En.Citatepedia^®.ro

An Assassin

. . . They caught him at the bend. He and his son
Sat in the car, revolvers in their laps.
From either side the stone-walled wintry road
There flashed thin fire-streaks in the rainy dusk.
The father swayed and fell, shot through the chest.
The son was up, but one more fire-streak leaped
Close from the pitch-black of a thick-set bush
Not five yards further and lit all the face
Of him whose sweetheart walked the Dublin streets
For lust of him who gave one yell and fell
Flat on the stony road a sweltering corse.
Then they came out, the men who did this thing,
And looked upon their hatred's retribution,
While heedlessly the rattling car fled on.
Grey-haired old Wolf, your letch for peasants' blood,
For peasants' sweat turned gold and silver and bronze,
Is done for ever, for ever and ever is done!
O foul young Fox, no more young girls' fresh lips
Shall bruise and bleed to cool your lecher's lust.
Slowly from out the great high-terraced clouds
The round moon sailed. The dead were left alone.
* * * * *
I talked with one of those who did this thing,
A coughing half-starved lad, mere skin and bone.
I said: 'They found upon those dead men gold.
Why did you not take it?' Then with proud-raised head,
He looked at me and said: 'Sorr, we're not thaves!'
Brother, from up the maimed and mangled earth,
Strewn with our flesh and bones, wet with our blood,
Let that great Word go up to unjust heaven
And smite the cheek of the Devil they've called 'God!'

poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Witch

Eyes, rivulets of red that run beneath a canopy
Of green-tinged lashes –
Tear blood playing on the grey-white skin,
Stretched across the twin peaks of cheekbone.

That slender pillar of a neck –
Magnet of eroticism, blinds to
Veins gorging on the flesh,
Dancing under pulse of blood –
Or whatever pumps inside.

Coal-black lips word intentions –
Castigations – variations of the horror
She was born to be.

O the hair! – a flame-orange avalanche
Thundering down to Hell
Where seething mounds of torn bodies lost their souls
To viler wants and fouler holes of
Scatological minds.

And the plunge of lavish breast –
E’er the siren’s weapon! –
Baits the mortal man –
Were he to chance his hand across
The certainty of doom.

But still we go, our weakness on display –
Hers will not a challenge be to see to our decay.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

Under lust rain

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mirror of Madmen

I dreamed a dream of heaven, white as frost,
The splendid stillness of a living host;
Vast choirs of upturned faces, line o'er line.
Then my blood froze; for every face was mine.

Spirits with sunset plumage throng and pass,
Glassed darkly in the sea of gold and glass.
But still on every side, in every spot,
I saw a million selves, who saw me not.

I fled to quiet wastes, where on a stone,
Perchance, I found a saint, who sat alone;
I came behind: he turned with slow, sweet grace,
And faced me with my happy, hateful face.

I cowered like one that in a tower doth bide,
Shut in by mirrors upon every side;
Then I saw, islanded in skies alone
And silent, one that sat upon a throne.

His robe was bordered with rich rose and gold,
Green, purple, silver out of sunsets old;
But o'er his face a great cloud edged with fire,
Because it covereth the world's desire.

But as I gazed, a silent worshipper,
Methought the cloud began to faintly stir;
Then I fell flat, and screamed with grovelling head,
'If thou hast any lightning, strike me dead!

'But spare a brow where the clean sunlight fell,
The crown of a new sin that sickens hell.
Let me not look aloft and see mine own
Feature and form upon the Judgment-throne.'

