Quite civilisational/Sasvim civilizacijski
within an eye of his own face a circle formed
with the walk along the edges of a clock
into the clock hands the knives stand gathered
they push the time between their teeth
they're cutting a tree of each growth
whatever has grown on the blade
is a dropp written in blood
a buried verse swims within
whatever is sparkling on the blade
is a whiteness of an innocent drop
that whispers I'd like to live
sasvim civilizacijski
u oku lica svog obrazovan krug
ophodom po ivicama sata
u kazaljke skupljeni nozevi
guraju vrijeme medju zube
sakate drvo svakog rasta
sve sto na sjecivu stasa
krvlju je ispisana kap
u kojoj pliva sahranjen stih
sve sto se na sjecivu bjelasa
bjelinom je nevina kap
sto sapce da zivim ja bih
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
This balde
This blade was,
Once silver but,
Is now blood red.
What have I done,
I have to hide again,
The tears have fallen,
For another night.
My arm is now covered,
In blood red stains,
I wish i could erase,
All my pain.
The blade was sarrated,
The worst type of all,
Smooth ends are dated,
Just like blades that are small.
This blade was,
Once silver but,
Is now blood red.
What have I done,
I'm falling asleep,
Again
written 19th may 2010
poem by Jess Jayne
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Thank You My Love
My life has been filed with monsters.
Monsters that smack me when no one is looking,
Monsters that come in the form of words,
Even ones that push me onto their bed.
I run and hide inside of my computer,
Drowning in my tears,
Because it burns when I cry.
Looking for comfort and someone,
To just tell me,
I don’t hate you Becca Purkey.
This is just what he simply,
whispers into my ear when the moon is now bright.
He wrote his way, his way into my heart.
Within his sexy letters.
Now, within the whispers he shares only with me.
This he requires more and more of it with each sun rise.
In today’s light I can sit up,
With a smile on my face,
In the blood drenched casket,
That once laid this weeping poet.
Seeing only the devils end,
Thinking maybe I will try again,
This time not cutting to shallow.
His Texan accent placing the blade out reach,
There is not enough letters in the words THANK YOU,
To express my gratitude for him each and every day.
Thank You, Thank You My Love, I will one day repay you.
With saying I Do.
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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When I Was A Tree / Kad Sam Bila Drvo
Dusk beside the willows
I was standing in the light
A sunward hope wrote
Circles of time around my neck
When I was a tree
A deeply rooted curled hope of growth
Knitted a net of the beginning
There was a trunk under a rough core
The hairs drank the water of dawn
Bare boughs nested a prayer
When I was a tree
I was standing still
And all the movements
Were within me
A birds flight around my treetop
An aureole of the sun beyond
Two things I found out
I cannot sing a tree unless I’m a tree
And
There’s no tree unless I sing it
Kad sam bila drvo
Primrak pokraj breza
Stajala sam svjetlost
Pod dodirom obamrla nada
Putanjom sunca biljezila
Godove vremena na mom vratu
Kad sam bila drvo
Duboko u korjenu
Sklupcana snaga rasta
Plela je mrezu pocetka
Pod hrapavom korom stablo
Zilama upilo svu vodu svitanja
U golom granju gnijezdila se molitva
Kad sam bila drvo
Stajala sam nepomicno
A sva su kretanja bila u meni
Let ptice oko moje krosnje
Oreol sunca visoko iznad
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Lost Child At Dawn
I didn't write this one but I love it very much and I can really relate to it...
Cutting the final edges
from the form.
Loose change dangles
dignity forlorn.
Stake in heart bleeds forsaken
life away.
The blade turns and drains the
soul breath away.
Angel pass overhead and branches shake
out lies.
The blade sinks in
and fifth victim dies.
poem by Tiana Webb
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The clock is clicking
The clock is clicking
It is clicking to show just then
A time span of one second
Has become the past
The clock is clicking
Each click means a step
Towards your progress and growth
Optimistic wisdom says
The clock is clicking
Each click means a nail
Onto your coffin
Philosophical wisdom says
The clock is clicking
Each click means the arrival
Of a child in India
Population expert worries
The clock is clicking
Each click means the committal
Of a crime
Police personnel observes
The clock is clicking
Each click means a travel of 2.5 km
In space of the earth's surface
Astromer estimates
The clock is clicking
Each click means a change
In fortune of an individual
Astrologer announces
The clock is clicking
Each click means the admission
Of a heart patient
Health specialist heaves
The clock is clicking
Each click means the drain
Of my battery
The clock cries within
The clock is clicking
Let the clock be clicking
Let any one have his or her inkling
Let us be lively and kicking
Let nothing stop us becoming a king
The clock is clicking
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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At Six O'clock
I heard the Ave Maria at six o'clock,
Today hear crimes on the radio at six o'clock.
