There Is A Tempest
There is a tempest in the the temple tonight
All of my values, morals, are shaking from fright
There is reason for all of my fear
When red in color, it turns, my water clear
There is blood from innocence and souls,
Caking my fingers, dried by the cold
In the darkest of winter my seed willingly spills
Sickening sweet, the cost, such a cheap thrill
It crystallizes screaming without making a sound
Upon white flakes of frozen ground
You shuddered when bloody caked fingers
Stopped to caress, silken breast, they linger
I briefly touch, with the back of my hand
Your perfect cheek, flowering this land
I turn to see a north by northwest star
It is my home, my place, and it is so far
Then into blackness where none living goes
Love walks with me until it's froze
poem by Midnights Voice
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Winter Remembered
Two evils, monstrous either one apart,
Possessed me, and were long and loath at going:
A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart,
And in the wood the furious winter blowing.
Think not, when fire was bright upon my bricks,
And past the tight boards hardly a wind could enter,
I glowed like them, the simple burning sticks,
Far from my cause, my proper heat and center.
Better to walk forth in the frozen air
And wash my wound in the snows; that would be healing;
Because my heart would throb less painful there,
Being caked with cold, and past the smart of feeling.
And where I walked, the murderous winter blast
Would have this body bowed, these eyeballs streaming,
And though I think this heart's blood froze not fast
It ran too small to spare one drop for dreaming.
Dear love, these fingers that had known your touch,
And tied our separate forces first together,
Were ten poor idiot fingers not worth much,
Ten frozen parsnips hanging in the weather.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Cold winter night
It was a cold winter night.
All was deadly still.
My guts so tight
I must kill!
The cry of a wolf enters my head
Like a train whistle that echoes far away.
Can it be…something lives on this winter night?
Follow the sound and pray
It does not go away.
My hunger juices flowing; I go.
I and the wolf both now know
Neither is alone in the land of snow.
Oh, how I wish I had his sight
On this cold winter night
The north wind moved in the night before.
The ground all snow and bitter cold…so bitter cold.
The sky filled with stars.
The snow grows old.
My guts so tight
What a cold, cold winter night!
The wolf stays hidden from my sight
With it’s furry coat of gray and white.
He glides across the snow without sound
Like a ballerina tiptoeing over the ground.
My guts so tight
On this bitter cold winter night
I with my blood running slow
My hands burning cold; my face red glow
Driven by the pain in my gut
On this cold-cold bitter winter night
I must kill
To make the night still
So the hunger pains
Will be gone again
I hear nothing on this cold winter night
My hair stands up on the back of my neck
I fear the wolf knows
I turn
Crutch to spring
His fangs showing white; my knife in my hand
We circle like two roosters in a pen.
For one this will be the end.
The pain in my gut is still tight
I will kill but not for the trill
On such a killing bitter cold winter night
With the grace of a cat he springs to flight
My throat his aim on this cold winter night
My knife hits his heart…he hunches in pain;
His fangs rip my throat cutting the jugular vein.
The snows now stain on this cold winter night.
Blood and flesh flung upon the snow
Cries of pain, moans of death…soon will go
From this bitter cold ground
All is still on winter’s playground.
The wolf dances no more
My lips move but there is no sound.
My gut is still tight
I feel alright
No more time to fight
On this bitter cold winter night
Wind and snow now fill the air.
The wolf has an empty den.
The snow will be tracked no more.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Genocide complete
In a galaxy so far
poem by Ronald Brissette
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North Star
North star
We stare
How far
How clear
Now touch
Touch here
Now warm
Now near
Now near
Within
With you
With love
With love
How sweet
How filled
Now time
Now time
Now touch
How sweet
How near
How filled
Now time
Times still
Im still
Tonight
North star
We stare
How far
How clear
How far
How clear
How far
How clear
Now touch
Touch here
Now warm
Now near
Within you
With you
With love
With love
With love
I stand in the hallway
She stands in the hall
I stand at the doorway
She stands at the door
I lean in the window
She leans on the wind
I wait for beginnings
She waits for the end
North star
North star
How far
How clear
Now touch
Touch here
Now warm
Now near
Now near
How far
How clear
Now touch
Touch here
Now warm
Now near
Now near
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Virginity Be Damned
Tonight i want my innocence trampled on
every time I look you in the eyes thoughts of us together rush through me like water from a fire hydrant
run your fingers down my breast as you undo the buttons of my dress
kiss my skin hot and pale like the white beaches of a different land
Tonight I want my innocence trampled on
don't be gentle, i'm a woman now no need to treat me as if i may shatter
press yourself against me and feel the palpitation of my rising pulse
leave the sent of sinners upon me, my own Chanel no 5
Take me, take all of me, I want to be yours
bring me closer, make every pore rid itself of my virtue
Tonight I want you to trample on my innocence.
poem by Courtney Pare' Cox
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All Souls
I
A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
II
Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.
