The Stewards of Destruction
The bird was routed from its nest
by the growl of a tractor’s roar.
Slash and burn, closer it came,
a tank in Mankind’s war.
The macaw soon was homeless
as its tree was knocked to earth.
Slash and burn, some peasants came
And hacked for all their worth
Elsewhere too, the Forest bears
brute evidence of man.
Slash and burn, the trees are gone
Crops planted there by hand.
Some miracle medicinals
Are forever lost down there
Slash and burn, fates’ wheel turns
Homo “sapiens” doesn’t care.
The habitats are dying
Their inhabitants are too.
Slash and burn, will man cause
his own extinction too?
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Slash sat me down at his house and said, You've got to clean up your act. You know you've gone too far when Slash is saying, Look, you've got to get into rehab.
quote by Charlie Sheen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slish slash my wrists
With a slish and a slash.
My wrists pour of blood.
Blood surrounds me.
My emotions are free.
Only for a while.
With each new cut
I have to make.
I loose all hope
That things will ever change.
With a new scar.
It has the story to tell.
What a mess im in.
Each cut
For a reason.
The dropp of blood.
All the hatred
All the pain
It contains.
With the slish and slash.
Of the razor blade
I have a glimmer
Of hope
Just to get
Through the day.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writer's Disposal
Hurt and tense are writer's slaves
So she'll slash through page by page
Burning holes with vivid tongue
Still the feeling strikes as young
Through and through this time again
Misery welcomes her like a friend
Slash and slash and through and through
She spells her feelings as if they're new
Instead of skin she beats a page
A healthy cure, sure, lest she names
These demons, the things that she writes about
That she names other names to give them doubts
Things like this she knows all too well
Her hurts and pains often etch the spell
Before she even thinks to open her eyes
She's solved her feelings with a metaphor for cries
These nameless names named through and through
She possibly could be writing of you
And name you a snake; what harm is there in that?
Proof, invalid; your name is intact
These nameless things she knows all too well
You might not know but help etch her spell
Because intended or vicious, her works are neither
You'd ask what they're about; but she might not know either
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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Sonnet: To Abort is Sheer Ruthlessness
What heart of man can cut a plant with buds?
What cruel mind will fell a tree with fruits;
None slash the branches with blossoms for woods;
No one removes fruit-bearing tree by roots.
Just fools would use grenades to fish in lakes;
You cannot have tree-house and also tree;
No offspring come from factories as makes;
God gave us mind and heart to think afree.
Yet, man resorts to abortions often;
A tiny man is maimed or killed this way;
Will not the heart of mankind bit soften?
One life shouldn’t take another any day!
All lives are same to God, born or unborn;
Allow the baby in womb, to be born.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-10-2008
poem by John Celes
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A Bird's Happiness
A cherry hello to you
So the bird said to me
I asked him why he was happy
As he was sitting in a tree
I looked at him in the tree
And wondered what he was doing
Then he said that he saw a worm
And it was what he was pursuing
So we should take lessons
From the bird in the tree
Ashe was getting ready to build a nest
As he had use to be
Then he returned to his nest
As happy as could be
He sang and sang
As he was in the tree.
poem by Dolores Mahan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chiselled Silence
sleep not
slash not
not even
slap her
before her parting
rain talked
outside
inside
talked silence
the window witnessed
unseen thread
tied up
the sounds
with silence
inside with out
outside in
still the painting
unpainted
only the mind
holds the canvas
standing lone her profile
while
dumb his offering
greets the hell to cheer up
sleep not
slash not
not even slapped her
when she uttered
'I live not to die in cage'!
Pranab k c
09/04/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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The Numbers
i think i am beginning to know the numbers
their meanings
inside the big dome the dancers are practicing
the steps are numbered
and the whole day the leader keeps the count
one two three four
five six
seven eight nine ten
eight seven six five
four three
two one
four three two one
five six seven eight
eight seven six five four three
two one
the whole day for the whole week for the whole month
these numbers are counted like
one two three four
five six
seven eight nine ten
eight seven six five
four three
two one
four three two one
five six seven eight
eight seven six five four three
two one
i am standing by the door
looking at the dancers jump to the count of
six five four three
two one
they run and stop and run again
and stamp on the left and on the right
and point and slash
and jump and
kick and sway and
stand and kneel
and kick and slash
eight seven six five
four three two one
four three
four three two one
numbers indeed
are numbing
they make us numb
they are making us dumb
five four three two one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Running Gun Blues
I count the corpses on my left, I find Im not so tidy
So I better get away, better make it today
Ive cut twenty-three down since friday
But I cant control it, my face is drawn
My instinct still emotes it
I slash them cold, I kill them dead
I broke the gooks, I cracked their heads
Ill bomb them out from under the beds
But now Ive got the running gun blues
It seems the peacefuls stopped the war
Left generals squashed and stifled
But Ill slip out again tonight
Cause they havent taken back my rifle
For I promote oblivion
And Ill plug a few civilians
Ill slash them cold, Ill kill them dead
Ill break them gooks, Ill crack their heads
Ill slice them till theyre running red
But now Ive got the running gun blues
Ill slash them cold, Ill kill them dead
Ill break them gooks, Ill crack their heads
Ill slice them till theyre running red
But now Ive got the running gun blues
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
(oh oh oh oh)
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hatin' On Someone
I'm starring at your car right now
I'm Thinking about all the things
I could do to it
I could
Egg your car
Scratch up the paint
Slash your tires
Spray paint your windows
I got to be honest it's tempting
Cause you really hurt me
It shouldn't matter what you do or say
But guess what it does
I usually would of let this go
But you really hurt me bad
And I'm sick of being so hurt
So Now I'm staring at your car
With a dozen eggs to throw at it
I have keys to scratch it up
I have a knife to slash your tires
And spray paint for your windows
Now you will have fun cleaning that up
So maybe next time you'll think twice
Before you hurt someone like me
Or maybe I just declared war
But either way it made me feel better
It's just to bad your car
Had to take the beating for you
The Tree's Devil
The tree, how it sits
so still in the ground.
