En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Pompeii

Rest on shores with lost Pompeii
Molten red silk disguises ideology
Control the mother of serpents
Burgundy tapestry covers conceit
All the vacant look on the war
Rattlesnake quills

Under the lava feel broken shackles
Some fly like angel men
Some are crushed in themselves

Public baths serenade slave ships
Hot dusky cells of bi-polar chains
Resident split of matter and soul
Screams as silent as patricide
Incest where glass eyes stare

Covered in lava like living strife
Casts of hot thermo dynamics
Like Camus silent universe
Purple cloaks amidst the emaciated
Vesuvius has no roses
Pompeii burns like an entombed pharaoh

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Lava

Hot lava comes down big monkey goes floatin
On a boiler coming down like rain (oh yeah)
Hot lava cools down [big babble lectric cap(? )]
Going [loco(? )] with the boiling ?
[got lava I mean always take(? )] ready to serve
With the hand.... .... you lost and you found
[got light it goes inside some boulder ....(? )]
He wants nothing but the [tip(? )] on your crown piggy! pi-ggy!
Hot lava, lava
piggy!
[big kick a mule piston banged up and lets boil er(? )]
[like patty and the people in mind(? )]
Big boiler make hot gray matter not ....
Like the [dragon poppin two inside(? )]
piggy! pi-ggy!
Hot lava, lava
piggy! pi-ggy!
Hot lava
Hot lava

song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lava Lamp

In the half light of the evening
I could almost see you glow, I can tell by the way you're moving,
Time may be right to let you know,
you've got a many coloured halo, the body of venus
a babe rainbow and if I come on any closer, I might fall into your silhouette
but the shape of things to come is constantly changing
so let it, so let it, so let it flow
lava lava lava lamp, lava lava lava lamp
indigo, violet and blue, can we meet where the edge is blur cause I am comin' atcha, like a bug eye heading for the burn
the truth is I can't stay away, no I wanna let you light my volcano
and maybe it's just my imagination, but you never know
because the shape of things to come is constantly changing
so let it, so let it, so let it flow
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
so let it, so let it, so let it ...
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on

song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vampires

Mandarin sky like fire in her eyes
Dark visions rise between her thighs
She sleeps in a bed of liquid lava

Decadent Venus in gossamer night
Black silk poetry fills her womb
Succulent moonlight caresses

She reads the Flowers of Evil
Satin sheets in soft candle light
Golden chains, silk scarves

Passion dances in pedicure red
6 inch high heels on my shoulder
Her kisses are like wild wolves

Her mirror fills with purple night
Ivory neck alive with moon beams
She longs to feed on a poets sin

Feel the thorns of sensuous myth
Born to be adored in the garden
The dark side casts her spell

Music from ancient castles
Roses wet with deep red lust
A Goddess thrives on hot blood

Vampires gorged in moonlight

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Molten Love

Lowering your thighs
...To mine
Set to take your ride
Lay me down on my bed
...rolling into the shadows
of the night
Entering into a neverworld
...without a care...we dare
There is no fright
With Passion...Carnal Lust
Tasting you, Like a thirst,
AWAKENING
The fires within you
Ride, Ride
Release The Lava
Of the passion feast,
Ride, Ride
My thickeness deep down to my soul,
Ride, Ride Till I die of desire,
Release the Molten Lava,
Molten
And Gold.

Peter LeBuhn

poem by Peter LeBuhn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent screams

Can you hear it?
The silent screams.
The screams that come from my hart.
My life was invaded.
And the pain lingers on.
It hurts God it really hurts.

The silent screams in my head.
I hear them but can you?
I hear them cos I'm screaming them.
But they are silenced by my fear.

Silent screams silent screams.
This is all I had when you did what you did.
Silent screams.
Emobolised by fear.
And overpowered by you.
I couldnt do a thing.
Except have silent screams.

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burgundy Taffeta

As death embraced my whole being
Shrouded in burgundy taffeta
Her arms forceful
Embraced me
So as we spooned
I could not turn to see her lace shrouded
Face

She whispered
In Victorian tongue
Just loud enough to menace
Yet no matter how intensely I listened
Not one word
Made
Sense

I tried to respond
Or scream
Or raise
But my living soul stood still and silent
We swooned
Noir skies
Still
Laid out
And wrestled silent screams
And finally she softened her hold
And allowed me to leave
Our dream.......

poem by Karen Sinclair
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The Stars of Home

Sultry inspiration the dark muse
Course set, red ominous sun
The inward sea of unresolved pain
Covered with the estranged masks
Bright radiant colors
Covered with shallow clay
Enveloped in entropy
Illustrations of the shadow fire
Pyre of poets lay their quills down
Still waters in the silent valley

The world has entered into my eyes
Sunset has its portent
Swords in the purple glare
My hour has no Eden
Contrasts between the armies
My heart is a battleground
The heavens shine with the future
A ladder amidst the storm
Sands of the seashore
Now the stars shine like home

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Silence.....

silent thoughts
silent dreams
silent horrors
silent screams

silent pains
silent refrains
The cold black
silence attracts
silent wisdom
silent thoughts

