Outspoken Token Against Unspoken Horrors Bespoken Under the Cloak of War
From atom bomb to sniper's mortal mark
what justifies the twisted logic found
by man - his own worst enemy - who'd sound
his trumpet blast though flound'ring in the dark?
Machiavelli, Bismarck now lie stark,
but blood and iron power plays profound
appear to those who chose high hopes to ground
in tanks and serried ranks, as brutal shark
atop the food-chain profits they'd earmark
to turn stool-pigeon fool to corpse hell-bound.
Through history war's logic raw, unsound,
has channelled aggression more through bite than bark,
living room for dread doom, tomb's question-mark
which hangs on self-made gallow, time unwound.
Unwound or wound? Crime 'gainst humanity,
Freedom, fame, named for blind 'who would not see.'
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Unwound
Give me a bottle of your very best
cause Ive got a problem Im gonna drink off my chest
Gonna spend the night gettin down
cause that woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
That woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
She kicked me outta the house and tonight Im whiskey-bound
Im gonna be the drunkest fool in town
cause that woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
Well she packed my bags and opened up the door
And I got the feeling she didnt want me around no more
She caught me in a lie, I was messin around
And that woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
That woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
She kicked me outta the house and tonight Im whiskey-bound
Im gonna be the drunkest fool in town
cause that woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood Bound
Countdown, descending down to zero
Bursting into flames
Can't you see the coming of a hero
On this enchanting day
So stand up and be counted
In the solar glance in the desert sand
No longer the hunted
United we are 'til the day we fall
A chain unbreakable
Every link is allied to our mighty vow
We're Blood Bound - We aim for the sun
The luminous moon will take us high over ground
We're Blood Bound - Collecting the stars
We hold a power that is greater than all
We're Blood Bound
Watch out, the heathen's all around us
Always watch you back
We've got a lust for freedom
Whatever they say we know we'll stay
We are indestructible
And no matter what happens we will rise above
We're Blood Bound - We aim for the sun
The luminous moon will take us high over ground
We're Blood Bound - Collecting the stars
We hold a power that is greater than all
We're Blood Bound
Look into my eyes
Tell me what is hidden deep inside
Chains about to break
It's the everlasting freedom for us all
We're Blood Bound - We aim for the sun
The luminous moon will take us high over ground
We're Blood Bound - Collecting the stars
We hold a power together
We're Blood Bound - We aim for the sun
The luminous moon will take us high over ground
We're Blood Bound - Collecting the stars
We hold a power together - Blood Bound
Power forever - Blood Bound
Power - We're Blood Bound
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cycles in Season
CYCLES IN SEASON
The grain, who'd reap life's golden grain
knows dust to dust's returned again,
though mortal flesh rots none impound
pure spirit risen, strength fresh found.
New found, to greet soul's season new,
scope springs again, hopes shall renew,
conceit that speeds humanity
grounds down needs through greed, vanity.
Profanity will seek full pound
of flesh before the clock’s unwound,
while wounded pride, vile greed for gain,
turns self-destructive 'gainst the grain.
Yet grain finds fertile soil. Long lain
awaiting stained-glass window pane
which cycle starts charts rich rebound
from dark profound to light recrowned.
18 June 1991 revised 14 December 2008
robi03_0390_robi03_0000 XXX_EJZ
previous title Circles in Season for previous version see below
Circles in Season
The grain, who reaps the golden grain
knows dust to dust’s returned again, -
though flesh may rot, one can’t impound
the spirit risen, strength new-found.
New found, to greet a season new,
strength springs again, hopes can renew,
but hopes that speed humanity
are ground down by its vanity.
Its vanity will seek full pound
of flesh before the clock’s unwound,
and wounded pride with greed for gain
agrees to go against the grain...
18 June 1991
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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(Angry Poem) Blood On The Floor
Mark My Words,
This Will Not End Good.
I Can Already See The Blood On Floor.
Spilt Everywhere.
All Because Of You.
All Because You Can Never Lose.
Always Right Never Wrong.
Just Walk Away Leave It Alone.
Its Like Trying To Talk To A Brick Wall.
There's Just No Way To Get Through To You.