It is its homeplace,
forever it stays there,
unless it is rudely uprooted.
It's branches slowly sway
to and from with the soft breeze.
Soon, night will come
and with it it will bring
the devils wind.
It will howl and whine
threw the tree's limbs,
and the tree will anger
and slash its branches out,
trying to stop the dreadful wind.
poem by Alison Miotke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slash Dot Dash
slash dot dash dot slash dot dash dot slash dot dash dot slash dot com
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slash dot dash dot slash dot com
slash dot dash dot slash dot com
slash dot dash dot slash dot dash dot
dot dot dot
dot com
(slash dot com {com})
(slash dot com {com})
(slash dot com {com})
(slash dot com {com})
(slash dot com {com})
(slash dot com {com})
(slash dot com {com})
dash dot dash dot dash dot com
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(slash dot com {com})
(slash dot com {com})
dash dot dash dot dash dot com
song performed by by Fatboy Slim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tree
My life is a tree,
Yoke-fellow of the earth;
Pledged,
By roots too deep for remembrance,
To stand hard against the storm,
To fill by Place.
(But high in the branches of my green tree there is a wild
bird singing:
Wind-free are the wings of my bird: she hath built no
mortal nest.)
poem by Karle Wilson Baker
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Rehashment
I remember the castigation
I remember the molestation
I remember the infestation
I remember trying to escape from you!
I remember cutting my wrist
I remember releasing the blood
I remember catching the drops
I remember the undulating flood
I remember it wouldn't stop
I remember opression you put me through!
Rehash
The slash
Rehash
The gash
Rehash
The relapse
Rahash
The roots of what I do
This scar is internal
This wound is eternal
The hate is forever
The soul that you severed
I remember getting all the blame
For a person's stigma and shame
I remember when you said 'die'
I remember all the pain in my life
Rehash
The slash
Rehash
The gash
Rehash
The relapse
Rahash
The roots of what I do
I REMEMBER YOU TRYING TO CONSTRUE
poem by Crazy Eight
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Minefield
Thunder came from the grass
and open the earth split
tearing the wheels from a armoured car
and again the ear deafening roar
just as before lightening leaped
right from the ground
slicing at a battle tank
and then most of the armour
draw back to safe ground
and two officers went right in
through the battle din of machinegun
and tank canon
to extract a tank with a wounded man
while shrapnel fell and bullets screamed
across their heads
and at the craters edge repaired,
got that piece of armour moving again.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Bird Of Love And Desire
little bird of love and desire
do not perch upon a twig so far from me
fly a little bit closer
my heart is full of love and desire too
come closer and hover on the soft spot of my chest
there is a nest there
where you can rest
where you can soundly sleep
come little bird live with me
sing me the songs of love for i am weary
sing, sing, sing little bird and live with me
for i am weak and weary
when my eyes close little bird
come and heed this lover's last bid
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sweet Harmony
There is no wind blowing
The tree stands green, serene.
It enjoys the bird's singing
And wonders: 'What does it mean? '
Blessed by this soft rain
Both the bird and the tree
Keep singing tunes again
Flooding the earth with glee!
The bird's chants soar above the tree
This one feels nurtured by them
Its leaves dancing onto the sea
Where the bird goes and treasures them!
poem by Maria C. Costa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rock n' roll is about attitude and rebellion. It's supposed to be fun and spontaneous.
If Only I Were a Bird
If only I were a bird,
my days would be forever happy
Chirp from tree to tree
And live worry-free.
If only I were a bird,
I would fly from
Cyprus to Chile
and have a tour on earth.
If only I were a bird,
I would dropp fruit seeds
Hoping a fruit tree will grow
For other birds to take shade.
If only I were a bird
I won't be
worrying about work
Bills, car, or clothes
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Farm
There was Dai Puw. He was no good.
They put him in the fields to dock swedes,
And took the knife from him, when he came home
At late evening with a grin
Like the slash of a knife on his face.
There was Llew Puw, and he was no good.
Every evening after the ploughing
With the big tractor he would sit in his chair,
And stare into the tangled fire garden,
Opening his slow lips like a snail.
There was Huw Puw, too. What shall I say?
I have heard him whistling in the hedges
On and on, as though winter
Would never again leave those fields,
And all the trees were deformed.
And lastly there was the girl:
Beauty under some spell of the beast.
Her pale face was the lantern
By which they read in life's dark book
The shrill sentence: God is love.
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
poem by Ronald Stuart Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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