Halloweed Be My Name
Gather round right now
And hear me whisper
The words of the prison
The words of laughter
The lords and the ladies
Were fixing their hair-dos
Cursing their lovers
Cursing the Bible
Hallow-ed by my name
Yelling at fathers
Screaming at mothers
Hallow-ed by my name
Come all you sinners
Come now in your glory
And my ears will listen
To your dirty stories
You're fighting to go up
You're sure on your way down
Cursing their lovers
Cursing the Bible
Hallow-ed by my name
Yelling at fathers
Screaming at mothers
Hallow-ed by my name
Sluts and the hookers
Have taken your money
The queens are out dancing
But now it's not funny
'Cause there goes one walkin'
Away with your sonny
Cursing their lovers
Cursing the Bible
Hallow-ed by my name
Yelling at fathers
Screaming at mothers
Hallow-ed by my name
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Hallowed Be My Name
Gather round right now and hear me whisper
The words of the prison, the words of laughter
The lords and the ladies were fixing their hairdos
Cursing their lovers, cursing the bible
Hallowed by my name
Yelling at fathers, screaming at mothers
Hallowed by my name
Come all you sinners, come now in your glory
And my ears will listen to your dirty stories
You're fighting to go up cause you're on your way down
Cursing their lovers, cursing the bible
Hallowed by my name
Yelling at fathers, screaming at mothers
Hallowed by my name
Ahhahaha...
Sluts and the hookers have taken your money
The queens are out dancing, but now they're not funny
Cause there goes one walkin' away with your sonny
Cursing their lovers, cursing the bible
Hallowed by my name
Yelling at fathers, screaming at mothers
Hallowed by my name
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Haunted Hollow
The hollow is a group of trees,
whose branches intertwine to form an arch.
A column of noble trees,
standing tall and erect.
However the hallow is haunted,
by ghostly lovers who died there,
on one stormy night,
walking arm in arm
underneath a cloudy moonlight.
Now when the north wind blows,
and clouds drift across the moon.
You can see the ghostly lovers
in the shadows of the hallow,
where they walk for eternity,
linked arm in arm.
Their love has lived beyond the grave,
for everyone to see.
Two ghostly lovers
simply called you and me.
poem by David Harris
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Lonely Angel On Hallow Ground
Little lady laced in the heavenly gown
Caught outside the witching hour
I see your face as a benevolent frown
Lonely angel on hallow ground
Neither friend nor fiend in my apprehension
Who graces this doorway of mine?
Witness I a portal to your dimension
Lonely angel on hallow ground?
All I remember just boyish confusion
Which opens my mind forever
The spirit of your claim transcends delusion
Lonely angel on hallow ground
In your presence an unworthy selection
Such canyon girth before unknown
I err you always past mortal detection
Lonely angel on hallow ground
I call your name when not in my ignorance
A frigid space then now after
I hinder your message to obtain entrance
Lonely angel on hallow ground
poem by Jay Bradley
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Hallow Lonely
Hallow
Miss lonely
hallow! !
are you
lonely?
miss lonely hallow!
are you lonely
cause,
i am here
for love and whatever reason
my love wish to ask to be taking care of....and VIVE LA RENE! !
are you lonely
really so i can measure up
all the up out and down
injuries....
hellow
my belle
tu as quelque
chose dans
ta tete.....et excuse-moi!
pour mon francais
ma belle
mon amour
mon sourire
gaie.....tu sera
plus bella
si tu me feras sourir?
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Oppositional Defiant Disorder
Now to those who think they are smart
Better do some medical reading
And take seriously these words at heart
Because you don't know your brains are short circuiting.
Uncontrolled stress gets to the speech nerves
Agitation and daily mounting stress
Can be manifested by profane cursing words
That when untreated may make you brainless.
It's a sign of Oppositional Defiant Disorder
And needs some resolve in Psychiatry
And may worsen in years for the speakers
The agitation may not be limited to profanity.
The inward turmoil may express in action
And the cursing may not be just verbal attack
The illness of cursing is a mental condition
That needs to be cured and its growth held back.
Copyright Cynthia Buhain Baello
February 27,2010
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Daughters
I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
But she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hand
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Oh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left
Cleaning up the mess he made
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Boys, you can break
You'll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from
A woman's good, good heart
On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
song performed by by John Mayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Real Her...I Love
I love to see you after a storm
With your hair in a mess
Mumbling under your breath
Wild kicking off of wellingtons
Screaming and cursing
Quick glances in hall mirror
More muttered mumbling
Pulling of hair oh and lip pursing
You see it's the opposite men love
It's seeing the real you the lovely you
As if God say's 'Look this is what she really looks like'
We don't see it all the time but when we do.
