Everything between us is black
A black sleep near to death
surrounds me and everything between you and me,
while police patrol cars
with flashing lights and sirens
are parking outside the yard
and you are at your lover’s house.
They are here to lock handcuffs around my wrists,
send by the lies that you trumpet forth
and when I only allow one policeman
to come into the yard
while your white policeman lover with the others
have to wait outside the yard
the lot of them are raging mad
as I threaten
to take legal action against them
and that one black policeman
finds your drugged out child
where he is sleeping,
learn from him
that they have come in vain
and that you are making arses of them and me,
he searches through the house
and I send the whole lot of them to hell
where they can go and crawl back in
and there’s death
like a deep dark grave,
where at a time
I had love for you
and my memory fades, about our gloomy story
of which now nothing remains
but for the realization
that your departure was my actual salvation
and between us everything is black,
all meaning has been wiped out eternally.
[Reference: Un grand sommeil noir… by Paul Verlaine.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
black RESPECT
Black shoes,
black suits,
black sandals
black you,
black specs,
black life,
black faces,
black casket dropped deep the dark grave,
Red ribbons,
red lights,
red flowers,
red wine.
Hearse sirens
wailing women,
Black speeches,
Blackened praises, all in all they call it the last respect
poem by Joub kahuria
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Policeman
Everyday he wakes up
As his bare feet hit the floor
Grabs a cup of coffee
Straps his magnum on once more
Feeds the cat he lives with
Since his wife walked out the door
In nine years hell retire with a pension
Everyday he suffers
cause he sees all kinds of pain
Sometimes feels helpless
In a world thats gone insane
Then he wins a battle
It restores his faith again
Its only human kindness he is after
He is a policeman, you know
All the years and nothing to show
He is a policeman, you know
Every night he comes home
With a sixpack all alone
Feeds the cat he lives with
He picks up the telephone
Needs to talk with someone
But the only love hes known
Was lost forever, he is a policeman
He is a policeman, you know
All the years and nothing to show
He is a policeman, you know
All the years and nothing to show
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mamas Got A Lover
Mamas got a lover
A painter I am told
Shes getting out of real estate
For the art scene down in old soho
Art scene down in old soho
Mamas got a lover
He owns a gallery
She says he likes collages but
The moneys in graffiti
Moneys in graffiti
Mamas got a lover
I met him yesterday
She says she hopes I like him
Maybe Ill send him a card on fathers day
Fathers day
Mamas got a lover
Theyre backing a film
Its about a working mother
Who gives birth to black and white siamese twins
Black and white siamese twins
Mamas got a lover
Hes got something to say
He says hes into dirt and rot
The essence of urban decay
Urban decay
Mamas got a lover
We met yesterday
She says she hopes I like him
Ill send him a card on fathers day
On fathers day
Mamas got a lover
I met him yesterday
Shes starting a new chapter
I wish she was on the last page
The last page
Mamas got a lover
We met yesterday
She says she hopes I like him
Ill send him a card on fathers day
Fathers day
Mamas got a lover (mamas got a lover)
Mamas got a lover (mamas got a lover), oh
Mamas got a lover (mamas got a lover)
My mamas got a lover (mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Opened The Door (List)
When I opened the door
I found:
four police cars (with flashing lights)
one police car (of which the siren was screaming)
nine policemen (at the garden gate) ,
ten of the neighbours (that were watching) ,
two dogs (that were roaring protecting)
three lightning bolts (that followed shortly after each other)
some rain pouring down (that was wetting everything)
one policeman (that was shouting)
and the reason for all of this:
you had laid a false charge.
poem by Gert Strydom
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First Party At Ken Kesey's With Hell's Angels
Cool black night thru redwoods
cars parked outside in shade
behind the gate, stars dim above
the ravine, a fire burning by the side
porch and a few tired souls hunched over
in black leather jackets. In the huge
wooden house, a yellow chandelier
at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakers
hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles
Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths
dancing to the vibration thru the floor,
a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlet
tights, one muscular smooth skinned man
sweating dancing for hours, beer cans
bent littering the yard, a hanged man
sculpture dangling from a high creek branch,
children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.
