Doom's Day Prophecy
A tongue of dust, a mouth of clay
with patches of goodness
happy with mundane things
the soul still pines in sorrow and agony
and as the fullness of time sinks abroad
the sun shines with harsh realities
opinion talks tough of ill-fortunes
where a spot defiles a preacher
minted furnace burps, and broaden
the mountains flee from their mounds
into vallies of abyssmality
tall trees, shrubs, and little plants too.
poem by Justice Ominipus
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Patches Of
patches of sunlight,
patches of clouds.
patches of Jesus,
patches of doubt.
patches of joy,
patches of pain.
patches of hope,
patches of strain.
patches of tomorrow,
patches of today.
patches of forever,
patches of 'cant stay'!
patches of loving,
patches of cold.
patches of youth,
patches of old.
patches of bravery.
patches of fear.
patches of happiness,
patches of tears.
patches of life,
patches of death.
patches of trying
with your last breath!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In The Pines
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver when the cold wind blows
My love, my love, what have I done
To make you treat me so
You've caused me to weep, you've caused me to mourn
You've caused me to leave my home
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver when the cold wind blows
The longest train I ever saw
Went down that Georgia Line
The engine passed at six o'clock
The caboose went by at nine
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver when the cold wind blows
I asked my captain for the time of day
He said he throwed his watch away
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver when the cold wind blows
Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Pines
These pines are not the ones that i'm used to
They won't carry me home when I cry
Am I too far gone to recover
Or can I turn if I try
Should I trade my soul for another
Should I stay and pretend that I'm happy
Like so many times before
Yeah these pines
Are not mine
They don't smell so sweet
like the ones in my mind
And I search the needles
'Til I run out of time
But I don't see you in These Pines.
Di I stumble or falter my words
When I'm saying everything is all right
I'm not one to release my depression
But these trees bring it out every night
Well i don't talk 'cos I'm trying to listen
To the wind take me home through these leaves
But it's quiet and don't hear nothing
Cos the wind doesn't blow through these trees
song performed by by Kasey Chambers from The Captain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tall Pines (the last seconds of a hung)
Tall pines
huge excuses
terrible endless cries
remorse
and then silence
cessation
continuous cessation
Tall pines
infinite shame
undefined cries
needs
passionate
last flick of passion
last spark of a need
passionate again
to wave goodbuy
with a blooded tear running from his closed eye
to prove his innocence
to prove
his regret.
forgiveness
and an innocent soul
but bloodstained hands
incessant cessation
Tall pines
and strained innocence
unexcused cried
unfounded words
unfounded screams
and laughs
that penetrate his chest
inflated with half-finished pride
and remorse
regret
that make the pines twisting around
like he's intoxicated
like he can lose his shelf again
for a while
"Pray for forgiveness my son
pray to rest your soul in god's arms"
Strained innocence
Stained innocence
and a sarcastic giggle
"father, I am alone"
Tall pines
and the hung cries
tall pines
and they wave to him goodbuy
as they laugh or fearlessly smile
he cries
he dies
under the small tall pines.
poem by Katerina Val
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You My Friend
In detachment certain things can be learned.
A love that will always be doesn't teach us of harsh realities.
It make us as a closed minded entity.
You my friend have learned of pain and agony
These feelings are normal and let us know we are still alive.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Dream Drifter
Into dreams, you drift,
away from the harsh realities,
to places full of tranquillity.
You drift along to
where everyday brings happiness,
sorrow is not allowed there.
In these places of peaceful beauty,
where birds sing, and flowers bloom everyday
under a never setting sun.
Places where the word worry
is always questioned there.
You drift along in your dreams,
til the morning comes to call
with the waking hour
and the dream drifter must get up
to face the world again
with its harsh realities of pain.
poem by David Harris
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Baby Likes Burping
You know my baby likes burping
You know my babys kinda nauseating
[burps]
My little vulgar one is so gross
cause when I hold her in my arms so close she goes
[burps]
And out in public its embarrassing
Shell burp at anyone or anything
Shes so revolting and disgusting
And repulsive to me, yeah
My little ladys so obnoxious
Today she walked onto a greyhound bus goin
[burps]
And then a couple hours later
My babys in a crowded elevator
[burps]
That little filthy pig is so obscene
Im really glad she doesnt like beans
Shes so revolting and disgusting
And repulsive to me, yeah
Oh, I wonder whats her trip
Oh, shed better can it quick
Oh, I think Im gonna be sick
If baby does it anymore
I think Ill just pretend like I dont know her
[burps]
You know my baby likes burping
You know my baby is really sickening
[burps]
Thats enough, thats it
[record scratch]
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ethiopia
Yes, Ethiopia yet shall stretch
Her bleeding hands abroad;
Her cry of agony shall reach
The burning throne of God.