Mark My Words,
This Will No End Good. I Can Already Blood On The Floor.
Must We Go Through This Once More.
The Stress Builds,
The Headache Becomes A Migraine.
Too Close To Just Losing It.
Becoming Completely Insane
Going On A Rampage.
I Just Can't Stop Now,
I Won't Stop Now.
Not Till The Place Is Burnt To The Ground.
Buried In Mounds Of Ash Lie's A Key chain Its All That Will Be Left Of You.
Please Oh Please Just Stop Enough Is Enough.
A Scream After Every Heartbeat.
No Reason,
No Logic Behind All This.
Just Swallow That God Damn Pride.
Or Just Go Kill Yourself,
Yes Oh Yes Beautiful Suicide.
This World Would Be So Much Of A Better Place.
Mark My Words,
This Will Not End Good.
I Can Already See The Blood On The Floor.
You Opened This Door.
Now Theirs No Going Back.
You Better Just Shut Up Now, Now, Now.
I Say Bow, Bow, Bow,
Beg For Mercy, Kiss My God Damn Feet.
For We Have Reach The Tipping Point.
Just Relax It Will Be Quick.
It Will Be A Great Ending To This.
Mark My Words,
This Will Not End Good.
I Can Already See The Blood On The Floor.
As The Anger In Me Soar.
Like An Eagle I'm Flying So High Right Now.
With Nothing But Pure Adrenaline
I'm Prepared To Rip You Heart Out With My Talons So Sharp.
Mark My Words,
This Will Not End Good.
I Can already See The Blood On The Floor.
Theirs Just So Much Blood On The Floor.
Just So God Damn Much Blood On The Floor.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Eternal Sigh
Time is for dying
Never for living
Time is for taking
Never forgiving
Time is forever
whenever that'll be
Time is trapped
Inside you and me.
Time is lying
To everyone
Time is crying
It's almost gone
Time is precious
But only holds pain
Time continues
Again and again.
Time is ticking
without a sound
Time is decreasing
It's never unwound
Time is fading
Away into space
Time is moving
Sliding over my face,
Time is such a waste.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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Where Are You Now
Maybe I took for granted
Youd be around
To pick me up on my way down
I thought my feet were planted
Firmly on the ground
til one day my whole world came unwound
And like a ball of yarn
Kept neatly on a spool
You held the life together
Of this broken-hearted fool
And what once was the exception
Now seems to be the rule
And theres a burnin question
A fire in my mind
You always had the answers
The ones I couldnt find
So all Im askin
Is where are you now?
What father time would sell me
Id take it all
If only youd come back around
But then if time should spell me
Well I might take the call
But theres no way of knowin where Im bound
So here comes another
Fine mess Ive got into
And if I knew which way to turn
Id still turn to you
So if everything is said and done
What am I supposed to do?
And thats the burnin question
On fire in my mind
You always had the answers for me
Time after time
So all Im askin
Is where are you now?
All Im askin
Is where are you now?
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whiskey On The Wound
He was strong and of sound mind
'Til the day he crossed the line
Between an east Kentucky girl and his wife
In his heart there wasn't room
So they tore his heart in two
And he survived by pouring whiskey on the wound
Another faithless heart
Locked inside a neon tomb
Hiding in the dark and
Pouring whiskey on the wound
Well the girl was just the first
In a string of bad to worse
Yet the bourbon seems to deaden all that hurts
But closin' time comes way too soon
He can't abide a cold bedroom
So he survives by pouring whiskey on the wound
Another faithless heart
Locked inside a neon tomb
Hiding in the dark and
Pouring whiskey on the wound
By tomorrow he'll be gone
And they'll say he left alone
But that old bar stool won't be empty long
'Cause some other hopeless fool
Trying to escape the truth
Will sit right down
And pour some whiskey on the wound
Now it's another faithless heart
Locked inside a neon tomb
Hiding in the dark and
Pouring whiskey on the wound
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Logic suffers
Desire blurs the logic.
Passion wounds the logic.
Fear maims the logic.
Rage kills the logic.
They spring from instincts
To protect the self
And hence ignore the logic.
Logic is meant for the third person.