III
And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
IV
And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.
V
Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'
VI
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
VII
And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
poem by Edith Wharton
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Kony, Bloody Fingers!
Drums beat, smoke rises,
Encroaching is your hardened souls
of blood, souls of darkness.
Young, old and sick, they try to run, to freedom
and safety, for your men will, turn them
to bloody mass of flesh and skeletons.
The people, your people, your subjects?
To be subjects, in graves, hmnn, they still follow you!
In whose spirit do you fight?
Whose liberation do you want?
Your fingers are wet, your bloody fingers,
Wipe them, your soul they continue to maul.
Hear children cry, hear women wail,
Your web of bloody fingers,
Ebbing life out, and flowing in diseases of hatred.
Let Uganda be! Papa your fingers are choking you.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Fingers Of Love
Can you imagine this
An itch to sensitive to scratch
The light that falls through the cracks
An insect to delicate to catch
I hear the endless murmur
Every blade of grass that shivers in the breeze
And the sound that comes to carry me
Across the land and over the sea
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I can't look back
Fingers of love move down
Colour is its own reward
Colour is its own reward
The chiming of a perfect chord
Let's go jumping overboard
Into waves of joy and clarity
Your hands come out to rescue me
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere
There is time yet
Fall by the way
From the cradle to the grave
From a palace to the gutter
From beneath the dying waves
To the sun like fingers of love
Through waves of joy and clarity
A fallen angel walked on the sea
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere
There is time yet
For you to find me
And all I want
Fingers of love move down
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frenzied Fingers Run Amuck
When I get you into my arms
I can't control the things that I do.
Fingers grab the hair on your head.
Fingers caress the small of your back.
Fingers travel down your spine
and back up again.
Fingers reach to all corners of your being,
quietly unnoticed at first,
but more frenzied with passing time.
Wild fingers travel your soul
with frenzied action that is hard to stop.
Uncontrollable fingers run wild
until you beg them to stop.
But even then, there's no counting on it.
These fingers like to run wild.
Whenever I place my fingers on you,
frenzied fingers run amuck.
The Quest for Ecstasy
Fingers touch and entwine
until they separate and wander.
Tongues touch and taste
whilst fingers delve then linger.
A desire for much more
whilst touching excites.
The closeness of the caress
causes passions to further ignite.
Tongues combine with fingers
in the quest for ecstasy.
The taste of what was promised
brings forth pure rhapsody.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Bloody red
Bloody red, she screamed her lungs out
Crawling and shouting for help, in pain
The morning turns dark and grey for her
Bloody red, clothes are burnt and
House is broken home, no where to go
Take a look around and all you see is hate
Bloody red, the lies turn white and
Skins ripped off, this is a reason
For broken wings of an angel
Bloody red, I scream for happiness to come
No one can hear me, please lord
Just listen to my prayer
Red! I'm dying here tonight in your arms
Your my assasin for life and this is my sweet dream
I'm all yours for life, dear pain..
poem by Sarvesh Mamgain
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Manic Depression
Manic depression is touching my soul
I know what I want but I just dont know
How to, go about gettin it
Feeling sweet feeling,
Drops from my fingers, fingers
Manic depression is catchin my soul
Woman so weary, the sweet cause in vain
You make love, you break love
Its all the same
When its, when its over, mama
Music, sweet music
I wish I could caress, caress, caress
Manic depression is a frustrating mess
Well, I think Ill go turn myself off,
And go on down
All the way down
Really aint no use in me hanging around
In your kinda scene
Music, sweet music
I wish I could caress, caress, caress
Manic depression is a frustrating mess
song performed by by Jimi Hendrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Town
Its midnight down in sector two
Little girl walkin dressed in innocence and cool
Only fourteen and dressed up for the score
Hold that breath now boy, he(? )
She dances, baby, to the beat
Of breaking glass and running feet
Down in white town
Down in white town
Down in white town
Oh, she comes home from work and grabs something to eat
Turn the corner and walks down her street
In a row of houses, chic, shiny and dirty and grey
Disappears like the scenery in another mans play
And as she dances, oh, to the beat
Oh the trooper stickin dresses for the number on the sheet
Down in white town
Down in white town
Down in white town
Down in white town
Yeah, mr. outside, youre walkin so free
If you turn your eyes so you dont see
You act like youre the hand turns the key
And you become the hand that turns the key
And no matter how I try I cannot understand
The way that they will turn a man
Into a stranger in his own land
Down in white town