A want for more is what silence sings
but is love on the menu, all but contiversy
butnow have u realized wat silence can bring?
hopless insanity if u can read....
sound is wats need to go through life
but all awhile silence is that unwinnable fight

push with all ur power
hope with all ur dreams
but you get no second chance
you only deserve screams

but those screams are silent, hopeless....
insanity........

poem by Tommie Cobb
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Suffer In Silence

silent are the dreams
silent are the screams
wither, i will crumple and faint
silent are the tears that flow down my cheek
silent is the storm that is brewing
silent is the bleeding wound
quiet is my sorrow
grief in chains
mute and mourning
my sorrow in despair
in violence tranquil
wailful in silence suffer i will
coz that my love is your wish

poem by Reshma Ramesh
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Art and Asylum

Desultory roses with ancient thorns
Ramadan guns
Violet time machines
Pompeii baths
Words with Shakespeare
Define your blissful captivity
These Egyptian queens of deceit

She idealizes a fragment
Sounds of rain
Sounds of forests
Rivers

Was Tennessee Williams mad?
Narcissism jolts my star
Poetry a garden
Volatile between the faces
Art is asylum

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(Rejection Poem) Angel Of Death

The blood is rushing through my veins.
Breaking free of the shackles and chains.
Being pulled away.
I want to stay but I must go.
Oh hell, no.
It wont happen.
I killed all the passion.
Its over.
Done, sorry but this game can never be won.

The angel of death has come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I got to just walk away.
Its no longer my mistake.
I must take control.
Pulling the reins trying to drive me insane.
Patience, is no longer in my best interest.
Just leave me alone.
Let me be calm.
Probably should get stoned.
A unending high in this life.
A dream being destroyed.
But I must let go.

For the angel of death has come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I must take control.
A choice has been made.
As the day fades.
Win or lose it no longer matter anyways.
I'm not playing.
I'm not staying.

So let the angel of death come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I must take control.
I was the fool.
I was the fool.
A life so cruel.
I'll watch from afar.
Like a distant star.
You can no longer reach me.
You can no longer b*tch to me.
The line has been written in the sand.
Everyone one on that side is damned.

So let the angel of death come.
Reaping the lost souls
oh reaping the lost souls.
I must take control.
By saying no,
i will not follow a heart so hollow.
I'm not blinded by the sickness.
No oh no.

So let the angel of death come.
Just let her come.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Serpents Head

Roam the dry place waiting for breaches
Rapture of pride titillated by thorns
We are the children of the broken dream
Who hung the stars before our vacant eyes?
Run into the children of Cain
They wait for the dark man

Brooks speak of the rising sun
I have left the shadow of time
Olive tree with tendrils to the garden
Fruit of the true tree
Springs of living joy

Militant man of earth
Helmets with brazen Rome
Man of the state
Man of the steeple
Man of ideology
Military man
Your solutions die at Armageddon

Can’t you watch with me one hour?
Soul of peace in a body of sin
Nature against soul
Fallen nature sees the stars
Split, fragmented
Lord they know not what they do!
Thank you for forgiveness
I shall forgive all and join you
The serpent’s head has been crushed

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Molten or metallic marvels

I really truly don't know why
some things under the sun and sky
attract and catch my fancy

Quite queerly they happen to be
hot melting smelting solids
that melt into exquisite liquids.

Take for instance heated liquid gold
molten glass or molten brass
and to watch magma 'neath the earth's fold
Ooh I love just about any melting mass.

With similar bizarre ecstasy and fascination
do I always watch onscreen molten lava
Gliding in serpentine turns, oblivious of my admiration
Ah, I just love all that golden molten mass

Sometimes I even have such an eccentric craving
to watch just any solid beauty melting smelting
that I satisfy this craving by simply imagining
the honey to be some liquid fire gold
in a crystal clear jar and liken it to
a metallic gold syrup in the furnace burning
As if it were stagnant mini-lava
right before me glowing!

As for other mesmeric things
that I find real eye-catching
are those which everybody else finds ravishing.
And they are in all shine
dazzling diamond dust
Magical celestial stardust
Glittery terrestrial gold dust
in mankind's metallic materialistic lust.!
But I, I am allergic to dust. ;)

poem by S.zaynub Kamoonpuri
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Darkness

Been spending so much time underground
I guess my eyes adjusted
To the lack of light
I got
Covered in darkness
Covered in darkness
Hibernating always waiting for something new
Happiness always endin'
In the blink of an eye
There was no one attending
No one attending
It doesn't really matter where it all began
All I know
I got covered in darkness
Covered in darkness
Ever wonder why I never really truly connect
Although my eyes are open
I can hold your gaze
But I am never connected
Never connected
I am famous for my generosity
They say I am the kindest
But it is easier to
Give than receive love
Give than receive love
It doesn't really matter where it all began
All I know
I was covered in darkness
Covered in darkness
Turning pages over
Run away to nowhere
And it's hard to take control
When your enemy's old and afraid of you
You'll discover that the monster you were running from
Is the monster in you
Better to hold on to love
Better to hold on to love
Change will come
It doesn't really matter where it all began
All I know
I was covered in darkness
Covered in darkness
It doesn't really matter where it all began
Cuz all I know
I was lost
I was lost
No, no
It doesn't really matter where it all began no no
All I know
I was lost
I feel lost
Lost
No...