Then my dream snapped: and with a heart that leapt
I saw across the tavern where I slept,
The sight of all my life most full of grace,
A gin-damned drunkard's wan half-witted face.

poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Talons of a Gothic Mind

She of talons, borne from gothic mind-
Steel of blue her chilly stare,
Pitch of black her fetid blood-
Whence there came an evil flare

To terrorise the weeping kind
Befogged in mental mire; to rape
The shore with phallic waves -
And all for lust, her one desire:

Corrupt the sand of innocence
Without a case for penitence,
Or cause for such as reticence -
While coming on her priapismic fire.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hippo's Hope

There once was a hippo who wanted to fly --
Fly-hi-dee, try-hi-dee, my-hi-dee-ho.
So he sewed him some wings that could flap through the sky --
Sky-hi-dee, fly-hi-dee, why-hi-dee-go.
He climbed to the top of a mountain of snow --
Snow-hi-dee, slow-hi-dee, oh-hi-dee-hoo.
With the clouds high above and the sea down below --
Where-hi-dee, there-hi-dee, scare-hi-dee-boo.
(Happy ending)
And he flipped and he flapped and he bellowed so loud --
Now-hi-dee, loud-hi-dee, proud-hi-dee-poop.
And he sailed like an eagle, off into the clouds --
High-hi-dee, fly-hi-dee, bye-hi-dee-boop.
(Unhappy ending)
And he leaped like a frog and he fell like a stone --
Stone-hi-dee, lone-hi-dee, own-hi-dee-flop.
And he crashed and he drowned and broke all his bones --
Bones-hi-dee, moans-hi-dee, groans-hi-dee-glop.
(Chicken ending)
He looked up at the sky and looked down at the sea --
Sea-hi-dee, free-hi-dee, whee-hi-dee-way.
And he turned and went home and had cookies and tea --
That's hi-dee, all hi-dee, I have to say.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like Cockatoos

She walked out of her house
And looked around
At all the gardens that looked
Back at her house
(like all the faces
That quiz when you smile...)
And he was standing
At the corner
Where the road turned dark
A part of shiny wet
Like blood the rain fell
Black down on the street
And kissed his feet she fell
Her head an inch away from heaven
And her face pressed tight
And all around the night sang out
Like cockatoos
"there are a thousand things" he said
"i'll never say those things to you again"
And turning on his heel
He left a trace of bubbles
Bleeding in his stead
And in her head
A picture of a boy who left her
Lonely in the rain
(and all around the night sang out like cockatoos)

song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bonescraper

There is no future for us to suture
Your life ill-fated, beat down and hated
Shot in the head, walking undead
Numb to the world, around your head
Rip my skin from my bone, I won't bleed
Rip my heart from my chest, I won't scream
Hide in the shadows, deep black, and hollow
Empty void of light cuts clean, like a knife
Damaged and torn, punctured by thorns
I've felt nothing since I was born
Rip my skins from my bones, I won't bleed
Rip my heart from my chest, I won't scream
My flesh <-> Your flesh
Your eyes <-> My sight
My pain <-> Your shame
We are the same ...
Rip my skin from my bones, I won't bleed
Rip my heart from my chest, I won't scream
Rip my skin ...

song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0046 Jewel of Blood

A fine morning and the side-streets empty
then turning the corner,
in the middle of the road
a pigeon - grey-mauve, plump and feather-perfect,
one wing half-spread in flight,
sprawled sideways,
dead

and at that moment the sun shone
cruelly
on the blood that shone on the dusty road by its head,
a jewel, redder than any red,
that shone like a message
as if it were the blood of the world itself
so rich, so rich...

and I felt guilty
that I saw it so beautiful,
that jewel from the heart of a dead dove
of peace,
and thought I should suppress the thought...
and, now, that further thought which hovered in its train
that this whole world in such a jewel of blood,
more precious than a ruby, or than gold, or much fine gold,
a jewel beyond price
is what a devotee at communion or at Mass...

while cool reason
(what has reason to do with this?)
countered
well you value your own blood above most things
don't you? Why not a pigeon's?

but all words spent and poets silent and associations dropped
and thoughts at rest,
that pool of blood
in the winter sunlight that shone on the dusty street
was just so beautiful.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Annunciation

'The lord appeared in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush and behold, the bush burned with fire and the bush was not consumed.'-EXODOUS iii.2.

When to your virgin heart, unstirred, ungiven,
Upon the quiet mountainside untrod,
The sudden naked fire came down from heaven,
Burning you with the very breath of God,

Was the sun lost? Were all the sweet stars dim
While God raised round your head those walls of light?
Were you locked dumbly, terribly with Him,
Within that burning temple day and night?