24.06.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Maybe (feat. Holly Dunn)
MAYBE
Maybe, is a word that hangs between us
It's the thing to say when all else has failed
Maybe we failed, maybe
Maybe, but I can't bare say it's over
Til the love we found is hopelessly lost
Maybe I could, maybe not.
Our lives might have come unwound
But have we've come so far
That we can't turn the hurt around
Our hearts still remain the same
Oh, first to wonder why
Oh, ask to make a change.
But maybe
Maybe, if we hold on to tomorrow
Just hold on, just hold on
Then we just might find a feeling again
Not let it end.
Maybe, it's a word that hangs between us
Maybe, time would help the wondering to stop
Maybe we will know, maybe not
Maybe, maybe.
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Questions
Soul, dost thou shudder at the narrow tomb?
Heart, dost thou dread to moulder in the dust—
To meet the fate that all things mortal must,
Strength in its pride, and beauty in its bloom?
What have ye done to merit nobler doom?
How used one life that ye for more should lust?
Time in his course doth all things downward thrust:
The unborn generations wait for room!
Blind we were born, blind die: yet we must still
Take God to task with Whither? Whence? and Why?
What if God, giving us our wish and will,
Said, “Judge thyself” to each! Who dares reply?
He knows the end who made the perfect plan—
Hell were too small if man were judged by man.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Sanity hung on a thread.
Sanity hung on a thread,
a yarn that's come unwound.
Instability lives at your core,
while your mind is filled with sound.
The sound of silences that deafen you
and noises that keep you still,
mix to form a melody
that learns to bend your will.
A will misshapen beyond compare,
kept in an ugly twisted guise,
will show you the folly of your actions,
the fool you've been, thinking you were wise.
The Reality
The first trumpet was sound'
shaking all those belonging to the ground
the fire, blood and hail hurled earth's dwellers
one out of three of the ground burned
The second trumpet was blown
A similarity of a huge mountain though unknown
deprived life a third of the sea dwellers
as a third of the latter, into blood it turned
He sounded the third, the angel who firmly stood,
falling the great star, blazing like a torch, The worm-wood
many people died of the streams' bitter waters,
the worm-wood made the bitter, they learned.
A third of the sun was struck,
the moon and 1/3 all the constellations were dark
this is the tribulation of the forth angles trumpet
He cried woe! woe! woe! for three though more to be blast
The fifth angel sounded the trumpet,
and the woe! it beholds is unbelievable,
a star fell and opened abyss shaft
and an enormous smoke emanated
blackening the sun and all the stars
out of the smoke came locust
causing grief to humanity, and for 5 months they'll last
to punish whom the seal of God away they'd cast.
they were comparable with war horses of the old
having coverings like crowns made of gold.
they had faces like that of human
their hair was like the hair of a woman,
teeth like lion's, breastplates of iron not to spare any man
they had tails that sting like scorpion
very deadly than anything on earth.
yet two woes were to come.
revelation tells more.............
poem by Marbet Daniel
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Modern Man
Dark, dark, dark
And there is a dog’s bark
A wild heinous cry
A red mark on the sky
With unfathomable fear
I draw myself near
And saw a corpse decaying
From its mouth, I heard it saying
In a greedy murmuring sound
'Dollar, penny and pound'
