Truly Said
Truly said
When body is laid on earth
After meeting natural or accidental death
Decency is must for laying the wreath
Some of the souls are born to deliver good
Even though they charge money but enjoy no sweetness of food
Life and death as they see it daily and overcome
Let us pray God to help their hands and welcome
We have crematorium ground where bodies are consummated
Hindu's generally prefer dead bodies to be cremated
Decorum. Respect and honor is maintained by permanent staff
Yet some of the people among then offer their last laugh
They share grief and see that no sentiments are hurt
Even though some consideration they certainly expect
I see the gloom and tragedy take over their faces
As everybody with dead bodies make desperate rush
Even though some of the sacred norms are not maintained
But their services in this regard is certainly praised
They provide timely assistance and direct rituals
Even though for them arrival of dead bodies are just casual
As we see the services and found many lacuna in hospitals
Here the bodies are placed nicely with rituals on rose petals
Hymns are sung and atmosphere is created to make one very sad
No one can hold tears at that time without feeling bad
I devoted much of the time on this article
As I have come across many troubles
Such type of narration at length is necessary and must
As their services are to be appreciated with belief and trust
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
The Price Of War
Their mangled and broken bodies
return home in flag draped caskets.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
while a band plays patriotic
hymns for their services rendered
and a choir to give them a voice.
If I may be so bold to say
that I see no sweetness in death
nor the acclaimed gloriousness
that lyrical poets have penned.
what I see is sugarcoated
rationale for warmongering
dolts. I see no glory in that.
Mortem est pretium bellum.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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The Extasie
Sat we two, one another best,
Bodies were left; souls rose and met.
They transacted their love at best.
Struck by the sight of their bodies,
Motionless, the souls asked themselves:
‘Our bodies why so we forbear?
They are ours, though they are not we.’
We are flames and they are matter.
‘We owe them thanks because they thus
did us, to us, a first convoy
yielded their forces, senses to us.’
The souls returned to their bodies,
And declared in solemnity:
“To feel love, we live in bodies.”
29.10.2008
[ Based on the poem with the same title, written by the famous love poet John Donne 1572-1631]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Run
[Violent J:]
Something has woke my a thump on my roof, it was followed by crashing, more
thumping ensued
I jumped out of my bed thinking I'd been invaded, heard smashing, more
pounding, the sound escalated
Looked out of my window, blood dripped down thy glass, I see bodies lay twisted
and mangled on grass,
I ran into thy main room and Shaggy was dead, so was Nate the Mac, Jumpsteady
and ABK
Bolted out of thy house to see if it's a joke, I heard hundreds of car alarms,
saw flames and smoke
and thy sky above red, I see dead bodies fallin' it's raining with corpses thy
blood is appalling
[Chorus: Shaggy 2 Dope and a gang of Juggalos]
Mama told me when it rains - IT POURS, but never mentioned Dead Bodies - DEAD
BODIES
Mama told me when it rains - IT POURS, La de da da de la da de -
DEAD BODIES
[Violent J:]
I never seen so many.... horrified looks on people's faces...
(Thy blood is appalling)
I hope I never see what all them people saw... and put them in there places...
(Thy blood is appalling),
The sun was so hot... So hot...
I was burning... Yeah
Dead bodies lay randomly some stack in piles, on all of there faces pour
horror, no smiles
I see children, and ciders, and ninjas my age, all lay naked and mangled, most
withered for days,
I found safety a shelter I'm under a tree; only fingers and organs come falling
on me,
I lay sleepless for days as thy raining continued, thy heat of thy sun baking
corpses like food
Then it finally stopped I walk knee deep in blood, over piles of bodies threw
what was my hood
It was right at that moment thy Wraith had appeared, and thy message it left me
might sound kind of weird
But take all that I'm seeing and opposite that, truth is I'm thy one dead and
this is my Hell's Pit.
song performed by by Insane Clown Posse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hell's Forecast
VIOLENT J: Something had woke me a thump on my roof, it was followed by crashing, more thumping ensued. I jumped out of my bed thinking Id been invaded, heard smashing, more pounding, the sound escalated. Looked out of my window, blood dripped down the glass, I see bodies lay twisted and mangled on grass. I ran into the main room and Shaggy was dead, so was Nate the Mac, Jumpsteady and ABK. Bolted out the house to see if its a joke, I heard hundreds of car alarms, saw flames and smoke and the sky above red, I see dead bodies fallin, its raining with corpses, the blood is appalling.