And 4 police cars parked outside the painted
gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.
December 1965
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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One Is 16 And The Other 18
the police officer arrested them
last night while they were strolling on the park
and this is the story:
he asks for their names and they say they have none
he asks from where they come from and they say
they do not really know
he asks them where they are going and they tell him
they are still undecided
he asks them what is in their bags and they say they are just nothing
he asks them some more and they say
they have nothing to say of themselves
they come from nowhere
and they are heading nowhere
and the police handcuffed them
these vagrants
these potential terrorists of this rural place
where the people still love peace
and this afternoon the police officer brings them all to me
and he tells me about the whole story
about his questions and their answers
and i am looking at them and they look at me
straight in my eyes
with dignity and without shame
with all pride
that they are telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth
that this one whose age is 16 and this other one whose age is 18
are simply talking about
themselves
and about us
and about the policeman himself
and surely, i agree
we have no names, we do not know where we come from and we do not
really know where we are going
we are all like that, in the strictest sense of the word, except
for our little pretensions
and so i ordered the policeman to release them all
and let them be
themselves
and let them go in peace and finish their journey with all ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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435
The Police Officer Arrested Them
Last Night While They Were Strolling On The Park
And This Is The Story:
He Asks For Their Names And They Say They Have None
He Asks From Where They Come From And They Say
They Do Not Really Know
He Asks Them Where They Are Going And They Tell Him
They Are Still Undecided
He Asks Them What Is In Their Bags And They Say They Are Just Nothing
He Asks Them Some More And They Say
They Have Nothing To Say Of Themselves
They Come From Nowhere
And They Are Heading Nowhere
And The Police Handcuffed Them
These Vagrants
These Potential Terrorists Of This Rural Place
Where The People Still Love Peace
And This Afternoon The Police Officer Brings Them All To Me
And He Tells Me About The Whole Story
About His Questions And Their Answers
And I Am Looking At Them And They Look At Me
Straight In My Eyes
With Dignity And Without Shame
With All Pride
That They Are Telling The Truth, The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth
That This One Whose Age Is 16 And This Other One Whose Age Is 18
Are Simply Talking About
Themselves And About Us
And About The Policeman Himself
And Surely, I Agree
We Have No Names, We Do Not Know Where We Come From And We Do Not
Really Know Where We Are Going
We Are All Like That, In The Strictest Sense Of The Word, Except
For Our Little Pretensions
And So I Ordered The Policeman To Release Them All
And Let Them Be Themselves
And Let Them Go In Peace And Finish Their Journey With All Ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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June 8th,2009 for Ezra, Wyatt and Kurt
three days before my first reading
I am out in the rain
the air: cool deep thick
I feel like
a bedbug
under a wet mattress
the gray of the sky
wraps between the black boughs
then around the green leaves of the trees
that stand as sentry witnesses
in the corners of my yard
June is indecisive
July knows what she wants
August sits pregnant in the heat
September shuts down like
a lover who's had one last fling
and despises herself for it.
this is early June
this day's made it's decision
wet, damp, sullen
'so it goes, ' said the dead writer
'so it goes...'
three days before my reading
I look to between the wet black branches
two mating squirrels are fighting
their squabble reminds me of my own
three days before my first reading...
I roll my poems through my head
walk across the yard to the shed
I wonder who
cleaned Auden's gutters
in the spring?
poem by R. James Sterzinger
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Stop Thief!
Policeman, policeman,
Help me please.
Someone went and stole my knees.
I’d chase him down but I suspect
My feet and legs just won’t connect.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Buried Between two Trees
Back home again
in the yard
I used to play in
So many memories here
of days long ago
for memories, I hold dear
Saw the grave of old shep
the dog I loved so
in this yard, he followed me every step
He's buried between two trees you see
buried him in my brand new quilt
and my mother was really mad at me
In this yard, I would bathe him
many years before
his old eyes grew dim
His bed layed by the cellar door
with tall trees, all around him
oh memories, of the dog I adored
Memories of the time
that the meter man came
he hit old shep, that wasn't very kind
This old yard, was all shep had
he guarded it with his life
when he died, I was very sad
This old yard, now has in it,
a lot of beautiful flowers, all round
between two trees, he wouldn't mind a bit.