What was it to have God there like a bird-
God like a great, gold flower upon your breast-
While He spake things that only one man heard,
Face down before that glory manifest?

When that strange flame went up the mountain side,
Were your forsaken lips so burned with gold
That the creatures of the wild stood off and cried,
And in your breast no blossom dared unfold?

Did you call back the startled birds to build,
And put forth all your simple buds again,
Forgetting how your branches once were filled,
In sweet embrace of passing sun and rain?

Or were all other birds forbidden sing
After those great, gold plumes had made their nest?
Was, in its strange and awful blossoming,
That great, gold flower the last upon your breast?

poem by Muriel Stuart
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The Guardian Angels

A Ballad

Father John in the green lane went
And he drew his robe full tight,
'I would,' quoth he, 'I were home again
For there's evil in the night.
'I would,' quoth he, 'the gold I bear
Were safe with the poor and old,
For strange the fear that follows me
That my eyes cannot behold.'
He looked him left and there he saw
A white rose climb and cling,
He looked him right and in the brake
A wild bird shook his wing.
He looked him back and far there stood
The old church tall and dim,
Yet on the lonely path there came
A terror strange to him.

Without the shadow of the trees
That bent above his way,
Where lost the moon her silver light,
He stood at last at bay.
And on his gown, from his pale brow
Fell great tears of his fright;
His shaking hands held close the gold
Wrapped in its cloth so white.
He knelt him down upon his knee
And prayed the Lord to hear,
'Christ, loosen Thou these laggard feet
That hold me slow in fear.
'Oh, strengthen Thou this childish heart
That trembles all afraid,
In pity for the calling sick
Who die without my aid.
'And let me bring all safely through
The shadows of the night,
The gold I bear for old and poor,
Still Thou this strange affright.'

And as he prayed from off his heart
Fear's clutching fingers fell,
A holy joy grew in his heart
He knew that all was well.
He turned him left and stayed to take
A white rose from her tree,
He turned him right and lilted low
A wild bird melody.
He looked him back and smiling saw
The tall church guarding him,
And then all fearless laughing sped
Through shadows strange and dim.

When but a year had passed away
There came before his gate,
A dying man who 'Succour,' cried
'Before it be too late.'
'Oh, shrive me, Father, ere I die,'
The moaning stranger said;
He took him to his own hearth side
And laid him on his bed.

'Oh, Father! Father! hear me now
And let me rest in peace.'
'Now speak, my son, and tell your sin
To give your soul release.'
'It was one night a year ago—
Sweet Mary, ease my pain—
I followed far your toiling feet
Within a lonely lane.
'The red gold for the old and poor
You had beneath your gown,
I hid within a darksome place
Where I could strike you down.'
Now Father John he smiled and leant
In pity by the bed,
'I did disarm you by my prayer,
I thank the Lord,' he said.
'I went in fear upon my path
I knew some danger lay,
And lone I knelt upon the road
A little while to pray.'

The dying man he raised his head
And laughed both long and loud,
'Oh, ne'er a prayer would hold my hand
Or keep you from your shroud.
'But by you went two mighty men
To guard you either side,
Else had my dagger reached your heart
And surely you had died.'
Then Father John upon his knees
Bent low his holy head,
'God's angels walked beside me there
Lest you my blood should shed
My guardian angels walked by me,
I thank Thee, Lord,' he said.

poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Search Party

You touched my tongue
With yours - blending buds,
Kindling minds, racing worlds,
Unifying two lovers - one body.

Tongues wrestled violently,
Fluidly, in fluid -
Juice flowed, fluidity rousing -
Endorphin storms erupted;
Hearts raged, blood gorged
Cock, clit, tit.

Search-party hands
- desperate -
Found their feelings,
Feeling up, squeezing, sliding,
Rubbing, working, fingers fiddling.

Lungs breathed - sighing, rushing,
Panting, huffing, heaving
- ciliated turmoil.
Hearts worked harder,
Forcing blood torrents;
Whirlpool minds raced,
Blinded, careless, caring, daring.

Clothes faded, cast out - jetsam.
Skin flesh moulded, melded -
Oh to split! for
Inner flesh wanted in.