SHAGGS 2 DOPE AND A GANG OF JUGGALOS (CHORUS): Mama told me when it rains-IT POURS, but never mentioned dead bodies-DEAD BODIES. Mama told me when it rains-IT POURS, La de da da de la da de.
VIOLENT J: I never seen so many...horified looks on peoples faces...(The blood is appalling) I hope I never see what all them people saw...and put them in their places...(The blood is appalling) The sun was so hot...So ho...I was burning...Yeah. Dead bodies lay randomly, some stack in piles, on all of their faces pure horror, no smiles, I see children, and elders, and ninjas my age, all lay naked and mangled, most withered for days. I found safety a shelter, Im under a tree; only fingers and organs come falling on me. I lay sleepless for days the raining continued, the heat of the sun baking corpses like food. Then it finally stopped, I walk knee deep in blood, over piles of bodies through what was my hood. It was right at that moment the Wraith had appeared, and the message it left me might sound kind of weird, but take all that Im seeing and opposite that, truth is Im the one dead and this is my Hells Pit.
song performed by by Insane Clown Posse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence please
If you don’t prefer honourable death,
If you have courage and enough wealth
Then come here and admit in hospital,
In no time your body will have rose petal,
We have distinction of sending you to heaven,
In other places you may not have chances even,
Here we have all the facilities to rush at eleven,
Rest be assured services at low ebb and proven,
Our doctors get beating all the time,
Not the service but the money goal prime,
We respect people’s bashing and wrath,
Even window panes and glasses crash,
This doesn’t represent anything bad,
You come in happy mood and depart as sad,
Even healthy prefer to stay here and go mad,
What for we are here in white cloths clad?
You will not know what organ has disappeared,
Body all normal with no stitches appeared,
Some times nothing performed and sealed,
Scissors, towel, glove inside concealed,
How many die unnatural and get noticed?
At least we take out organ and go unnoticed,
Both the ways the death seems so natural,
But we receive beatings and abuses oral,
May be this not good place for living dead?
After all we combine together and operation head,
Living may find place on the floor,
Simple reason we can’t show the door,
Many poor may not have fan,
It’s possible no money and can,
But for dead we have A/C room,
For final departure and life’s doom
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The roadside bathers
The water of life streamed
Through the broken roadside tap
The sun burned like a death-fire
On bodies, bloodless and charred.
The white cloth clung to flesh
Laying bare embers of lost hopes
Unceasing the water flowed
Onto the soap-lathered bodies
And thence into the foul gutter
If only time went reverse
These ebony bodies would love
To swim back to the safety
Of that primeval water body
From where they had journeyed here
A journey back from fire to water.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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Today Is Your day
Gold, diamonds and war!
A long way to freedom with a lot of dead bodies around me;
But today is your day and we have to enjoy it on this bed.
Gold and diamonds brought us money,
But thre same gold and diamond brought us various wars! !
And now there are many dead bodies around me,
But i will still have you in mind always my love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Body Architects
i'm starting from scratch
i'm putting the pieces together
day by day.. one by one.. i'm the only one
my surroundings affect the structure.. of my state of mind
just when you think everything is fine
the foundation cracks... in a fraction of time
so look in the mirror.. it doesn't lie
we... we all forget
that we're the architects of the bodies we inhabit
we... we all forget
that we're the architects of the bodies we inhabit
i skipped the school of the learned for the... majority
but i figured it out the hard way.. my own way.. the only way
and it made me stronger... bigger than the rest
i'm the architect that knows my body best
we... we all forget
that we're the architects of the bodies we inhabit
we... we all forget
that we're the architects of the bodies we inhabit
we rock the party that rocks the body!!
we... we all forget
that we're the architects of the bodies we inhabit
we... we all forget
that we're the architects of the bodies we inhabit
song performed by by Tommy Lee from Never A Dull Moment
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Naked Bodies...
naked bodies...
great love...
darkest world...
shinny bodies only...
met because of GOD needs
the man i am of yours..
the great lover...
strong one whom you need..
here we are together..
alone no with us...
only me and you...
there where we can make all what our hearts and bodies needs...
all desires all lust we will get...
there we are...
where that GOD sent both us...
to be there naked...
naked...
naked as the day we were born...
when GOD created us...
created into our souls a great lust...
lust that never go away from inside...
lust that could give more happiness to the both...
to get its completeness...
till both melts...
so no more great lust than they gets..
as humans we are...
as a lovers we are...
as our GOD needs...
so come baby...
come and don`t waste what we created for...
created to live a happiness..
created to love...
created to make great love..
created to make happiness through our lust..