But it's later when she's staid
Clothes pressed not a curl out of place
Welcoming guests round for a drink
Her eyes screaming 'Don't even think of it! '
poem by Craig Anderson
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The Opposing Sex
The Widows of Ashur
Are loud in their wailing:
'No longer the 'masher'
Sees Widows of Ashur!'
So each is a lasher
Of Man's smallest failing.
The Widows of Ashur
Are loud in their wailing.
The Cave of Adullam,
That home of reviling
No wooing can gull 'em
In Cave of Adullam.
No angel can lull 'em
To cease their defiling
The Cave of Adullam,
That home of reviling.
At men they are cursing
The Widows of Ashur;
Themselves, too, for nursing
The men they are cursing.
The praise they're rehearsing
Of every slasher
At men. _They_ are cursing
The Widows of Ashur.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Tank
boom...boom
cut fire cut fire
boom...boom
hallow in the night
hallow in the day
fear
boom...boom
silence
poem by Andrew Horsey
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Mothers Always Want Theirs Sons To Be Happy
mothers always want their sons to be happy
and so even if they marry someone
whom their fathers dislike
it is always them who settle for a compromise
and tell fathers to be flexible sometimes
not to hurt the hearts of sons
but sometimes when sons want something else
that only mothers understand
something that fathers cannot really compromise
mothers still compromise
and walk a mile farther
just to make their sons happy
and their sons leave them
to places that only mothers
by their loving hearts
know.
only mothers, yes only mothers,
and no one else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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God Bless Mckay Hatch
some people insist
on cursing in speech
their words just consist
of language that breach
animosity and anger
bullying and such
they are not any better
And need curses as crutch
uplifting language
is never out of place
it will suit any age
and bless any race
thank God for a young man
who cared so much
let his club fill the land
God bless Mckay Hatch!
Note: Mckay Hatch is a 15 year old who started the 'No Cussing Club' to promote uplifting language and replace cursing with better words.
Copyright Cynthia Buhain Baello
February 25,2010
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Lily-white Child
lily white child
hallow to thy fair
the twinklin bliss of thy eye
and beatific expression of thy face
to thy sublime innocent
in d spectrum of thy beauty
Ooh lily-white child
thy aesthetic opulency
like nebula of stars
in the terrain of rainbow
lily white child
smile like of heaven wide
sapphire teeth of angel
hallow to thy halo pure
lily white child
pure like distilled water.
poem by Samuel Francis Leumas
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Handsworth Wood
Have ever you seen
On Halloween,
The cloud that covers the trees so green?
The shroud that covers the last of lovers
The shifting mist of the in-between?
I’ve stood, I’ve stood,
By Handsworth Wood,
I’ve stood as long as I thought I could;
All Hallow’s Eve is the night I grieve
My Genevieve of the purple hood.
She slipped between
The trees so green,
She slipped from me one Halloween;
The cloud had glimmered, the evening shimmered
But she was never to more be seen.
And since that cloud
Became a shroud,
I’ve not forgotten the words I vowed;
My patience burns for the cloud’s return
To help discern what I might have been.
The day she left
I held my breath,
Her sleight of hand was so very deft;
But Genevieve, I still believe
You’ll wander out on some Hallow’s Eve.
I wait in vain,
There’s only rain,
The rain and part of the cloud remain;
But Genevieve I’ve not perceived
Since she went tripping in World’s End Lane.
World End’s Land
In Autumn rain,
There’s nothing left of my lost refrain;
For Handsworth Wood is a neighborhood
Where trees are held in a great disdain.
2 July 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Our language
Thou, who sailest Norse mountain-air,
And Denmark's songs by the cradle singest,
Who badest in Hald the war-flames flare,
And, heard in our children's joy, gently ringest,-
Thou treasure of treasures,
Our mother-tongue,
In pains as in pleasures
Our home and our tower,
With God our power,-
We hallow thee!
Whispering secrets that Holberg stored,
Thou borest him home to a brighter morning,
Didst serve him with armor and whet his sword
For satire's assaults and for laughter's warning.
Thou spirit all knowing,
Our mother-tongue,
The ages foregoing,
The future now growing,
The present glowing,-
We hallow thee!
Kierkegaard thou to the deeps didst bring,
Where life's full currents in God he sounded.
For Wergeland wert thou the eagle's wing,
That lifted him sunward to heights unbounded.
Thou treasure of treasures,
Our mother-tongue,
In pain as in pleasures
Our home and our tower,
With God our power,-
We hallow thee!