Pulses pounded,
Rounded mounds flirted nipples
At the lips;
Phallus begging, forcing, pushing,
Pushed;
Ripples crossing skin dunes
Under shudders:
The Quake of Coming - coming -
Came.

We came.
We found.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart And Mind

SAID the Lion to the Lioness-'When you are amber dust,-
No more a raging fire like the heat of the Sun
(No liking but all lust)-
Remember still the flowering of the amber blood and bone,
The rippling of bright muscles like a sea,
Remember the rose-prickles of bright paws
Though the fire of that sun the heart and the moon-cold bone are one.'

Said the Skeleton lying upon the sands of Time-
'The great gold planet that is the mourning heat of the Sun
Is greater than all gold, more powerful
Than the tawny body of a Lion that fire consumes
Like all that grows or leaps...so is the heart

More powerful than all dust. Once I was Hercules
Or Samson, strong as the pillars of the seas:
But the flames of the heart consumed me, and the mind
Is but a foolish wind.'

Said the Sun to the Moon-'When you are but a lonely white crone,
And I, a dead King in my golden armour somewhere in a dark wood,
Remember only this of our hopeless love
That never till Time is done
Will the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind be one.'

poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Country Sweat

Sweat!
Sweat!
Sweat!
Born for trouble, poised for action
Ready to spring at a moment's notice
Nerves like a trigger, waiting to be pulled
Covered with sweat, it ain't nice
Sweat!
Help me please I'm burning up
I got this fire in my heart
Won't let me sleep, can't concentrate
Even when it's cold I'm dripping sweat
It ain't nice
Sweat!
Rivers running down my back
Makes me slippery, like a fish
If I don't stop, I might drown
Falling down, down, down, down, not dead yet
covered with
Sweat
CHORUS
The cool boys bit the dust
They couldn't take the pressure
The cool girls got knocked up
They only wanted to have fun
(Where did they go?)
They fell in low and suffered
(Where did they go?)
They picked up guns and hammers
(Where did they go?)
Without friction there's no heat
WIthout heat there's no fire
Without fire there's no desire
You're making me hot, hot, hot, hot!
Sweat! Sweat!
Take my baby, Saturday night
It's hundred and ten, it's alright
Close the door to my little room
Starting to sweat, fun starts soon
Sweat!
Principal caught me after school
Gave me hell, called me a fool
Pointed his finger, at my face
Started to sweat all over the place
Flowed like rivers, onto the floor
I can take it, give me some more
Sweat!
War breaks out throughout the land
Dodging bullets in the sand
Enemy's getting much to close
Sun beats down on the back of my neck
Fingers twitchin', covered with sweat
Covered with sweat
CHORUS
Sweat!

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faustine

LEAN BACK, and get some minutes’ peace;
Let your head lean
Back to the shoulder with its fleece
Of locks, Faustine.

The shapely silver shoulder stoops,
Weighed over clean
With state of splendid hair that droops
Each side, Faustine.

Let me go over your good gifts
That crown you queen;
A queen whose kingdom ebbs and shifts
Each week, Faustine.

Bright heavy brows well gathered up:
White gloss and sheen;
Carved lips that make my lips a cup
To drink, Faustine,

Wine and rank poison, milk and blood,
Being mixed therein
Since first the devil threw dice with God
For you, Faustine.

Your naked new-born soul, their stake,
Stood blind between;
God said “let him that wins her take
And keep Faustine.”

But this time Satan throve, no doubt:
Long since, I ween,
God’s part in you was battered out;
Long since, Faustine.

The die rang sideways as it fell,
Rang cracked and thin,
Like a man’s laughter heard in hell
Far down, Faustine,

A shadow of laughter like a sigh,
Dead sorrow’s kin;
So rang, thrown down, the devil’s die
That won Faustine.

A suckling of his breed you were,
One hard to wean;
But God, who lost you, left you fair,
We see, Faustine.

You have the face that suits a woman
For her soul’s screen—
The sort of beauty that’s called human
In hell, Faustine.

