeing myself in it....
too oft failed to listen,
to hear, and to change...
just a kiss on the cheek...
and hands i cant wash clean!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wash
Never meant to waste your time
never meant to fall out of line
I was trying to get closer to you
Now it seems with every step
feels like I'm losing my breath
I don't know what else I can do
but you wash over me
you wash over me like rain
and you wash over me
you wash over me like sunshine
I never had to choose
living a life with you
or chasing lies only half true
when our love would be
a world alone with you and me
than hiding behind these walls
when you wash over me
you wash over me like rain
and you wash over me
you wash over me like sunshine
and you wash over me
you wash over me like rain
and you fall over me
you crawl over me
like sunshine
like sunshine
Everything in the world was falling through
all I knew was it led to you
my sunshine
all my life never found my place
until I felt the sunlight on my face
my sunshine
Never meant to waste your time
never meant to fall out of line
I was trying to get closer to you
Now it seems with every step
feels like I'm losing my breath
I don't know what else I can do
but you wash over me
you wash over me like rain
and you wash over me
you wash over me like sunshine
and you wash over me
you wash over me like rain
and you fall into me
you crawl into me
like sunshine
like sunshine
like sunshine
like sunshine
song performed by by Lifehouse from Stanley Climbfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bury Me Now!
bury me now,
at the feet of your freedom.
bury me now,
in the bowl of your hunger.
bury me now,
in the healing balm.
bury me now,
in the hand that comforts.
bury me now,
at the foot of the birthing bed.
bury me now,
in the march for peace.
bury me now,
let my body be the bridge.
bury me now,
and give names to the faces!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Can I Turn To?
If only i could stand
On my own two feet
Oh honey, then i'd know
Life could be so sweet
Someone to drive
Someone to blame
Someone to rush through my veins
Someone to wash it all away
* who can i turn to now
If not you, tell me
Who can i turn to
If not you
If i could get
What i want for free
Then i wouldn't have to borrow
Take a tranquilliser
From your limousine driver
Before we crash into tomorrow
Someone to love
Someone to hold me
Someone so courageous
Someone to drag me in from the cold
(* repeat 3 times)
Who can i turn to (tell me who)
Who's gonna be there (if not you)
Tell me who (tell me)
Tell me who (tell me)
Tell me who
Tell me who can i turn to
(if not you)
Ooh (tell me who)
You've got to, you've got to
Tell me who
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gravedigger
Cyrus Jones 1810 to 1913,
Cyrus Jones 1810 to 1913
Made his great grandchildren believe you could live to 100 and 3
Made his great grandchildren believe
A 100 and 3, is forever when you're just a little kid so
You could live to a hundred and three
Cyrus Jones lived forever
A hundred and three is forever when you're just a little kid
So Cyrus Jones lived forever
Gravedigger
When you dig my grave
Gravedigger
Could you make it shallow
When you dig my grave
So that I can feel the rain
Could you make it shallow
Gravedigger
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger
Muriel Stonewall 1903 to 1954,
She lost both of her babies in the second great war,
Muriel Stonewall
Now you should never have to watch as your only children are lowered into the ground
1903 to 1954
I mean
She lost both of her babies in the second great war
Never have to bury your own babies
Now you should never have to watch
Your only children lowered in the ground
Gravedigger
I mean you should never have to bury your own babies
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
Gravedigger
So that I can feel the rain
When you dig my grave
Gravedigger
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Ring around the Rosy
Gravedigger
Pocket full of posies
Ashes to ashes
Ring around the rosey
We all fall down
Pocket full of posey
Ashes to ashes
Gravedigger
We all fall down
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
Gravedigger
So that I can feel the rain
When you dig my grave
Oh Gravedigger
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Little Mikey Carsons, 67 to 75
Gravedigger
He rode his bike like the devil until the day he died
When he grows up he wants to be Mr. Vertigo on the flying trapeze
Little Mikey Carson 67 to 75
Oh, 1940 to 1992
He rode his
Bike like the devil until the day he died
Gravedigger
When he grows up he wants to be Mr. Vertigo on the flying trapeze
When you dig my grave
Ohhh, 1940 to 1992
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger
Oh, Gravedigger
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
When you dig my grave
So that I can feel the rain
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger
I can feel the rain
When you dig my grave
I can feel the rain
Could you make it shallow
Gravedigger
So that I can feel the rain
When you dig my grave
Feel the rain
Could you make it shallow
I can feel the rain
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger
Gravedigger
Gravedigger
Gravedigger
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Hands And Old Eyes....
old hands unbutton
the blouse of the day.
old hands make coffee,
open the dusty blinds.
old hands wash a few dishes,
make breakfast for the dogs...
old hands feed the stray cat,
make toast and wait.
old eyes caress the sunlight
as if an old friend.
old eyes see the work,
yet stop, to touch the morning.
old eyes kiss the trees,
the squirrels, and distant mountains.
old eyes ache with longing,
and amazement.
old hands and old eyes
begin the journey anew.
listening intently for the footfall,
for another candle, a hoe.
for the scent of nearness,
perhaps only remembered.
old hands and old eyes,
take the plow, the hammer,
and the nails....
old hands and old eyes,
waiting for love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do They Come Clean?
at the end of the day,
when we wash our hands,
do they come clean?
homeless people, young girls
sold on the block,
hungry children, AIDS victims,
gotta watch your stocks.
black and white, brown and red,
gunfire and poverty;
kids afraid to go to school,
aint no profit in honesty.