Radiant warmth of a May-day
Thou to the spring of our freedom gavest.
In thy clearness our Norse flags aye
With song and honor afar thou wavest.
Thou spirit all knowing,
Our mother-tongue,
The ages foregoing,
The future now growing,
The present glowing,-
We hallow thee!
O'er the ocean unrollest thou
Thy carpet of flowers, a bridge that nigher
Can bring dear friends to meet even now,-
While faith grows greater and heaven higher.
Thou treasure of treasures,
Our mother-tongue,
In pain as in pleasures
Our home and our tower,
With God our power,-
We hallow thee!
Best of friends that I found wert thou;
Thou waitedst for me in the eyes of mother.
And leave me last of them all wilt thou,
Who knewest me better than any other.
Thou spirit all knowing,
Our mother-tongue,
The ages foregoing,
The future now growing,
The present glowing,-
We hallow thee!
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Soul's Rebellion
tired, so tired...
i throw myself into sleep,
falling from the edge of the building,
i cannot see the street below.
a suicide against the hollow body
of everyday repetition,
and the cold stink,
of hands unwashed!
falling, cursing death,
and all it's religious demands.
i ooze from the skin of 'myself',
the dog breaks from its pen.
desire, beating and real,
i drink the juices of lovers...
forbidden to show their faces.
i am penis and rhythm,
the taste of the oak split
by lightning or axe,
who knows? i dont care!
i am blood on the lips,
forever rich in its color.
i am freedom screaming
from the stoop of poverty.
i make love in the alleys,
tossing cans and breaking bottles.
i rip buttons from the blouse,
whisper oceans and darkness.
i am brandy and semen,
words written on the stone,
glowing in the forever night
of your soul's rebellion!
i am free!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Online II
Unmarried fathers,
Unmarried mothers,
And, children are born left and right! !
But, who is now online?
Babies,
With unmarried fathers and unmarried mothers;
Babies,
With married fathers and married mothers;
But, this issue is now investigated with care,
Because, other accessibilities are now found at various locations!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Dark Dreams
I'm in the dark
And I'm lost
In my mind, screaming
Through the empty
Space, filled with no light
All I hear is my echo
I listen and hear the echo
Of silent breaking through the dark
Nothingness that consumes any light
That I don't see, in this lost
Place of empty
Dreaming, in which I scream
Soon as it stops, the screaming
High painful cry, and the echo
Fades, leaving me again in the empty
Hallow thoughts of my dark
Sleep, and wander through my mind lost
Of what I had, it was my light
What I had was like a warm light
That held me from the bitter screaming
Of the cold, it found me when I was lost
It covered me like a blanket, and echoed
Through my soul, with it I was never in the dark
And never left empty
Now, in my sleep, I am empty
The warm blanket of hte light
No longer holds me, but exposes me to the dark
And painful piercing screams
Of my own voice echoing
In my nightmares of what I've lost
I am lost
In the emptiness
Of my own pain, that echoes
Through me, and all I want again is the light
For it I scream
In my dreams, but all I get in the dark
I dream of the dark and I'm lost
My screaming is only heard by the empty
Space in my mind, where light shined, but there is only echo.
poem by Nicole Hiebing
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Family of War
Every morning I awake I fall to my knees and pray.
God, please make the war in Iraq come to end.
There are too many fathers and sons come home
in pine boxes. There are too many mothers and daughters
doing the same. Leaving behind fathers and sons mothers
and daughter with a last memory of them waving goodbye.
There is too much blood and tears of fathers and sons mothers
and daughters being shed all in the name of peace.
God please let our leaders see how many families are dying
and that war can never bring peace. Only love can.
This prayer is my gun and God you’re the bullet I’m shooting
to end this Family of War.
Dear Hate
Dear hate, I’m sick of you
You taught me bad manners
I learned gossip and envy
People became criminals and abusers
Dear hate, I’m sick of you
You’re too smart, you have your triggers
Yelling, shouting, and screaming
This is what made us sinners
Dear hate, I’m sick of you
You entrapped me, myself, and many others
It’s neither nice nor funny
Thats it! I’m leaving you to your lovers!
poem by Aljazi .q8
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Mistrust
The mistrust spread over the world
Where does it first unfurl
From what cocoon does it uncurl
Do fathers mistrust mothers
Do mothers mistrust fathers
Do fathers mistrust sons
Do mothers mistrust daughters
Do we trust our own selves
If trust is not found at home
If mistrust is the legacy of home
Then what hope have we
That trust will be
Born into this place
Love of self and self alone
Brings to us this bone of mistrust
And enfleshes to its birth.
7/5/2009
poem by Claude H Oliver II
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