I watched The Little Princess on tv at six o'clock,
Today watch explicit sex at six o’clock.
I was playing catch-up with my friends at six o'clock,
Today lonely children play atari at six o'clock.
I drank hot soup at six o’clock,
Today guys smoke crack at six o'clock.
I prayed to the guardian angel at six o'clock,
Today they kill people at six o'clock.
I studied algebra at six o'clock,
Today are planned crimes at six o'clock.
I was happy at six o'clock,
Today are all scared at six o'clock.
Parody in honor of Llorca
poem by Aschelminto Da Silva
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Final Warning
Here for first time cutters is a warning for me to you
Cutting is not the answer for the pain you're going through
It may seem at the time that your options are small
Cutting only makes it worse and I will tell it all
You may start out with small ones that barely sting or bleed
But trust me the more you do it, the more that you will need
You'll need the blood, you'll crave it, you won't be able to run
It will ruin your life, consume your soul, it won't be very fun
And it will change everything about you even the wat you act and dress
And you won't be able to stop it as your life becomes a mess
And everything inside you will scream to hide the cuts
No more tee-shirts no more swimsuits, no ifs and or buts
And you will cringe when people lay their hands upon your skin
As your very essense within fears they'll find your sin
And you'll say you'll never cut deep because you never had
But wait untill things get tough, I mean really really bad
You'll lay that blade against your skin and push with all your might
And as you watch your blood flow out you'll begin to shake with fright
And you'll curse and scream but it won't help, you've sealed your fate
Because by the time help arrives, it is already too late
Your body lies there cold and still in your bloodied bed
And there is nothing you can do about it cause you're already dead
So here for first time cutters is a warning frome me to you
Cutting is not the answer for the pain you're going through
Find a reason to go on, to live and take another breath
Because a painful as your life is, it's nothing compared to death
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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When I was a tree
within the twiligth beside the willows
I stood the light
with the hope almost dying
under the fingertips
I marked by a sunbeam path
the circles of time around my neck
when I was a tree
deep down in the root
the strength of my growth was squatted
it weaved the web of a beginning
under a rough core the trunk
sucked in all the water of a dawn
within the bare boughs there nested
a prayer of mine for the end
the leaves like mirrors reflected the sky
when I was a tree
I stood motionless
and all the movements were there within
the flight of a bird around my treetop
an aureole of the sun high up
the piercing of the wind through the boughs
all the penetrations deep into the ground
when I was a tree
within the twilight beside the willows
all I stood was the light
and I knew
I cannot sing a tree unless I am a tree
and there is no tree unless I sing it
kad sam bila drvo
u primraku pokraj breza
stajala sam svjetlost
pod dodirom obamrla nada
putanjom sunca bilježila
godove vremena na mom vratu
kad sam bila drvo
duboku u korijenju
sklupčana snaga rasta
plela je mrežu početka
pod hrapavom korom stablo
žilama upilu svu vodu svitanja
u golom granju gnijezdila se
molitva moja za kraj
a lišće kao ogledala
presijava nebo
kad sam bila drvo
stajala sam nepomično
a sva su kretanja bila u meni
let ptice oko moje krošnje
oreol sunca visoko iznad
probijanje vjetra kroz granje
sva poniranja duboko u zemlju
kad sam bila drvo
u sumraku pored breza
stajala sam samo svjetlost
i znala
ne mogu pjevati drvo ako nisam drvo
i nema drveta osim ako ga ne ispjevam
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Clock Keeps Ticking
I want alone to be
I want to drown in lonely sea
But the clock keeps ticking
I want to stop
I want to forever halt
But the clock keeps beating
I want to run
I want far away from land
But the clock keeps pursuing
I want to hide
I no more want to think of fight
But the clock keeps shouting
I want to rest
I want in dream hibernate
But the clock keeps breaking
I want to sing
I want to strengthen the spring
But the clock keeps shaking
I want to only follow
I no longer want to know
But the clock keeps pumping
I want to hurt
I don’t care if I should hate
But the clock keeps moving
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Last night
Last night I asked the drop
what nobody had dared to ask before
I said
come on, isn't it time you washed my face
isn't it time you stopped falling in tears
isn't it time for me to drink you
isn't it time for you to touch me
isn't it time for me to see the world within you
come on, what are you waiting for
why don't you finally fall down
that was the rage of a dead chicken
Sinoc sam rekla kaplji
sto joj niko ranije nije smio reci
rekla sam