song performed by by Darren Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We've lost our city. I fear it's potentially like Pompeii.

quote by Marc Morial
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Stone I Turn

If not a slave of this world, I am a slave of God
Wearied in chains, my soul oppressed
I walk with leaden feet
To a feat I trod

My solace warms, in a soul dressed
by the virgin's blood and
Magdalene's tears.
With their succor
I quench my fears
Its love impressed,
My soul never leers

Still the chains don't chain my will,
a will sick with desire.
Outwitting my simple soul
My will tempts the mire
To swamp not just the earth,
but slime God's soul as well
So in misery my soul can dwell
And in hell burn in fire.

Mystified in God's quay….
In my plumbeous chains, saturnine my soul turns
Wearied by the trod.
Treading lead, the color gray
Like an angel I fly away.
Where souls land and
pray to God
Hoping their soul never burns

To stone, my soul turns

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Angel Eyes

Those eyes of an angel
Made strangers feel easy
In the dark irises
Goodness lived completly

Those eyes of an angel
Made heaven's wonders collide
Radiated the sun
Oh, those angel eyes!

Those eyes of an angel
Complimented her dark hair
The coils and strands
Drew in many a stare

Those eyes of an angel
Were so often understood
And I stared at them so long
Before they closed for good

Those eyes of an angel
Pierced my soul to its core
And though I'd stare for hours
I'd want to see them more

And still I dream of their dark streams
That never relvealed their end
I mourn and pray that one day
My eyes find hers again

Though mine aren't as beautiful
I inherited them, I see
Oh, but I miss those angel eyes
That use to stare at me

poem by Whitney Albright
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The Mighty Nature

over the centuries man has tried
to conquer nature and slave its might

he built concrete high rising homes
ships that fight sea's heavy storms

planes to fly man in air
cars, trains... travel's no fear

he tried to tame the nature wild
protect himself when she got riled

he built structures tall nad wide
wo enclose seas and her tide

he got better, he got strong
he felt he can do no wrong

with all knowledge, all strength
new gadgets, tools and wealth

but when the nature shows her might
man can hardly put up a fught

the roaring, foaming, angry sea
or mighty winds that blow away trees

earthquakes that shake the ground
or molten lava, burns all around

for all its worth, all man's trouble
on nature's strike turns to rubble

after all the heights man had reached
nature's surrender cannot be achieved

even after centuries of fight
man has to salute the nature's might

poem by Syeda Beenish Jalil
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The Roman Sentinel

Death or dishonor, which is best to taste?
A Roman sentinel in Pompeii,
When God’s hot anger laid that city waste,
Answered the question, and resolved to die.
His duty was, upon his post to bide
Till the relief came, let what might betide.

He stood forgotten by the fleeing guard,
Choosing that part which is the bitterest still,
His face with its fixed purpose cold and hard,
Cut in the resolute granite of his will.
“Better,” he said “to die, than live in shame;
Death wreathes fresh flowers round a brave man’s name.”

Life is the wave’s deep whisper on the shore,
Of a great sea beyond. The sentry saw
That day the light in broad sails hoisted o’er
The drifting boat of dawn; nor dreamed the flaw,
The puff called death, would blow him with them by
Out to the boundless sea beyond the sky.

The sentry watched the mountain’s fire-gashed cheeks,
And saw come up the sand’s entombing shower.
The storm darts out its red tongue when it speaks,
And fierce Vesuvius, in that wild hour,
Put forth its tongue of flame, and spoke the word
Of hatred to the city from the Lord.

The gloom of seventeen centuries skulked away,
And standing in a marble niche was found
A skeleton in armor all decay;
The soulless skull was by a helmet crowned,
Cleaving thereon with mingled rust and sand,
And a long spear was in the crumbling hand.

In Pompeii are beasts of stone with wings,
Paved streets with marble temples on each side,
Baths, houses, paintings, monuments of kings;
But the arched gate whereat the sentry died,
The rusted spear, and helmet with no crest,
Are better far to see than all the rest.

O heart, whatever lot to thee God gives,
Be strong, and swerve not from a blameless way;
Dishonor hurts the soul that ever lives,
Death hurts the body that is kin with clay.
Though Duty’s face is stern, her path is best:
They sweetly sleep who die upon her breast.

poem by Henry Abbey
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Something Mystical Tonight...

a very sick
soul,
emaciated
transparency
behind
a glass door

it manifests
itself
inside a sore throat
a dry cough
whooping
throughout the
night

depression time
anxiety grows
like five headed
dragons

this is no myth
this is real

you want to
cure the body
feverish and
thirsty
on pale hands
a shrinking
veins
webs of spiders
cover the
eyes

confess upon
yourself
be both
priest and penitent

be silent
sit down
contemplate upon
the goodness of
this universe

let your spirit
flow
and be washed
anew

it is not late
you can still be.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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