A Flipping Vision
Some flipping visions leave behind,
Gripping influence on the mind,
They do refresh us more and more,
When are recalled to be flavoured,
From the heap of sunken memories.
I saw a damsel full in size and bulk,
With healthy sanguine vigorous face,
As her blood would trickle out soon,
She was built with all perfections,
Her features raised waves of pain,
Indelible, never to be erased again.
In the glassy house she moved around,
With modest lowering eyes to the ground,
She had no interest in the objects aside,
Seemed to be busy in domestic doings,
Her flexible black dressed shining hair,
Flowed down upon her shoulders,
Her gait and each gesture did bear,
Signs of serene air and celestial piety.
I standing out of the transparent walls,
Looked across with a sense of meekness,
Feeling myself too meager to be attended,
Left the place with loathsome sullen heart.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Related quotes
Perfect Circle
Put your hair back, we get to leave
Eleven gallows on your sleeve
Shallow figure, winners paid
Eleven shadows way out of place
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Pull your dress on and stay real close
Who might leave you where I left off?
A perfect circle of acquaintances and friends
Drink another, coin a phrase
Heaven assumed, shoulders high in the room
Heaven assumed, shoulders high in the room
Heaven assumed, shoulders high in the room
Try to win and suit your needs
Speak out sometimes but try to win
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War Torn Skies
Ancient asylum
War Torn skies
Ruins - ash - cinder
The taste of blood soaked soil
All chaos consumed within
The rage of the aeons.
I find myself in a room with a girl
Short blonde her
Lost
Confused
As I
She looks worried but more than worried
Dismayed and terrified
The walls of the room were black with filth
We are alone
And the feeling ensues that not one other soul
Graces these horizons for we are alone.
No home is this to call our own.
Black with filth and smeared rust blood
As though they had not been used since the days of the asylum
But no reason was there to assume this as sanctuary for unfiltered minds
Apart from the visions in my mind, unfiltered visions of future surreal
A future past and present were all I could feel at once.
Visions of horror, torture long since lost to the memory of the world
Women screaming in concentration, children burnt and slaughtered
And in that very room a thousand rapes of innocence.
Nurses mutilating patients with dire satisfaction.
The girl in the room with her holds me as I have my visions
I lay shaking, sweating, and crying at the pain of these memories
And as she grabbed my shoulder I shout, yawping louder than any
Barbarian may have imagined the human voice could muster
I claimed the horrors I could see, woman had been raped and debased
Within these walls, and the pain was sickening and then the girl
In the room grabbed my shoulders and I shout up my head looking
Directing into her eyes which had become planetary masses of moon light qualities
And a star appeared on her forehead and we were one in an instants flash
At this point I awoke, sweating, with the vision of this asylum in my mind.
poem by David Lacey
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Snakes! Snakes!
Though it was a nightmare, yet very close to reality,
It is too hard to decide,
Make difference what the world was,
Where I was placed.
A patch was no more than an acre but full of snakes,
They sit coiled very close to one another,
Those which crawled, crawled with slow move.
They were of many colours, form and shapes;
Some were gold shining and some dark green,
Some were glassy transparent,
Trailed their bodies behind their thick necks,
Lashed flexibly if made of ploythene.
I had hardly a spot to place my feet,
At each step I was stung with deadly fangs,
At the bitten spots I felt the trouble as someone,
Placed the burning coals;
And in the veins my blood ran,
As boiled water runs in the tubes.
At last a big black serpent bit the spot at my chest
Where my heart pulsates underneath;
I fell back upon the creeping reptiles,
And they covered my body from all sides around.
As I wriggled to come out of their grip,
I awoke with a sense of pain.
Though the nightmare was fleeting yet it left behind,
An effect of permanence.