hajde, nije li vrijeme da me umijes
nije li vrijeme da suzom prestanes
nije li vrijeme da te popijem
nije li vrijeme da dotaknes
nije li vrijeme da u tebi sagledam svijet
hajde sta cekas
zasto vec jednom prosto ne kanes
bio je to bijes mrtvog pileta
Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Genesis (In The Beginning)
In the beginning there was nothingness and God but waved his hand
and from the endless void there sprang the beauty of the land
and high above the canyon walls the diamond stars were new
and breezes blew from nothingness and herbs and grasses grew
and silent creatures roamed the Earth and multiplied their [Do7]kind
and man was but a molecule that God had left behind.
Chorus:
We have grown we have grown, we have captured the throne
of the kingdom God made for our winning.
We have grown we have grown, but our children alone
have so little time left for beginning.
And mountains sprang and chaos rang the overture of life
and rivers coursed the twisted blade of natures sharpest knife
and cut beneath the rolling dales a gateway to the sea
while tidal waves and mighty gales were heard in symphony
and sunshine fell upon the waves and warmed the virgin land
and from the mud a drop of blood was left upon the sand.
(Chorus)
And eagles flew from craggy peaks above the garden wall.
The drop of blood became a man, the tree of life grew tall.
And perfect in his loneliness, a rib pulled from his chest
formed a sweet companion of pulchritude and breast.
And from the tree of knowledge God said they could not eat.
And perfect was their paradise unto the serpent at their feet.
(Chorus)
Tree of knowledge, tree of death, upon the ground they trod.
The serpent said your eye's will see and ye will be a god.
Defy the word and eat the fruit and ye will never die
and you will chart your destiny and rule the Earth and sky.
And man was banished east of Eden. See what we have lost.
For though the father sets the price, the children pay the cost.
(Chorus)
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Lies Ahead
It was a windy day that day
But the apple still fell near its tree
The clock struck zero
A cry filled the room
A son of the past
The father of the future
The distance between two feet
As the clock ticked life away
The ground was opened each day
And seeds dropped quietly in it
Days came and walked away
With the same plot and stale tale
All looked upon the future
Wondering what glory lied ahead
Will I walk on the sky or ask the ground to bury me?
The clock delivered the future as he promised
Each got a basket of past deeds returned
The acorn became a mighty oak
It was a windy day that day
Yet the apple refused to fall far from the tree
All that had gone around
Came around to say hello
The future was here and held glory for some
The future was here and turned off the lights of others
The future is the past hidden in a seed
Today is tomorrow
What do you want to lie ahead?
Dig your ground
Drop your seed
Stand your ground
It will be a windy day that day
But your apple will fall right in your life
And when all you've done around
Comes around to say hello
You'd firmly shake their hands
And say, I've been waiting for you
My whole life long, welcome.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Live race
Let it be art, science or trade
They are like edges of blade
Never allow you easy success
Many times you will loose the face
Try hard and overcome the line
Push everything aside and keep on side line
The success story may be repeated
Happiness and joy with us and to feel elated
We are not here to cry over failure
Nothing is certain or to be taken for sure
Original product may turn out to be impure
So is life and may turn any time sour
Love to live and enjoy rich fruits
It may give you room to suit
Adjust with the odds and face
Life is constant chase and live race
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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My New Best Friend The Blade
i love my new best friend the blade
It cuts the pain away out of my body
I love my new best friend The blade
As i cut into my skin a smile appears
I love my new best friend the blade
As the blood drip from my bestfriend
I love my best friend the blade
It takes the pain away for a short time
Cant Wait to see my best friend
poem by Ari Castillo
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Hands On A Clock
If we stop
the hands on a clock
does time stand still
in our minds
only to move again
when we restart the clock
Could we survive
in a world without time
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Sick And Tired
Depression, saddness
hopes, dreams
all things i have,
two things i want
i want to feel happy,
feel warmth.
im so cold.
i cant get warm. nothing helps.
blankets dont do any good.
im cold inside, not out.
my skin hurts
my hands hurt
they are sick.
sick and tired of cutting.
holding the blade
making the motion to slide the blade into my arm
tired of providing the presure, the pain, the blood.
tired.
sick.
sick and tired of it all.
poem by Xx. Emo Chick .xx Mrt.