(repeat to fade)
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirit Of Fire In The Water
Light, celebrated in the flame
The heat burning through the shine
Warm kiss of the waving touch
Comfy, lean on the surfaces
Embodied as the heat, spirit of fire
Enliven small body with desires
Changed when it feed with anger
Growing bigger, burning hearts of other
Cursed touches left to be ashes, gray color
Minutes in reigning power
Now the fire goes down
Gone, when the sky cries
Dropping the purest water
Silent the fire, suppressed the anger
Somehow when extinction of warm
Welcoming the rise of arrogant
Water empowered with freezing touch
Frozen as snow, hot turn cold
When power flaming ego in the fire,
As also arrogant freezing the water
Heat left, diffused with miracles
Till there's nothing for each other
When tolerate not in heart of lovers
Spirit of fire, burning in the sun
Kissed the land sealed with heat warm
Melt the icy heart, sent by celebrated sunlight
The snow white in the winter alive again
Liquid as freedom, ice captured the warm
Back to flow through the river it goes
A love shared between fire and water
Two bodies of untouchable
Unites into one shared kiss
Preserve the heat into modesty
Warming when it's too cold
Cooling when it's too hot
Tolerate of two bodies
water and fire in a bond of heat
Spirit of fire swim in the heart of water
Promised harmony, keep warm in the winter
Bringing cold refreshing in this summer
Ego of each in such altered flow spirit tendency
Create a world of respect and tolerate
When two show powers holding together
Seal cold to the fire, and flame fire to the ice
Burning love in frozen hearts
Living in warm ice forever after
As spirit of fire In the water
poem by Unwritten Soul
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Let There Be Rock
In the beginning
Back in nineteen fifty-five
Man didnt know about a rock n roll show
And all that jive
The white man had the smoltz
The black man had the blues
No one knew what they was gonna do
But tchaikovsky had the news
He said -
Let there be light, and there was light
Let there be sound, and there was sound
Let there be drums, and there was drums
Let there be guitar, and there was guitar
Let there be rock
And it came to pass
That rock n roll was born
All across the land every rockin band
Was blowing up a storm
The guitarman got famous
The businessman got rich
And in every bar there was a super star
With a seven year itch
There were fifteen million fingers
Learning how to play
And you could hear the fingers picking
And this is what they had to say
Let there be light
Sound
Drums
Guitar
Let there be rock
One night in a club called 'the shaking hand
There was a ninety-two decibel rocking band
The music was good and the music was loud
And the singer turned and he said to the crowd -
Let there be rock
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A thought after Yeats
When youth was life and life was youth
and life was love and love was life,
I thought love came and went;
its coming, overwhelming; and its going,
death of spirit; then, as if
the wild white swans had flown away
and left the waters of the heart’s lake cold.
But now I know it’s not like that:
love that, guarded, never flies from here in heart
to where it will, may grow dark, cold and miserly;
ungiven every livelong day
it turns to rags and dry old bones,
confiscated in the heart.
Better now, be with those wild white swans
which on a dark cold icy winter’s day
gather at the water’s edge to stretch
for yesterday’s warm loaf still fresh;
then turn, swim, lift strong wings and fly
one knows not where, and may not ask;
watch them then, into the distance;
hear the flap of wings grow into silent air;
pause still a little while;
then turn, one’s living breath
white in that winter air;
then back to warmth of home and love and peat fire
glowing in the hearth of heart renewed.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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With Hope We Build
With hope we build our own
fingers into mission light.
Our temple fingers steeple form
to reaffirm prayer light.
Only our fingers when humanity
needs salvation hand?
Prayer our fingers steeple pray
peace earth wide in every land.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dark Of Night
IN THE DARK OF NIGHT , YOU REACH OUT TO ME , AS I TAKE YOUR HAND, YOU DRAW ME CLOSER AND TOGETHER WE STAND.THE LOOK IN YOUR EYES, THE TOUCH OF YOUR KISS, OUR HEARTS BEAT IN RYTHEM WHEN YOU HOLD ME LIKE THIS, THE TOUCH OF YOUR FINGERS AS THEY SEARCH AND EXPLORE, LEAVES ME BREATHLESS AND WEAK AND YEARNING FOR MORE, THE FEEL OF YOUR BODY PRESSED TIGHT AGAINST MINE, WE ARE LOST IN EACH OTHER, AS THE DARK OF NIGHT TURNS BACK TIME.I REACH OUT TO YOU TO DRAW YOU NEAR, ONLY TO WAKE TO FIND YOU ARE NOT HERE, .IM HOLDING YOUR PILLOW, AND HOLDING IT TIGHT, AS MY CRIES OF SORROW PIERCES THE QUITE, I CALL OUT YOUR NAME IN THE DARK OF NIGHT, I ASK FOR ONLY, ONE LAST CHANCE TO TOUCH YOUR FACE, TO HOLD YOU CLOSE ONE MORE TIME IN THE DARK OF NIGHT. .THE ONLY ANSWER THAT I HEAR, IS THE SHATERING SOUND OF A BREAKING HEART, AND THE ROARING SOUND OF THE SEA OF TEARS , AS I BEGIN FALLING APART., MY FINGERS KEEP SEARCHING THE EMPTY SPACE , WISHING FOR ONE LAST CHANCE TO REACH OUT AND CARESS YOUR FACE.THEY ONLY FIND YOU ARE NOT THERE, THE COLD ROUGH SHEET AWAITS THEM THERE, AS THEY KEEP SEARCHING IN THE DARK NIGHT AIR.