The tyrant's yoke from off her neck,
His fetters from her soul,
The mighty hand of God shall break
And spurn the base control.
Redeemed from dust, and freed from chains,
Her sons shall lift their eyes;
From lofty hills and verdant plains
Shall shouts of triumph rise.
Upon the dark, despairing brow
Shall play a smile of peace;
For God shall bend unto her woe,
And bid her sorrows cease.
'Neath sheltering vines and stately palms
Shall laughing children play;
And aged sires, with joyous psalms,
Shall gladden every day.
Secure by night and blest by day,
Shall pass her happy hours;
Within her peaceful bowers.
Thy bleeding hands abroad;
Thy cry of agony shall reach
And find the throne of God.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Mountain Cemetery
With their harsh leaves old rhododendrons fill
The crevices in grave plots' broken stones.
The bees renew the blossoms they destroy,
While in the burning air the pines rise still,
Commemorating long forgotten biers.
Their roots replace the semblance of these bones.
The weight of cool, of imperceptible dust
That came from nothing and to nothing came
Is light within the earth and on the air.
The change that so renews itself is just.
The enormous, sundry platitude of death
Is for these bones, bees, trees, and leaves the same.
And splayed upon the ground and through the trees
The mountains' shadow fills and cools the air,
Smoothing the shape of headstones to the earth.
The rhododendrons suffer with the bees
Whose struggles loose ripe petals to the earth,
The heaviest burden it shall ever bear.
Our hard earned knowledge fits us for such sleep.
Although the spring must come, it passes too
To form the burden suffered for what comes.
Whatever we would give our souls to keep
Is merely part of what we call the soul;
What we of time would threaten to undo
All time in its slow scrutiny has done.
For on the grass that starts about the feet
The body's shadow turns, to shape in time,
Soon grown preponderant with creeping shade,
The final shadow that is turn of earth;
And what seems won paid for as in defeat.
poem by Edgar Bowers
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In Your Beauty 156
You are sweet your beautiful in your eyes shines your hair sparkles like golden delight of sunlight your eyees twinlke bright like the light of distant ever starlight your heart beats beats beautifully into forever and beyond the reaches of the time cannot graze the grace of in your innermost beauty of thy soul cannot comprehend the goodness in whcih exhuberates the greatness in which you are and what u represent any is a lucky to talk to u a select few are lucky to call you freind night into day as day to night sunlight of sunshine and light into darkness moon risin in full the fullness of the moon the fullness of your love the love in which u have for all and anyone from the beginning to the end and end to beginning start to finish may sweetness in this life awlays find you and everyone else that you know
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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Preacher Boy
Jeanne burns / billie holiday
He was lanky and tall as a beanpole
And he wind fanned my heart to a flame
As he looked to the sky
And theres no wonder why
For preacher boy was his name
With his old yaller dog there beside him
And his eyes throwin sparks in the sun
I grew faint from the heat
From my heart to my feet
When I knew preacher boy was the one
Then he didnt say much
Hes the silent kind
But his arms were strong
Just the same as his mind
And my knees grew weak
As I clung to him
My preacher boy, my preacher boy
But he heard the call
Now hes left me
For his faith was stronger than i
And thought we are apart
Yet hes still in my heart
My preacher boy, my preacher boy
My wonderful preacher boy
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The shining. For Tara.
It shines.
It shines from the new-born baby;
shines in the magic of birth.
It shines in first love;
in lasting love.
It shines in laughter,
in tears of sadness,
in tears of joy.
It shines in wisdom,
shines in goodness,
shines as beauty.
It shines in the held breath
of the peace of dawn about to break;
it shines in the stillness
of the hour of sunset.
It shines as life.
There is no limit to its shining
except the denying of it
and even then,
it shines
Since you know it so well,
does it need a name?
A name perhaps, to praise?
Nameless, known to all,
beyond all praise,
it shines.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Garden of Soul
My soul’s garden must grow those plants
And trees and shrubs that yield good fruits;
Sin grows like weeds that stifle growth
Of virtues and more vices grow.