The City of Sleep
Over the edge of the purple down,
Where the single lamplight gleams,
Know ye the road to the Merciful Town
That is hard by the Sea of Dreams--
Where the poor may lay their wrongs away,
And the sick may forget to weep?
But we--pity us! Oh, pity us!
We wakeful; ah, pity us! --
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
Weary they turn from the scroll and crown,
Fetter and prayer and plough--
They that go up to the Merciful Town,
For her gates are closing now.
It is their right in the Baths of Night
Body and soul to steep,
But we--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
Over the edge of the purple down,
Ere the tender dreams begin,
Look--we may look--at the Merciful Town,
But we may not enter in!
Outcasts all, from her guarded wall
Back to our watch we creep:
We--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We that go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Be Yourself
Someone falls to pieces
sleepin all alone
someone kills the pain
spinning in the silence
to finally drift away
someone gets excited
in a chapel yard
catches a bouquet
another lays a dozen
white roses on a grave
to be yourself is all that you can do
to be yourself is all that you can do
someone finds salvation in everyone
and another only fame
someone tries to hide themself
down inside himself he breathes
someone swears his true love
until the end of time
another runs away
seperate or united?
empty or insane?
to be yourself is all that you can do
to be yourself is all that you can do
to be yourself is all that you can do
to be yourself is all that you can do
even when you've had enough
been pulled apart
or been in love
every single memory of
could have been faces of love
don't lose any sleep tonight
i'm sure everything will end up alright
you may win love
but to be yourself is all that you can do
to be yourself is all that you can do
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lover Lover Lover
I asked my father,
I said, father change my name.
The one Im using now its covered up
With fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
He said, I locked you in this body,
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
Or to make some woman smile.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Then let me start again, I cried,
Please let me start again,
I want a face thats fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
I never never turned aside, he said,
I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
It was you who covered up my face.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
And may the spirit of this song,
May it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
A shield against the enemy.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Night About The Black Bird
last night this black bird
arrived in your house
bringing you the news
from its master
your hands and feet
tremble
for this was something
very terrible
last night you went
down from your room
and reflected upon the
roots of that old
big tree on the
yard of your house
the black bird had
already flown away
like a stone
thrown in the middle
of a dark night
things always disappear
from you
you ponder
about yourself
the first hello
the happiest moment
the past passes
like a film strip
in your mind
things always tell you about
some unhappy endings
the news about a
certain blackout is inevitable
the blackbird, yes,
the blackbird, now you are pretty sure about it
it was a crow bringing you
about a sad news
the color of which is
as black as the color
of midnight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shattered windows, Colors of white
Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.
On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.
A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.
The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.
The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.
poem by Linda ErikssonBique
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Jealous Lover
Lost and lonely
Clouds hide the sun
Out on the highway
It's all hit and run
Cold empty nights
Demons in my head
It's something I did
Or baby something you said
And it's hard to discover
That you're just another
Jealous Lover
And its so tough to take
But you're making no mistake
Jealous Lover
Oh Yeah
Don't want no other
Shades of red
Eyes of green
Sees black and white
And there's no in between
Ask me no questions
I'll tell you no lies
Still you keep thinking
That it's all alibis
And it's hard to discover
You're like any other
Jealous Lover
And you're saying I'm a fake
But you're making a mistake
Oh, no no
Every day it's the same
The faces and the names
How long can I go on
Playing this game
So I live for the nights
Soft candle lights
Today they love you
Then tomorrow they might
And it's hard to face
Someone else takes your place
Jealous Lover
And they're saying that's the brakes
But I got what it takes
Jealous Lover, ohh oh
Jealous Lover
Jealous Lover
Don't need no, no no
Don't need no other
Jealous Lover, yeah
Jealous Lover
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wolf
A scar that has healed on my finger
Reminds me of it everyday
The incident as vividly I remember
Tattooed in memory, you could say.