Now when I sit alone with lose thoughts,
And relaxed mind,
I feel the same titillating moves on my body,
I can not decide where these reptiles creep,
On my body or in my soul, but snakes impart me pain.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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(Blind) Fear In My Eyes
i looked at my eyes
for the very first time
all i could see
were the blind fear in my eyes
i roared off in the middle of thought
...where is everyone when i need them most?
i asked, not
in grief or anger, in despair may be
on foot, my face and lips all cracked
as i ventured into the jungle, my teeth chattered
in cold but very hot emotions of wondering
how luck could have left me so alone,
i squat to the feeling of nothingness
like a stone falling from a distant heart
and narrowly escaped with my life at heart
tried to suppress my memories at heart
and my blood runs in cold as i recollect
a sudden cry over my shoulder at once
i looked at my eyes again; at once
and spoke timidly to my person's eyes
how hard it were without surprise
of any emotional upheaval to rise
as the wind blew into every crack of mine
and soaked my person to the skin one time
as i looked straight into my eyes
i could see how the grass
and flowers
sprout and spring in intimacy
but pain
within
for all i had w
ere all lost and gone again
like the tiny little butterflies
on my mind
that covered all my thoughts to the end
with misery written all over my face
and looked a sorry sight on my face
i could barely see myself
and still looked blindly at my eyes
at last, and rested
opn17112012/1315
extract from: 'the blind fear in my eyes'
source: 'the mind and the science of life' book no.13 of 2012
(c) nov.2012
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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A Dream
Alongside the wide gray road stood I,
To watch a procession passed by,
Of the damsels, rather all in teen,
Of the same size height and colour,
The bulk and body; dressed in green,
But all bore the features quite different.
Drenched them the incessant rain;
They passed and passed by jostling,
In silence in rows long, unendingly,
Numerous, countless were they all,
Neither worried, nor did seem happy;
Glanced they at me with stealing looks,
And I stood silent with lowering eyes,
Peeping into innerself like a criminal,
When brought among the fellow men.
It confounds, troubles me when I think,
Whether their plight was shown to me,
Or mine to them, I could not decide.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Fleeting Visions
How sometimes invisible secret eyes,
Capture marvellous fleeting visions,
And see the spectrum of reality,
But the wise regard a product of insanity.
Often I wonder at the sight strange,
And the heart longs to have once again;
That my eyes captured,
While praying to God for bounteous blessings
On the Matchless and the Most Sacred.
I do swear, I did behold,
The fair creature sitting straight
In the rows long, each extended,
Left to right, beyond the sight,
With folded knees, in silence serene,
Of the same colour, age and size,
Myriad like blossomed pink poppies,
Cultivated in lines, swaying in breeze.
Long lashes, black brows, modest eyes,
The ornaments of down casting purity,
Muslin coverings on the heads veiling
Rosy faces emitting thin glow,
Sat on the ground, swayed heads,
Like oscillating cradle about to stop.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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All I Have To Do Is Kill Her
Pulling this watch as faces go
Pulling in a word and done it slow this other time
I see your face is silent
Oh, we go away and play
What have you done
Takes a feeling inside us all
Continue out with just one push in my mouth
But you're so close now
And you're so close now
All i have to do is three short blows
All that still is best inside
The full when the wall
And you don't even know
And the other faces here with me
The others dressed in summers thing
If only one way is to be beautiful
If only one way is to the other song
And every time it's you, it's like the blood on the stairs is sent away
And every time we see it's all said before you
If only the ways to kill you
You used to say this fear of drowning
Fear no death by water
Father walks in at the foot of the bed
Six of you want to see you safe
Just one time you'll meet this man
All you've got to do is kill her
And all you've got to do is kill her
Trickle the sands against and pull the animals
Just out of the womb
Seeing the cow dead before he was born
It's the man he, he loved
The solid pieces fell on the ground
He couldn't kill another life
He couldn't kill another life
He couldn't kill another life
It's all been painted with love
It could have been some friends
Pulling strings to meet you
All i want to do is reach it
She says 'let go my shoulder!'