The grace of Almighty God comes
Down on soul’s garden as sun, rain,
As virtues grow in more numbers,
And sin-weeds turn a scarce member.
poem by John Celes
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Now That Theres You
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson)
Now that theres you
I can get up in the morning
Look down the lonesome road
Know that I have the strength to carry on
Now that theres you
Love abides in my soul
I have a purpose, I have a goal
I can reach out and touch the star
Yesterday it seemed so far
Now that theres you, oh you
No matter the trial
Ill get by coz I know theres an answer
Somewhere in your smile
Now that theres you
I can reach that mountain top
till I get there I wont stop
Ive a new sense of pride
It makes me do things I never tried
Now that theres you oh, you
I can feel I am real
At last I taste the honey
Im alive for the first time
And the sun shines over
Now that theres you
Hey, you
Oh oh oh oh
I see all the colours the world was supposed to be
And now a robin sings and I know theres spring
Now that theres you
Every day I seem to find a new dimension of my mind
Im no longer a piece of clay
My heart has some buried lungs to say
Now that theres you, oh you
I can feel I am real
At last I taste the honey
Im alive for the first time
And the sun shines over
Now that theres you
Thank you baby
I feel I am real
At last I taste the honey
Im alive for the first time
And the sun shines over
Now that theres you
Im real Im real
At last I taste the honey
Im alive for the first time
And the sun shines over
Now that theres you
La la la la la
La la la la la la la
Im alive for the first time
And the sun shines over
Now that theres you
Im real Im real
At last I taste the honey
Im alive for the first time
And the sun shines over
Now that theres you
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three things cause sorrow to flee; water, green trees, and a beautiful face.
We dont need space
the trees and plants
micmic the voices
of long gone tourists
during this low season
as you sleep in a near
empty island resort,
in the dead of night
the entire garden is alive
with chuckling voices
of men, whomen and children
they set upon the mind
intermittently while you
come in and out of your dreamland
a world dying to have fun
who says plants cant speak
do we really need mouth to speak
here the trees and plants in
their separate place are
acting out a real play they
have acquired from the holiday makers
and make it a fun in a really quiet night
who says we need mouth
to speak, eyes to see,
in a dream, the whole world
has come to us right within
the four corners of our bed
who says we need space to live
one day we are going to live
out of nothngness, right out
of this clumsy frame that
tolls bell of pain and deception
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Transformations Of Our Being
at first, no matter how trivial
each dust becomes special
since it comes from your tongue
wet with the sweetest saliva of your love,
we always want it that way
that rainy feel
that wets us all over
running down our spine
into the hidden nooks of
our being
that we do not wish to share
with any creature
in this exclusive spot that we found
gee
you say it once
and i join you
in this harmony
of our
differences
wow is my other word
for these ordinary dusts
that go inside me
i become a part
of the boulevard
where lovers
want to spend the
night
with the winds
that change
the arrangements
made by
fate
now to dust
shall we to dust return
but when that time comes
we too
have assumed the body
of the wind
the soul of the earth
the dusts
invincible
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She Talks To Rainbows
She's a little lost girl in her own little world
She looks so happy but she seems so sad
ah ah oh yea oh oh oh yea
She's a little lost girl in her own little world
I'd like to help her I'd like to try
ah ah oh yea oh oh oh yea
She talks to birds she talks to angels she talks to trees she talks to bees
She don't talk to me
Talks to the rainbows and to the seas she talks to trees
She don't talk to me
Don't talk to me
You know she drives me outta my mind
You know she drives me outta my head
You know she drives me outta my mind
You know she drives me outta my head
She talks to birds she talks to angels she talks to trees she talks to bees
She don't talk to me
Talks to the rainbows and to the seas she talks to trees
She don't talk to me
Don't talk to me
She's a little lost girl in her own little world
She looks so helpless
song performed by by Ramones from Adios Amigos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I go to the mountains (in answer to Bonaventure Hinwood)
When I go to the mountains,
witnessing Your wonderful creative power
in nature
it is clear that You keep Your hand
over all things
as if You are there more present
than at other places,
as if You cherish the whole wide world
like the Garden of Eden
caressing every little thing
against Your chest.
If I have got to believe Your word,
a time will come
when Christians like in times of old
have to flee from persecution
where the mountains will become
their sanctuary,
where a whole army
will not be able to get them out
and it lets me think about how the Waldenses
in days of old had to suffer
while they only wanted to read Your word
in Bibles in their own language
and was trapped in caves and burnt to ashes
by soldiers of an overwhelming religious force.
[Reference: Vlug na die berge (Flee to the mountains) by Bonaventure Hinwood.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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When Satanic Power Ruled A Third Reich
In another age time another pyre place agonized
beyond measure-able distance far away stretched
crimes committed surpass comprehension civilized
forgiveness murdered discarded remains unquestioned
mounds of broken coke carbon fuel cooked oven bones
pre-cooked unto oblivion new dust cremated termite mounds
mounds lie piled still an aging testament to craven third Reich.
An extract from the poem ‘Stone Cross’.85? 87?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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