SUV's, invaded countries,
oil doesnt buy liberty.
the takers take, the hurting weep,
at the cost of dignity.
politicians lie, preachers sell
narrow minded philosophies.
prisons full, bodies in the street,
the faces of reality.
smoke fills the air, oil fills the seas,
trade the future for the fix.
unemployed standing in line,
faceless numbers, brick upon brick.
close your door, shut your windows,
turn up the sound....
of anger, despair, and loss....
cries for help as they drown...
tell me....
at the end of the day,
when we wash our hands,
do they come clean?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A1 Story
World has advanced in many days...
Yet in 21st Century poverty retains in umpteen ways;
Hunger glinted in his eyes...
He does begging and petty thievery, at the same time!
Cheeks were sunken and clothes were in rags but still, a crime!
Believe I swear in the name of god, my words are not lies.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
I saw a rag picker scrounging for a coin in the garbage,
Though he is with bare foot who knows as bub, he is cute!
Owing to the troubles he met, made him mute.
He can fill the rivers with poverty's tears...
His eyes were pale and mouth opened for food cabbage!
One among is he, pleading and begging the passersby yet nobody hears.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
The street is lighted with half naked
Bodies go begging down, the street and half fed,
From head to toe they're covered with poverty, yet
With pain and misery as their make-up set;
Hunger is present in their stomach and a rat's race!
And it is vaguely seen on their face and a food race.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Labourers in construction breaking the stones...
And lifting the bricks while scorching sun is the witness!
They work bodily, resembles awkward dance of a heap of bones,
The skin saturates and swallows the heat, I bet!
Leaving it dark as the midnight sky, oh! What a mess!
Their hopes are dashed; life is smashed of body’s sweat!
The Mother weeps and father yells!
Sitting in the house of poverty and what-else!
Small sister sleeps and her little brother dies and I linger;
His father only stares as he is killed by hunger...
Why doctors only cure diseases and why not
Poverty - the biggest disease of all. Is it not?
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Every now and then in newspapers, I hear
The death of a peasant or two, oh my dear!
Unable to feed family, life has become Herculean task,
Drowned himself in melancholy, under hunger mask!
Bogged down under wheels of Pressure, not to hide...
Due to debts of treasure, he committed suicide!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Lot of hunger and empty bowl without food is poverty,
Not having one more dress to take bath is poverty,
............................................. ..............................................
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>READ PART 2>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
*A big NOTICE BOARD: Oops! Sorry the poem is NOT completed. This is just break time! Now read to make your reading wholesome read PART - 2
April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A2 Story
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Eternity
I was born on the banks of eternity
A page of the history it teaches
Not a care, lived my life like a hurricane
Leaving everything along the way in pieces
Some may have cheered, some may have wondered
If I am flesh, if I am stone
Thoughts of you tear through me like thunder
You are the light that has led me back home
Take me to the river, baby
Wash away the lies
Ive got no reputation living in your eyes
Take me to eternity
Let me bury this disguise
A southern boy has it harder sometimes
Its like you were climbing a razor
You were there when my dreams had all turned to dust
And the man in the mirror was a stranger
Look at me now, a soulless survivor
No mask can hide the man that Ive made
You ease my pain
Your make it silent
Slowly I feel it beginning to fade
I want to feel it
Rushing over me into the tide
I want to taste it
Every moment til the end of my life
I have laid still, adrift in you memory
Hoping your faith would erase all the years
Maybe some time, maybe some magic
Maybe your love will make everything clear
Take me to the river, baby
Wash away the lies
Ive got no reputation living in your eyes
Take me to eternity
Let me bury this disguise
Take me to the river, baby
Wash away the lies
There are no expectations hiding in your eyes
Take me to eternity
And let me bury this disguise
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Water
Quicksand, my heart is sinking
I try to run but I can't stop thinking
I'm climbin' walls, I'm on the ceilin'
Its gonna take a miracle to heal me
I'm starin' down into the quarry
I see a stone for every sorry
I'm on the edge, I'm goin under
And after I die I'm gonna rise from the water
I wanna blast off,
let gravity dissapear
I'm tired of fallin, fallin, fallin
from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up
into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you Jesus in the water here
So come and wash me clean
The sky is red, there's blood on my hands
Cant deny, you're clear where I stand
The burn of sin, I hear them shoutin'
Send me a river to drown this mountain
(Repeat Chorus)
Wash me clean...