See the sky!
And the sky goes black
And the sky goes black
I just want to feel her
I just want to feel her
I just want you to feel it
I just want you to feel it
Everytime i looked up the stairs
I used to see her die
She would move so slow
Anyone could've been but she was a cat
Anyone could've been she was a cat
Pulling away as i used to fight
That's just playing so low
That ugly or pretty
The face stays the same
Her face stays the same
Her face stays the same
The ugly or pretty
Her face stays the same, stays the same, stays the same
And looking on the final walls
And looking on the final walls
Did you now find this malice out
The angels fall
Let's make some more ('noise'?)
Let's make some more ('noise'?)
Help me be your mother for just one day
Let's fall in churches far outside
They used to love they used to love...
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Night
The beauteous bride dressed in black,
Whose fair forehead is adorned,
With a huge round piece of gold,
Glowing galaxies are fretted,
In the combed lustrous dark hair.
Always comes out after the sunset,
Walks behind the groom of day,
With modest gait, blushed shy face,
Exposing what revealing light conceals,
But hides the frail deeds of humanity.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Tassie's Pain
Blood everywhere, watching it trickle down my hand;
My heart beating faster:
Pain is love...
Pain is feeling, feeling of hurt coursing through my body
Captivating me... invigorating in its own sense;
Pain is lovely...
Love is pain and pain is love but its pain to my body and my body is my temple,
And its bleeding from the inside...
Cutting it felt like an escape but it was doing the opposite,
Kind of like locking myself out and throwing away the key
Pain is adrenaline,
That never ending rush that never satisfy
But where does pain come from?
Why does it never end? Will it never end?
Pain is amazing,
It's like rotten grapes, but isn't that what wine really is? They say that's good for me, pain must be good too,
So I am shivering, head down in the sink,
A razor in my sights, with my hand shaking like its got Parkinson's
Cut....
Painfully sweet...
Pain is home
A home I built on the sand
Sand that is being blown away by my cries of hurt
Home is where my heart is
Meaning my pain is pumping hurt throughout my body
Razor still in hand, with the blood is draining down the sink
I raise it higher; thinking one slice of the jugular will end it all
The continuous pain
Cut....
I survived
poem by Lusekelo Simwela
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Red
Place that bayonet in my hand,
And fill this pouch with lead;
Show me the blood and leave me, and let me
Stand
By my dead.
Cover those staring eyes and go
And stab in the red, red rain.
Show me that blood and leave me. They groan
In the snow.
With the pain.
Cover his head with a scarlet cloak,
And run to your scarlet strife,
Show me that blood and leave me, where white
Snows choke
Out the life.
Turn his face to the sanguine skies,
The skies where the red stars move.
Show me that blood and leave me; a dead man lies
With his love.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Uwaoma
My love-jaundiced eyes
Are intent on the moon
Because I see no celestial curio
Only her wild serene face
Face that rouses my hunger
Desperate and unquenchable
Because she is no real meal
Only an abominable bowl of pork
Pork which Eleazar
Does not even simulate
Because I sense no satisfaction
Only a bait to fire my hunger
Hunger being Alexandrian
Wields a weapon futile
Because I crave no Maria
Only her absorbent tranquility
Tranquility like Stephen's
When wrathful stones soothe me
Because I feel no pain
Only an orgasmic jaundice
Jaundice in my eyes
That squint so into the moon
Because I see no celestial curio
Only her wild serene face.
poem by Oluchukwu Ifechukwu
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House Of Mayors
They are crowding the stage of these hallowed confines
Representing the parties
In here are enshrined the one hundred-odd figures of men
Wearing suits, who in sum
Constitute the assembly of the house of mayors
Stacked in columns and rows
Dressed in period clothes
Near a wig, a pince-nez affixed to a nose
And the full complements in attendance at the house of mayors
(house of mayors)
House of mayors
(house of mayors)
House of mayors
(house of mayors)
House of mayors
(house of mayors)
House of mayors
And theyre all up there, on the stage
And were introduced to them all
And theyre all still standing up there
When the last tour exits the hall
The effect is so real
That its chilling to watch
As the creaking automatons all lurch
Into action, and act out historical deeds
And make speeches, sign legislation
And turn their heads and blink their eyes
Though the room has a faintly musty smell
You forget where you are, you are under their spell
And the spell that was cast was the ballot for the house of mayors
George finby!