I was seventeen and my brother, older
Six children cramped in that place
A six -door apartment that cannot be wider
The ceiling was cracked and the paint lost its glaze.
We were not beggar poor but neither rich
So the absence of luxuries were a fact
We spent warm afternoons on the yard in which
We never craved for whatever we lacked.
One lazy afternoon, at almost sunset
We had come into the house for dinner
But my eldest brother remained there to let
The late hours of day somehow linger.
Then came this tall and boisterous man
Who demanded some ice for his drinks
My brother explained that we had none
But I felt there was some trouble, by instinct.
The man shouted expletives as my brother came in
And for fear, we shut the door behind him
As my brother said 'Duck! He's got a gun! '
We turned off the lights, the whole house was dim.
The man broke some windows and fired some shots
Gave vent to his anger out there on the street
As we ran out the backdoor into a vacant lot
A glass cut my hand and wounded my feet.
We went to the neighbors and we said 'Help us please! '
Our lives are in danger from a man with a gun
Can they kindly call up the authorities?
Then they told us, the drunk- 'He's a policeman.'
(This is a true story and that makes it more disturbing.)
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Boys In Blue
Kind policemen gently hitting people over the head with their loving truncheons. How sexy they look in their dark blue uniforms and walkie-talkies bristling with efficiency they've got such lovely names like Neil or Robert or Liam I wouldn't mind going behind the bushes with one of them! ! Arrest ME please, let me fondle those crazy handcuffs! Yes, let's have some S&M back at the station. Oooh, take me in your panda car! ! Let's have some body talk in the cells, punching me softly with his song, getting a kick out of my shins, I think you guys are awesome really, always where the action is brave and dedicated, bring back the George Cross and let me kiss your manly black shoes, you'd never hurt an immigrant would you, no I'm not racist I just hate black people and gays and ponces, I've got a mate who's collecting asbos he's got three already and I had fun when I was on community service stealing old ladies handbags while they made me a cuppa for doing their garden! Yeh I support the boys in blue alright don't talk to me about homophobia suck my dangling lily! ! But I don't like criminals, they're getting what they deserve living off our taxes string 'em up, make them work for a living the bloody skiving scumbags! Bring back the death penalty and just give me some peace and quiet to cuddle my policeman! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Red
There are three colores,
Each a meaning,
in its own,
a little more important,
Than the rest.
White is calm, white is blank,
white is pure and white is clean,
white is the color of doves,
white is the color of here and there,
white is pure.
Black is dark, black is full,
Black is absent and black is stained,
Black is the color of night,
Black is the color of life and death,
Black is dark.
There is one other to say,
The one that flows within,
This color is not white,
but it is pure,
this color is not black,
But it is dark,
This color is all,
It is calm, it is blank,
It is dark, it is full,
both pure and stained,
clean and absent,
it is life it is death,
it is here and it is there,
this is the color,
of everything,
It is red.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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Requiem for a rainy day
In stripes the drops splatter against the window
while others join them in a rainstorm,
the blue white of a thunder flash
that falls instantaneously
stays brightly caught on the inner eye
while some drops are still hanging.
On such a drizzly day,
it is said that my dad
was carried to his grave,
with the wind
drawing on mothers black veil
cypresses whipping to and thro
and tears were pouring down,
while the pastor read again
from the Bible and prayed,
people said their last words,
lying rose petals down during the rain,
but in my memory (that of a three year old child) ,
I remember it as a sunny day
on which black cars in a procession
parked just behind our house,
with people with shining shoes
walking on the dirt road
to where the cemetery
was situated across from the house.
With every rain shower
the one side of that grave
now wants to cave in still further
with the branches of the tree that was planted
thoughtlessly on mother’s place fluttering.
[Reference: Requiem vir ‘n reëndag (Requiem for a rainy day) by H.J. Pieterse.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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