You could do all things but be good
Or chaste of mien;
And that you would not if you could,
We know, Faustine.

Even he who cast seven devils out
Of Magdalene
Could hardly do as much, I doubt,
For you, Faustine.

Did Satan make you to spite God?
Or did God mean
To scourge with scorpions for a rod
Our sins, Faustine?

I know what queen at first you were,
As though I had seen
Red gold and black imperious hair
Twice crown Faustine.

As if your fed sarcophagus
Spared flesh and skin,
You come back face to face with us,
The same Faustine.

She loved the games men played with death,
Where death must win;
As though the slain man’s blood and breath
Revived Faustine.

Nets caught the pike, pikes tore the net;
Lithe limbs and lean
From drained-out pores dripped thick red sweat
To soothe Faustine.

She drank the steaming drift and dust
Blown off the scene;
Blood could not ease the bitter lust
That galled Faustine.

All round the foul fat furrows reeked,
Where blood sank in;
The circus splashed and seethed and shrieked
All round Faustine.

But these are gone now: years entomb
The dust and din;
Yea, even the bath’s fierce reek and fume
That slew Faustine.

Was life worth living then? and now
Is life worth sin?
Where are the imperial years? and how
Are you Faustine?

Your soul forgot her joys, forgot
Her times of teen;
Yea, this life likewise will you not
Forget, Faustine?

For in the time we know not of
Did fate begin
Weaving the web of days that wove
Your doom, Faustine.

The threads were wet with wine, and all
Were smooth to spin;
They wove you like a Bacchanal,
The first Faustine.

And Bacchus cast your mates and you
Wild grapes to glean;
Your flower-like lips were dashed with dew
From his, Faustine.

Your drenched loose hands were stretched to hold
The vine’s wet green,
Long ere they coined in Roman gold
Your face, Faustine.

Then after change of soaring feather
And winnowing fin,
You woke in weeks of feverish weather,
A new Faustine.

A star upon your birthday burned,
Whose fierce serene
Red pulseless planet never yearned
In heaven, Faustine.

Stray breaths of Sapphic song that blew
Through Mitylene
Shook the fierce quivering blood in you
By night, Faustine.

The shameless nameless love that makes
Hell’s iron gin
Shut on you like a trap that breaks
The soul, Faustine.

And when your veins were void and dead,
What ghosts unclean
Swarmed round the straitened barren bed
That hid Faustine?

What sterile growths of sexless root
Or epicene?
What flower of kisses without fruit
Of love, Faustine?

What adders came to shed their coats?
What coiled obscene
Small serpents with soft stretching throats
Caressed Faustine?

But the time came of famished hours,
Maimed loves and mean,
This ghastly thin-faced time of ours,
To spoil Faustine.

You seem a thing that hinges hold,
A love-machine
With clockwork joints of supple gold—
No more, Faustine.

Not godless, for you serve one God,
The Lampsacene,
Who metes the gardens with his rod;
Your lord, Faustine.

If one should love you with real love
(Such things have been,
Things your fair face knows nothing of,
It seems, Faustine);

That clear hair heavily bound back,
The lights wherein
Shift from dead blue to burnt-up black;
Your throat, Faustine,

Strong, heavy, throwing out the face
And hard bright chin
And shameful scornful lips that grace
Their shame, Faustine,

Curled lips, long since half kissed away,
Still sweet and keen;
You’d give him—poison shall we say?
Or what, Faustine?

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dolly and the Salesman

There's a salesperson at the door
someone said
and so you went to the door
and there was the young salesman

with a book in his hand
and in a sharp grey suit
and hair neat and short cut
yes?