Alexander whigmore!
Patrick obarr!
Conrad spectacle!
Carl van krieg!
Antonio botton!
They are all still standing in there
In the dark in there, in the night
Similarity lurks under styles of moustache
These anemic, loyal, ? ? ? *
With a woman attending in fashion
In fashion; if some other face
Looked too much out of place
Would it spoil it for everyone else?
Some express disappointment when leaving the hall
Some feel cheated or mad--bear in mind, one and all
The next act of the show is an infinite row
Of unoccupied chairs, in a big room upstairs
In the house of the yet-to-be mayors
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Standing Alone
You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.
You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.
Don't ever try to lie to me.
I'll leave you,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.
Or hide in your eyes you deceive.
You'll be,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.
You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.
You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.
Like a game of one on one in hoop,
You'll be playing alone.
Playing alone.
Or hiding in the bushes too!
You'll be hiding alone.
To be left on your own!
You don't know the place I come from.
I'll leave you standing alone!
Standing alone.
Don't ever try to lie to me.
I'll leave you,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.
Or hide in your eyes you deceive.
You'll be,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.
Don't ever try to lie to me.
I'll leave you,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.
Don't ever try to lie to me.
Or hide in your eyes you deceive.
You'll be,
Standing alone.
Standing alone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Image
The girl in the mirror stared back at me.
Unflinching.
Eyes blood shot.
Cheeks stained with tears and sweat.
Her hands dangled weakly, swollen
and splattered with blood.
Matted hair sprung from her head and the black circles
made her eyes seem all the more sunken. Desperate.
She was small. Shriveled.
All hope sucked from her soul and left a scar
across her gray face like a tree branch
reaching for the sun but anchored by the abandoned
body of a young girl whose heart
had long ago stopped beating.
the fallen soldier of a country whose world
had fought against it. A country of Purity.
And this girl raised a cut and bruised arm
and lifted the mask from her face. Hesitantly.
The scars faded.
They left tiny white lines on my arms and face.
And my eyes cleared;
Hope glistening from them
and making my skin glow.
My hair curled softly.
My hands healed and were cleansed.
A slight pink stain rested on my fingers
My flesh was watered back to life.
And I smiled.
A weak, crooked sort of smile.
My teeth were not in their places
and a few were chipped,
but I loved the sight of that broken grin.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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More Than This
I woke up and the world outside was dark
All so quiet before the dawn
Opened up the door and walked outside
The ground was cold
I walked until I couldnt walk anymore
To a place Id never been
There was something stirring in the air
In front of me, I could see
More than this
More than this
So much more than this
There is something else there
When all that you had has all gone
And more than this
I stand
Feeling so connected
And Im all there
Right next to you
It started when I saw the ship go down
I saw them struggle in the sea
And suddenly the picture disappears
In front of me
Now were busy making all our busy plans
On foundations built to last
But nothing fades as fast as the future
And nothing clings like the past, until we can see
More than this
More than this
So much more than this
There is something out there
More than this
Its coming through
And more than this
I stand alone and so connected
And Im all there
Right next to you
Oh then its alright
When with every day another bit falls away
Oh but its still alright, alright, alright
And like words together we can make some sense
Much more than this
Way beyond imagination
Much more than this
Beyond the stars
With my head so full
So full of fractured pictures
And Im all there
Right next to you
So much more than this
There is something else there
When all that you had has all gone
And more than this
Im alone
Feeling so connected
And Im all there right next to you
More than this
More than this
More than this
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Remains in an Empty House
There remains something, indefinable and invaluable,
left behind in an empty house; once the boxes are packed and sealed,
the trucks loaded, the tedious inventory and heavy hauling halted,
the obligatory labor dutifully fulfilled,
something remains, standing on its own, without feet nor measure,
apart from that human sense of accomplishment.