poem by Naeem Jakhar
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The Dread Voyage
1 Trim the sails the weird stars under—
2 Past the iron hail and thunder,
3 Past the mystery and the wonder,
4 Sails our fated bark;
5 Past the myriad voices hailing,
6 Past the moaning and the wailing,
7 The far voices failing, failing,
8 Drive we to the dark.
9 Past the headlands grim and sombre,
10 Past the shores of mist and slumber,
11 Leagues on leagues no man may number,
12 Soundings none can mark;
13 While the olden voices calling,
14 One by one behind are falling;
15 Into silence dread, appalling,
16 Drift we to the dark.
17 Far behind, the sad eyes yearning,
18 Hands that wring for our returning,
19 Lamps of love yet vainly burning:
20 Past the headlands stark!
21 Through the wintry snows and sleeting,
22 On our pallid faces beating,
23 Through the phantom twilight fleeting,
24 Drive we to the dark.
25 Without knowledge, without warning,
26 Drive we to no lands of morning;
27 Far ahead no signals horning
28 Hail our nightward bark.
29 Hopeless, helpless, weird, outdriven,
30 Fateless, friendless, dread, unshriven,
31 For some race-doom unforgiven,
32 Drive we to the dark.
33 Not one craven or unseemly;
34 In the flare-light gleaming dimly,
35 Each ghost-face is watching grimly:
36 Past the headlands stark!
37 Hearts wherein no hope may waken,
38 Like the clouds of night wind-shaken,
39 Chartless, anchorless, forsaken,
40 Drift we to the dark.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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Looking Dark
As the tree covered by his own bark,
The truest and invisible site of our character is 'dark'.
It also covers our life; more than light,
It remains with us even in bright; as shadow,
If it is not there than the life becomes a room without any door and window.
Born in dark, sleep in dark and
Death in dark; emotions also comes in dark......
That's true, we get the techniques to be sharp; only in dark.
What is dark?
It is the most hard mark of life,
Of its own type, and never get removed instead we sacrifice our life,
Because it is not worst or bad but it is the shed which always keep our self out from the worst,
Unless we become lost...
In this untidy world.
Dark has many kinds, it is what?
Answer revolves around the human's mind.
If it is dirty, on one could clean it.
Or if it is clean, everyone could seen; this dream.
Because when the dark becomes visible....
Than human its self got the power of double.....
So please try to see your own dark......
poem by Prateek Khard
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Sergeant Sims' Saga 0018
Sunday sixth saw some slay scound
corpse soundless sunk in silty sound
where, settled on sand shore, abound
screaming seagulls whose cries sound
from strand to land. Their sounds rebound,
resound against old ships aground
where restless breakers crash and pound.
Forever will his bones be bound
by biting wires wound right around
his battered limbs, still will surround
his skeleton deep underground.
Not floating on the flood was found,
but down beside the damned, deep drowned.
Forensic information found
that someone gunned him to the ground,
and while he from dire wound would swound
with dagger the deceased had downed.
Hell's halls with welcome wild redound.
Another promptly plucked each pound
and paper, from the purse he owned,
picking pockets all around.
Beneath hair stream his skull still crowned
his frightful features fixèd frowned.
The same did Sergeant Sims astound,
together closely molars ground,
and to the Super see him pound.
The latter peered from paper mound.
Said he: 'Hie, harry out the hound
who drowned downed scoundrel, dumped him down
within the sound without a sound,
he must be mad, insane, unsound! '
(14 January 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The want of logic annoys. Too much logic bores. Life eludes logic, and everything that logic alone constructs remains artificial and forced.
quote by Andre Gide
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stark (5,3,1 structure for Gulsher: -)
All matter that existence here
constructed of quark?
Stark
Everything you need for life
Fits one arc?
Stark
A misty graveyard with only
Song of Lark
Stark
Raving madness that takes hold
Makes you bark
Stark
Cutting bluntness of succinct remark
Stalks like shark
Stark
Barron, the searing hot desert
Must not disembark
Stark
Broken mind, shades
under depression
So very dark
Stark
Winters morn sitting on bench
In empty park
Stark
poem by Stevie Taite
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On the Innate Drive For What is Right
As life bled, martyrdom flared its buds.
Repression, red from irritation,
Rendered chinks and cracks; but thuds of
Armament - in cowardice - accomplice of the
Dictatorial blight thro' countless years -
Wreaked its retribution:
Yet hope began to bloom a coloured carapace
Enshrining their allegiance ‘gainst the
Terror in their tears.
And on! Splits yawned - breaches in the junta:
Flesh fought fanatical minds -
Bullets welcomed into open hands
And blessed with yearnings for morality:
Chiselled man-toys of death and mutilation
Couldn't repel the might of freedom
Surging at the bright horizon.
Crepuscular rays of purpose, body,
Flooded pandemonium with
Overwhelming clarity, direction -
Burdened clouds drifting wayward as the
Light channelled out a vision,
Intensifying focus on tomorrow -
Deepen their stride
As they home in to
What is theirs,
Rightfully theirs!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The reign of justice and freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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