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What If Time Travelled In A Straight Line?
the hands of time travel in a very small circle
of our watch.
the sound is minimalistic, only the wrist is disturbed.
or the wall. or the bed.
everyday round the clock. Faithful.
i like it to travel on a very straight line. Have an edge.
I will push it. It will fall. I want it dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Room/Soba
The room the dropp of space
Inhabited by the dwelling mistrust
A grain four dimensioned pushed
Into time as if pushed into an hour
That tick tock possessed by
The sound of its own rhythm
Crosses the limits into an endless over itself
It wants eternity immortality
The root of each a-prefix
Obliteration of oppositions
Endlessly sharpened into the hints
Of each existence where there exists
Endlessly crossed
The room cannot be corners overstepping
It's got its depth the magic power of the center
Matrix of a metropolis cube
Its own soul crying for a mother
The room the mythrix of the outcast of delivery
Evenly creates the sharp lines of writtenness
Within its own creation
Without a single dropp of fear
Of closed space
Soba
Soba kap prostora u koji ulazi nepovjerenje stanovanja
Četvrtom dimenzijom survan grumen u vrijeme
Ko u sat što tik tak ophrvan opsjednut
Zvukom sopstvenog ritma opkoračuje granice
Teži u beskraj preko samog sebe
Hoće vječnost besmrtnost hoće korijen svakog a-prefiksa
Ukidanje suprotnosti neizmjerno izoštrenih
U obrise svakog postojanja
Kojim se postoji raspeto do iznemoglosti
Soba ne može biti premošćivanje uglova
Ona ima dubinu magičnu moć centra
Matrix kocke metropolu sopstvene duše
Što za majkom jauče
Soba je 'mitriks' na kojoj odrod radjanja
Ujednačeno tvori oštre linije iscrtanosti
U sopstvenom tvorenju bez kapi straha
Od zatvorenog prostora
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Poem of Child 1
Wondering at the world,
Feeling the soft touch of hands,
And warmth of her breast,
Smelling her fragrance,
Hearing beloved mother's voice
I opened my eyes!
Wonderful was that first sight,
Where then I found father, brothers and sisters,
Where I was before these people found me?
unknown I was, may be a traveller,
Or may be some charged cosmic ray,
May I am here million times,
Each time not lucky to know parents,
Sometimes came out egg breaking shells,
May Sometime breaking seedcoat,
Lifting my head above ground,
Germinating plant or may be as a magot in fruit,
However I am lucky this time,
Where I can know myself,
Seeing my face at least in mirror,
This time feeling more love,
More hopes,
Learning languages and knowledge of ages,
I grow with smile, smile on face of others
on my thoughts and deeds,
Words and thoughts,
Smile grew on Face of my parents with my growth!
Mastering senses one by one,
Mastering legs and hands,
Mastering own mind step by step,
I move here with time and space,
I had to adjust with this clock and distance,
Yes each evrytime I have to adjust to the clock,
My body clock to be synchronized everytime!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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King Of Souls
I'm the Scarecrowman, I'm swingin'
swingin'-I'm the Scarecrowman,
swingin' swingin' from the hangin'
tree-the clock-clock-clock
on the wall is ticking away
my time-the sentence is
past, now I'm paying for my
crimes-I reach out-out for the
hands of time, but they're
out of reach-I said I reach out-
out for the setting sun but
it's out-gone out of my reach-
the dust in the wind is blowing its
way back to Horror Hill-little girls
voodoo dolly sitting-on the windows sill-
the broken glass sparkles in the light-sign
on the door tells me No One Home Tonight-
Said I'm the Scarecrowman wasting
away and I'm swingin' swingin'
on the hangin' tree
song performed by by White Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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