Something undeniable. Something I cannot resist.
Something that lays itself upon the silence without body nor motion.
Something unseen before now, appearing before my eyes in crisp, full view.
Once the accumulated clots of clutter are removed
blood flows, in vigorous currents, throughout the
cleansed arteries of an impeccable empty house.
A house void of pots and pans, potted plants,
silver cutlery and crystalware, plates,
clothes, loungers, divans, televisions, microwaves
comforters, mattresses, boxsprings and bedposts,
A house void of possession and convenience.
A house full of measureless, indivisible
space...
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Full Of You
Cardboard boxes on the floor
They contain memories and so much more
Black and white photographs
Faded now but I remember how we laughed
Theres nothing left for me to do
Ive an empty house, full of you
Pour myself a glass of wine
Let it breathe but I dont give it too much time
Take another and set it down
I kid myself theres nobody else around
Theres nothing left for me to do
Ive an empty glass, full of you
But let me tell you baby
I cant fight the feeling
I never stopped believing
You were coming back to me
I hear footsteps by the door
Could it be theres nothing else that I want more
There you stand in front of me
I see your face my heart has wings you set me free
Theres nothing left for me to do
Now my empty heart, is full of you
But let me tell you baby
I cant fight the feeling
I never stopped believing
You were coming back to me
Let me tell you darling
Never did I doubt you
I cant live without you
Its so good youre back with me
song performed by by Rick Astley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark
What will I do with a fountain
of time
my silence
is a well without a dropp of water
I can weep in the dark
weep and its silence will hear me
but it will close its eyes
it will not speak
the evening will tread on
quietly an old man
it will walk on without looking back
without seeing where its shadow
sleeps
and I can say wait where
are you going
and I can think of all the places I can think of
I can think of walls walls walls
of walls behind which anything lurks
I can lock myself
in a closet full of clothes not my size
fill my pockets with dust
or take off my clothes and imagine
my skin is ice
and I will be standing here
where I am standing stepping on moments
that sharpen into hours like thorns
into my feet
the wound in my heart is deep
the pain does not answer to any name
where is the door
the window the door
*reprinted from a friend
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Place In The Sun
Gotta get that feeling
God I love this feeling
Someone come and stop me cuz this I'm winning
I should have left you when I was up
I should have left you when I was up
I should've had enought sense to
Get up and leave this town
I should've had enough sense to
It was a turn around
Walking through the golden sands I'm quenching my thirst
Jump into the fountain and I'm going head first
Lost in a place in the sun
And it's going down
It's going down
It's going down
It's going down
I should have left you when I was up
I should have left you when I was up
I should've had enought sense to
Get up and leave this town
I should've had enough sense to
It was a turn around
I should've had enought sense to
Get up and leave this town
I should've had enough sense to
It was a turn around
Lost in a place in the sun
And it's going down
It's going down
It's going down
It's going down
song performed by by Lit from A Place In The Sun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where I Live....you Know It.
a house is built
made of bricks, red as blood
at the center of the island
black as a mole
at the middle of your right
cheek
it is fenced by the locks of
your hair
it is guarded by the cautious
tongue of your face
at the other side
bounded by a big brown river
is a cottage
no living room, no kitchen
not even a restroom
it is just a square cottage
with roof leaking
where i can see the stars
if you know me well enough
for years that i have been with you
and for days that i have left you
you shall know where i live
and if you love me well enough
you'll take nothing with you
to follow me
and i know you will never be lost
until you find
the place where my heart sings
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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