you said
I represent Carson's stores
and it has been brought
to my notice

that you are behind
with your payments
is that so?
you said

yes
the young guy said
three months behind
and if you don't pay today

the item you have chosen to buy
will be removed
is that so?
you said

the young guy looked
into his book of figures
and script
so you called out

Dolly there's a young guy here
who says we owe him money
you both waited
while Dolly came to the door

what do we owe?
she asked
money
the young guy said

what for?
Dolly said
a vacuum cleaner
the young guy said

you are three months behind
now if you do not pay up today
it will be removed
Dolly raised her eyebrows

and put on her
don't mess with me face
and went off
the young guy

and you looked
at each other in silence
after a few minutes
Dolly returned

carrying the vacuum cleaner
here
she said
here's your darn Hoover

take the thing
and go stick it
where the sun
don't shine

and so the young man
held up the vacuum cleaner
and looked at you
and Dolly

and said
right don't come back
to the store
because you won't

be served again
and off he went
out along the road
in the falling black rain.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deeper Well

(dave ohey/daniel lanois/emmylou harris)
The sun burned hot, it burned my eyes
Burned so hot I thought Id died
Thought Id died and gone to hell
Lookin for the water from a deeper well
I went to the river but the river was dry
I fell to my knees an I looked to the sky
I looked to the sky and the spring rain fell
I saw the water from a deeper well
Well...lookin for the water from a deeper well
Well...lookin for the water from a deeper well
I was ready for love I was ready for the money
Ready for the blood and ready for the honey
Ready for the winnin, ready for the bell
Lookin for the water from a deeper well
I found some love and I found some money
Found that blood would drip from the honey
Found I had a thirst that I could not quell
Lookin for the water from a deeper well
Well...lookin for the water from a deeper well
Well...lookin for the water from a deeper well
Well I did it for kicks and I did it for faith
I did it for lust and I did it for hate
I did it for need and I did it for love
Addiction stayed on tight like a glove
So I ran with the moon and I ran with the night
And the three of us were a terrible sight
Nipple to the bottle to the gun to the cell
To the bottom of a hole of a deeper well
Well...lookin for the water from a deeper well
Well...lookin for the water from a deeper well
I rocked with the cradle and I rolled with the rage
I shook those walls and I rattled that gage
I took my trouble down a deadend trail
Reachin out a hand for a holier grail
Hey there mama did you carry that load
Did you tell your baby bout the bend in the road
bout the rebel yell bout the one that fell
Lookin for the water from a deeper well
Well...lookin for the water from a deeper well
Well...lookin for the water from a deeper well

song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweat

Sweat!
Sweat!
Sweat!
Born for trouble, poised for action
Ready to spring at a moments notice
Nerves like a trigger, waiting to be pulled
Covered with sweat, it aint nice
Sweat!
Help me please Im burning up
I got this fire in my heart
Wont let me sleep, cant concentrate
Even when its cold Im dripping sweat
It aint nice
Sweat!
Rivers running down my back
Makes me slippery, like a fish
If I dont stop, I might drown
Falling down, down, down, down, not dead yet
Covered with
Sweat
Chorus
The cool boys bit the dust
They couldnt take the pressure
The cool girls got knocked up
They only wanted to have fun
(where did they go? )
They fell in low and suffered
(where did they go? )
They picked up guns and hammers
(where did they go? )
Without friction theres no heat
Without heat theres no fire
Without fire theres no desire
Youre making me hot, hot, hot, hot!
Sweat! sweat!
Take my baby, saturday night
Its hundred and ten, its alright
Close the door to my little room
Starting to sweat, fun starts soon
Sweat!
Principal caught me after school
Gave me hell, called me a fool
Pointed his finger, at my face
Started to sweat all over the place
Flowed like rivers, onto the floor
I can take it, give me some more
Sweat!
War breaks out throughout the land
Dodging bullets in the sand
Enemys getting much to close
Sun beats down on the back of my neck
Fingers twitchin, covered with sweat
Covered with sweat
Chorus
Sweat!