poem by Judy Compton
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No Mean City
Stopped in fright at a traffic light
Red eyes staring me out
Strange feelings comin' down tonight
Can't quite figure it out
Fit your alibi before your crime
No need in serving no time
Case you scam, or you'll get rammed
Stretched out on that line
Hangin' out at a shooting site
Cold turkey calling a tune
All the answers coming late tonight
Try to look like you're immune
In your eyes you can feel the heat
But the feelings outa touch
You're working on just a holding on
You're hurtin' oh so much
Feel the city heartbeat, feel the pulse in the streets
Can you feel the city heartbeat, can you feel the pulse in the streets
Can you feel your own heartbeat
Can you feel your blood begin to heat?
Call off your dogs 'cause i am no fox
Turn off your white light
My alibi is rock tight
Your night stick, cheap trick is pullin' me in
Your monkey suit, stage fright, black and white blue suit, law suit
Is wearin', mighty thin
Feel the city heartbeat, feel the pulse in the streets
Can you feel the city heartbeat, can you feel the pulse in the streets
Can you feel your own heartbeat
Can you feel your blood begin to heat?
Borstal boy laughing at justice now he's a star
And the perfume he wore lingers on the king's road
Like a whore
Legs wrapped around a plastic stool
He's making more in one day
Than you've had.......hot, hot dinners
Call out your legions, the savior is loose
Telling true stories you know that ain't no use
Your empire is burning you can feel the smell
Your hot rod , space pod, tax relief, kill machine
Is looking mean
And should be working well
Feel the city heartbeat, feel the pulse in the streets
Can you feel your own heartbeat
Can you feel the pulse in the streets
Can you feel your own heartbeat
Can you feel your blood begin to heat?
(mccafferty, charlton, cleminson, agnew, sweet)
Copyright 1978 nazsongs/panache music ltd.
International copyright secured. all rights reserved.
1979 a&m records, inc.
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White snow
It had snowed for hours
We remained completely indoors
There was no other go then to confine
Though we all were feeing very fine
It was season’s first fall
We waited for nature’s call
The land was covered with white sheet
The area was deep and clad with many feet
The children came out with no fear
The joyous voice was there to hear
They had their own choice to celebrate
It was wonderful experience to narrate
May be we are representing snow
We have not prepared ourselves to grow
Now as river water is frozen to by Celsius zero
There won’t be any reason for us to feel hero
The relations are frozen to dangerous level
There is hardly anything to project or tell
We have become symbolic as nature
Flowing away from secured line of future
I know every year it may come and snow
The icy winds may be faster to flow
It will send chill waves into bones
The ill waves will never be by gone
I will grow with all sorts of cold and rain
It will be only aimed to get something or gain
Nothing is compared to the quality of nature
As he is totally unaware of it or sure
What will be impact of my cold behavior?
Nothing so far as my nature is known to others
It has deep in our blood and mind
We are not for anything good to find
The cold spell may last long
The snow is part of life and belongs
It may bring fortune little later
When turn into water with complete situation to alter
Though clad completely white over vast area of land
We see no hidden plot from nature’s hand
It is her yearly schedule to be in time as expected
We are here to honor it and positively acted
Though very harsh during complete season
We face it willingly without any reason
It has its own charm and in right place
Complete world is in joy to rush for race
It does not baffle anybody not even local man
They are used to it as normal human
The sports person may have their own inception
The general feeling is for warm welcome and reception
We have into being with reality
Nature has its own cycle and quality
We are not copying any of the hard hit calamities
It has its own inherent inbuilt utilities
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Give me the grain as the pot roll down
sweat that sweeten the wheat, touches the tongue that
sweeten the grain, brings flesh as it boils the potter hot in
the lapped hand it stops
shape and turn into some direction, whether soft or hard
too sharp to touch, comes the most beautiful mold as it
form the most splendid return the eyes have seen
as little fingers linger folded the clay in the water soak
it display; waste no bits and pieces, paste what ever it
may see, putting in the ground for making it dry in the
air it say goodbye
here is my flexible hand and softly touches your whist
line for you to feel the shape you want me to be, roll my
side, to up and down, as the wheat stand in the ground
waiting for you to calm down
pour me down for me to give the ground as you will have
the grains, in you’re sweetening tongue you found.....
poem by Antonio Liao
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