Let it wash me, let is wash me, let it wash me clean
(Repeat Chorus)
I wanna blast off,
let gravity dissapear
Come and lift me up,
into the clean and clear
Let it wash me, let it wash me, let it wash me clean
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frogs
There you are
Infected with the water strain
Wash your car
Fish and thoughts come screaming down like rain
There you are
Wash your hands and wash your face
Waters gone
Its vaporized and gone to outer space
Im lookin at the sky
Im waitin on the rain
Im waitin for the frogs to fall
Down on me
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fury Of Hating Eyes
I would like to bury
all the hating eyes
under the sand somewhere off
the North Atlantic and suffocate
them with the awful sand
and put all their colors to sleep
in that soft smother.
Take the brown eyes of my father,
those gun shots, those mean muds.
Bury them.
Take the blue eyes of my mother,
naked as the sea,
waiting to pull you down
where there is no air, no God.
Bury them.
Take the black eyes of my love,
coal eyes like a cruel hog,
wanting to whip you and laugh.
Bury them.
Take the hating eyes of martyrs,
presidents, bus collectors,
bank managers, soldiers.
Bury them.
Take my eyes, half blind
and falling into the air.
Bury them.
Take your eyes.
I come to the center,
where a shark looks up at death
and thinks of my heart
and squeeze it like a doughnut.
They'd like to take my eyes
and poke a hatpin through
their pupils. Not just to bury
but to stab. As for your eyes,
I fold up in front of them
in a baby ball and you send
them to the State Asylum.
Look! Look! Both those
mice are watching you
from behind the kind bars.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Wash Away Those Years
She came calling
One early morning
She showed her crown of thorns
She whispered softly
To tell a story
About how she had been wronged
As she lay lifeless
He stole her innocence
And this is how she carried on
This is how she carried on
Well I guess she closed her eyes
And just imagined everything's alright
But she could not hide her tears
'Cause they were sent to wash away those years
They were sent to wash away those years
My anger's violent
But still I'm silent
When tragedy strikes at home
I know this decadence Is shared by millions
Remember you're not alone
Remember you're not alone
Well if you just close your eyes
And just imagine everything's alright
But do not hide your tears
'Cause they were sent to wash away those years
Well if you just close your eyes
And just imagine everything's alright
But do not hide your tears
'Cause they were sent to wash away those years
They were sent to wash away those years
Maybe we can wash away those years
For we have crossed many oceans
And we labor in between
In life there are many quotients
And I hope I find the mean
the mean
song performed by by Creed from Human Clay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Would I Give
What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through,
Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do!
Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of all.
What would I give for words, if only words would come!
But now in its misery my spirit has fallen dumb.
O merry friends, go your own way, I have never a word to say.
What would I give for tears! Not smiles but scalding tears,
To wash the black mark clean, and to thaw the frost of years,
To wash the stain ingrain, and to make me clean again.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Wash Us Away
On the very first decade that we got to dream in
Our fathers were angry, our mother's were screamin'
At the clothes we were wearin' and the music we got off on
Hitler was dead, welcome to Babylon
Carved our initials out across the sand
The heart and the arrow, no-one understands
Then the tide rolled in and everything ran
And washed us away, washed us away, washed us away
Up in the attic ambition was burning
Now my fingers were bleedin' but the tables were turning
Down in the city the future was beckoning
And I hated myself on the day of reckoning
(Oh yeah)
Carved our initials on top of the cake
The heart and the arrow - the rattle and the snake
How was I to know that the Earth was gonna break
And wash us away, wash us away, wash us away
Everything's temporary in this world
Ain't it a shame when you lose someone
Here tomorrow, gone today
Wash us away, wash us away, wash us away
There was never a fool like a young fool alone in
A world without someone he can find a home in
And for all the wrong reasons we rescued each other
You bandaged my heart I never would recover
(ohhhh)
No river runs true, it always takes a twist
Hearts can be broken, arrows gonna miss
How was I to know that it was gonna come down to this
And wash us away
And we wrote our names on the Dead Sea Scrolls
The young and the restless, the brave and the bold
How was we to know it was gonna get outta control
And wash us away, wash us away, wash us away, wash us away, wash us away,wash us away, wash us away
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whose Faces, Whose Souls?
stripping layers of burnt skin
from lifeless bodies...
digging shallow ditches with tractors.
smoke filled silent skies.
the screams of the dying
swallowed up unheard...
the gods turn their heads,
and the trees that wept
are now on fire....
the stench of emptiness...
glass broken on the sands.
who sent the planes?
who pulled the triggers?
whose faces, whose souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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