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
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A Sonnet Of Painful
the loud sound of blast
broke the silence of the night
splitted dream
start creating the sonnet of painful
innocence babies crying
children screaming bewilderment
they could only crying and screaming
since they are really in frightened
debris everywhere, flame here and there
bodies lay bathed in blood
bodies lay lifeless
some moaning, some silent
some hurt
some dead
some became defectively
some became orphan
tears will not be enough to pay for grief
regret will not return the dead
the guilt has to live tormented
in this world and hereafter
poem by Meilani Rozavian
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Robes and Bodies
Kings, juries or priests are known by their robes.
Robes, not their bodies, demand attentions.
Souls are known by bodies they occupy.
Bodies shade souls as robes shade bodies.
(15.05.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Which Disease You Suffer From?
Those who are having an obsession
to make their bodies thin suffer
from, 'Anorexia Nervosa'.
Those who are having an obsession
to make their bodies muscular suffer
from, 'Bigorexia Nervosa'.
Those who are having an obsession
to make their bodies perfect
suffer from, 'Athletica Nervosa'.
Those who are preoccupied with an
imaginary defect of their body
suffer from, Body Dysmorphic Disorder”.
Those who love their bodies
while yelling, “To hell with the world”
suffer from, “Narcissistic Disorder”.
Those who refuse to take care
of bodies while shouting, ” To hell with it”
suffer from, 'Diogenes Syndrome'.
Hey! Buddy, Which disease you suffer from?
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
05/05/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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August 17th
Surely I will be disquieted
by the hospital, that body zone-
bodies wrapped in elastic bands,
bodies cased in wood or used like telephones,
bodies crucified up onto their crutches,
bodies wearing rubber bags between their legs,
bodies vomiting up their juice like detergent, Here in this house
there are other bodies.
Whenever I see a six-year-old
swimming in our aqua pool
a voice inside me says what can't be told...
Ha, someday you'll be old and withered
and tubes will be in your nose
drinking up your dinner.
Someday you'll go backward. You'll close
up like a shoebox and you'll be cursed
as you push into death feet first.
Here in the hospital, I say,
that is not my body, not my body.
I am not here for the doctors
to read like a recipe.
No. I am a daisy girl
blowing in the wind like a piece of sun.
On ward 7 there are daisies, all butter and pearl
but beside a blind man who can only
eat up the petals and count to ten.
The nurses skip rope around him and shiver
as his eyes wiggle like mercury and then
they dance from patient to patient to patient
throwing up little paper medicine cups and playing
catch with vials of dope as they wait for new accidents.
Bodies made of synthetics. Bodies swaddled like dolls
whom I visit and cajole and all they do is hum
like computers doing up our taxes, dollar by dollar.
Each body is in its bunker. The surgeon applies his gum.
Each body is fitted quickly into its ice-cream pack
and then stitched up again for the long voyage
back.
poem by Anne Sexton
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special Oil
On a fine wee hours
I suddenly found myself
among the heaps of dead bodies
as I was eaten yesterday so they were
all by none other than men to become
more valuable than them and waiting
patiently in a queue to be decomposed
with a magic lotion to be put to become
smoke of the factory having been gotten
a chance to pip into the deep pit of a well
of oil I saw with a great shock innumerable
lines of bodies some were dead some were
half alive decomposing with super special
chemicals to become oil after thousands of
years to be fit for the factories exactly like me
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Passion
As I look in your eyes,
In the pale moon light,
And see your lil smile,
That lights up the night.
As I feel you body,
Pressed tight up to mine,
Your skin feel as silk,
As our bodies intertwine.
Feeling the passion,
With each touch of you skin,
The breathing gets harder,
As I kiss softly your lips slowly to your chin.
Our hands are wondering,
Exploring each others bodies as they go,
Kissing and caressing each sensual spot,
As we feel the passion start to flow.
Thrusting to one another,
As the heat starts to rise,
Kissing your soft lips,
As I slide my hand up your thighs.
As the sweat starts dripping,
Our bodies start to glide,
Feeling as tho we are one,
Each time our bodies collide.