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dead Boche

To you who’d read my songs of War
And only hear of blood and fame,
I’ll say (you’ve heard it said before)
”War’s Hell!” and if you doubt the same,
Today I found in Mametz Wood
A certain cure for lust of blood:

Where, propped against a shattered trunk,
In a great mess of things unclean,
Sat a dead Boche; he scowled and stunk
With clothes and face a sodden green,
Big-bellied, spectacled, crop-haired,
Dribbling black blood from nose and beard.

poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visions pt2-Torment (Visions Inferno)

I opened my eyes only to see
Destruction and horror in front of me
The searing hot wind forced me to squint
What waited ahead, I dare not think
Dark clouds up high were victims of death
The air smelled of nothing but rotting flesh
I must take this path to make my way home
Wading through blood and stepping on bones

I heard the screams and wails of dead
Bodies moved about without need of a head
A hand tore at my arms, then at my face
I looked in some glass, they were all ablaze
The burning was nothing I could describe
In one, two, or forty lifetimes
Terror and fear is all that was furnished
But I must press on out of this furnace

I felt hatred and anguish surround me
And greed and lust trying to bound me
I’m amazed that my heart kept beating
Through all the violent, deafening shrieking
There was an endless war that was raging
With no signs of stopping, no time for aging
As I left, my shadow gave me a pat
To put out the flames
And keep me from looking back

poem by P.R. Prosper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hellbound Train

A Texas cowboy lay down on a barroom floor,
Having drunk so much he could drink no more;
So he fell asleep with a troubled brain
To dream that he rode on a hell-bound train.

The engine with murderous blood was damp
And was brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp;
An imp, for fuel, was shoveling bones,
While the furnace rang with a thousand groans.

The boiler was filled with lager beer
And the devil himself was the engineer;
The passengers were a most motly crew-
Church member, atheist, Gentile, and Jew,

Rich men in broadcloth, beggers in rags,
Handsome young ladies, and withered old hags,
Yellow and black men, red, brown, and white,
All chained together-O God, what a site!

While the train rushed on at an awful pace-
The sulphurous fumes scorched their hands and face;
Wider and wider the country grew,
As faster and faster the engine flew.

Louder and louder the thunder crashed
And brighter and brighter the lightning flashed;
Hotter and hotter the air became
Till the clothes were burned from each quivering frame.

And out of the distance there arose a yell,
'Ha, ha,' said the devil, 'we're nearing hell!'
Then oh, how the passengers all shrieked with pain
And begged the devil to stop the train.

But he capered about and danced for glee,
And laughed and joked at their misery.
'My faithful friends, you have done the work
And the devil never can a payday shirk.

'You've bullied the weak, you've robbed the poor,
The starving brother you've turned from the door;
You've laid up gold where the canker rust,
And have given free vent to your beastly lust.

'You've justice scorned, and corruption sown,
And trampled the laws of nature down.
You have drunk, rioted, cheated, plundered, and lied,
And mocked at God in your hell-born pride.

'You have paid full fair, so I'll carry you through,
For it's only right you should have your due.
Why, the laborer always expects his hire,
So I'll land you safe in the lake of fire,

'Where your flesh will waste in the flames that roar,
And my imps torment you forevermore.'
Then the cowboy awoke with an anguished cry,
His clothes wet with sweat and his hair standing high

Then he prayed as he never had prayed till that hour
To be saved from his sin and the demon's power;
And his prayers and his vows were not in vain,
For he never road the hell-bound train.

poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Put Out The Fire

Words and music by brian may
They called him a hero
In the land of the free
But he wouldnt shake my hand boy
He disappointed me
So I got my hand gun
And I blew him away
That critter was a bad guy
And I had to make him pay
You might fear for my reason
I dont care what they say
Look out baby its the season
For the mad masquerade
Put out the fire put out the fire put out the fire
Oh you need a bullet like a hole in the head
Put out the fire put out the fire put out the fire
Dont believe what your grand-daddy said
She was my lover
It was a shame that she died
But the constitutions right on my side
cause I caught my lover in the neighbours bed
I got retribution
Filled em all full of lead
Ive been told its the fashion
To let me on the streets again
Its nothing but a crime of passion
And Im not to blame
Put out the fire put out the fire put out the fire
You need a weapon like a hole in the head
Put out the fire put out the fire baby put out the fire
And let your sons and daughters sleep sound in their beds
You know a gun never killed nobody
You can ask anyone
People get shot by people
People with guns
Put out the fire put out the fire put out the fire
You need a gun like a hole in the head
Put out the fire put out the fire put out the fire
Just tell me that old fashioned gun law is dead
Shoot shoot..

song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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