Each time we connect,
Its like the waves crashing ashore,
The feeling is so wonderful,
As never before.
poem by Richard Goolsby
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Paschandale
(SmithHarris)
In a foreign field he lay
Lonely soldier, unknown grave
On his dying words he prays
Tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
Last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
Kill tim 'til my very own death
On my face I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again
In the smoke, in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon
Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud, no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man's land, God only knows
Into jaws of death we go
Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen
Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to god no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go
Blood is falling like the rain
Its crimso
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dream Of The Flesh
we are in the river
naked
our bodies meet
like
one body
missing
another body
and the river
becomes
one warm
water
trickling down
our two bodies
body to body
flesh to flesh
hands
to hands and
arms entwine
like some
chains of
daisies
to our necks
this oneness
that we
finally make
eyes to eyes
closing
and lips to lips
searching
tongues
we dare
search
our souls
if they
are there
too
in this
fusion
for the
meantime
we have no time
to ask
the river
has no name
even
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Spaces Some Silences
by being not confident
at first you may wear masks
lots of them
in different sizes
and colors
and you face yourself
with mirrors around you
and you laugh
this is very
interesting
I will not be hurt
I will even hurt
Them
Then
Someone comes
She loves you
And wants
The real you
And you love
Her
When the time
To make love
& kiss you
remove the masks
both of you
it is more exciting
than interesting
this time
the pain is stronger
too
it is the fairness
of hide and seek
that tells
about pain and pleasure
wearing masks and
removing them
making love and
undressing
naked both of
you feel something
more is concealed
this time
you go beyond
you peel skins
subcutaneously
the soul demands
no bodies as masks
and as you close
both of your eyes
and see what is
beyond these bodies
these subcutaneous masks
tell yourselves
beyond these bodies
there is still more
as true love so demands
some spaces some silences
between you and him
where God must dwell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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41
by being not confident
at first you may wear masks
lots of them
in different sizes
and colors
and you face yourself
with mirrors around you
and you laugh
this is very
interesting
I will not be hurt
I will even hurt
Them
Then
Someone comes
She loves you
And wants
The real you
And you love
Her
When the time
To make love
& kiss you
remove the masks
both of you
it is more exciting
than interesting
this time
the pain is stronger
too
it is the fairness
of hide and seek
that tells
about pain and pleasure
wearing masks and
removing them
making love and
undressing
naked both of
you feel something
more is concealed
this time
you go beyond
you peel skins
subcutaneously
the soul demands
no bodies as masks
and as you close
both of your eyes
and see what is
beyond these bodies
these subcutaneous masks
tell yourselves
beyond these bodies
there is still more
as true love so demands
some spaces some silences
between you and him
where God must dwell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Merchant of Dhaka
You can't make money without the factory that cremates the workers alive.
And by the time you piled and filled your coffers with TAKA
You decided to treat the workers as creatures to be used and their bodies mutilated to reap Dollars
Your greed becomes far-reaching.
Who are 'they', these eponymous?
Anonymous, charred bodies
Who worked relentlessly to bring a huge sum of foreign money from far and wide to make you filthy rich?
It is difficult to be more specific than to say
They are the life-line of your industry.
They are related by labour to 'you, the clothing merchant'.
And those workers have to be cremated alive! Some workers have
To be burnt alive in the shrinking hole of hell that you call 'FACTORY! '
And they just happen to be standing about
Like fireflies on a dark, dark night.
She (the female charred body) is, in short, one of many
Of means to an end, that end being to enlarge your ravenous tummy
The production machineries
And to make you prosper and chubbier.
The inhuman working condition, the lowest of wages in the world,
The sexual harassment, the physical torture and mutilation, the absence of everything human,
All these singularities help you pile profits on profits;
You can't make a mountain of riches
Without mutilating their bodies,
All of them in one enclosed hole.
And if versions of the story, the complete
Valency of the tragedy is to be believed
You can't make mountains full of riches without curtailing and telling
At the very least their life span and quite possibly
An imaginary cock and bull story.
A charred female body speaks
To accuse you
You can't, You can't, You can't.
That charred female body may actually have witnessed the carnage with one hundred and twenty one co-workers the final mutilation of their human bodies.
They may have wished to confirm -
You can't make money without the factory
That cremates the workers alive.
Outside the carnage where a few gathers to find the familiar faces of fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers
You are crying your own loss: 'O, my TAKA. O. My TAKA';
Someone is going to provide 'duty of care' to your TAKA lost
Assuring you that your money won't be lost
Would be recovered from the ashes of numbers.
poem by Dr Khairul Chowdhury
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