Love’s Spirit
Love is the goal so bold,
May flowers of the sun be cold;
For fear of death and life,
I take into my arms my wife.
Let ages pass before I tell
The secret of my stupid hell;
Hearts always roll up fine words,
Their meanings fly like birds.
May the heavenly spirit come at last,
To peer into soldiery and contrast;
Lull the fighting so taught by others,
Even be those of the adorers.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Before My Eyes
I see before my eyes the wonderful words,
Speak them around the mouth to sustain,
So that meanings are clear to the birds.
I saw so many reasons to master and also afterwards,
Seen so many sessions of praise of this book to attain,
I see before my eyes the wonderful words.
Created and longed for, the books and pages are blizzards,
Looking for times so tight with sin again,
So that meanings are clear to the birds.
May we attain longevity when we read books backwards,
Leaning against the wall to hasten the air plane,
I see before my eyes the wonderful words.
Pleasing us one way is like living a way of life with hazards,
Leading is a disease of words, so frightening for after pain,
So that meanings are clear to the birds.
Can the heraldry of our country be the same innards,
Liking this sign captures the books’ meanings from the brain,
So that meanings are clear to the birds,
I see before my eyes the wonderful words.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The War Song
Chorus 1:
War war is stupid
And people are stupid
And love means nothing
In some strange quarters
Chorus 2:
War war is stupid
And people are stupid
And I heard them banging
On hearts and fingers
People fill the world
With narrow confidence
Like a child at birth
A man with no defense
Whats mine is my own
I wont give it to you
No matter what you say
No matter what you do
Now were fighting
In our hearts
Fighting in the street
Wont somebody help me?
(chorus 1)
(chorus 2)
Man is far behind
In the search for something new
Like a philistine
Were burning witches too
This world of fate
Must be designed for you
It matters what you say
It matters what you do
Now were fighting
In our hearts
Fighting in the street
Wont somebody help me?
(chorus 1)
(chorus 2)
After the bird has flown
He walked ten thousand
Miles back home
You cant do that to me, no
You cant do that to me
You cant do that to me, no
You cant do that to me
Now were fighting
In our hearts
Fighting in the street
Wont somebody help me?
(chorus 1)
(chorus 2)
song performed by by Culture Club
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gaff
Oh what a wonderfull moses staff
that works wonders deleting laugh
and traps all man that from life way stray
leaving his sumppuous body to rot and throw away
now listen to my noisy wisper
the cause of my brave horse's wimper
listen to the secret of life
the source and end of husband and wife
thn words you read now is the earths wicket
hear the whistling
words of the widgeon and cricket
it says that for life only one can fortell
he is the one to you, i tell
that same is he, the secret of life
tis he that bid us live without strife
its him that holds the knife and life
he is the father without wife
now here is the secret
that life is living and death is retreat
and both war and retreat, he controls
just as he made plants and woad
he is the truth, life and road
God.., fear him
poem by Gideon Zerah Ogbonna
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Til Death
Kill.
Were fighting death in a living hell.
Were fighting death remove any wait.
Were fighting death in a living hell.
Fighting death.
Were fighting death in a living hell.
Were fighting death remove any wait.
Were fighting death in a living hell.
Fighting death.
You play the loser.
Remain to live.
Live to the day.
Find the need, kill all.
Kill, raid, rot, and live to fight death.
We loathe thee to the death.
Loathe its lies.
Fight til the death.
Live, we die.
Kill for the need.
Death we love.
It lied.
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dark Knight Comes Too Pass
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
From a mere boy
Being raised by the wolves
Living in the darkness for just too long
Something just went so wrong
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
Was it a death so desperately
Forever in misery
A loves tragedy
Is always so sad to see
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
The not so dead family
A murder held with in their arms
With no recourse
With no remorse
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
He's the alternate ending
As the light comes to pass
Shadows lurk
They shouldn't be disturbed
Let them rest in peace
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
Festered hate fills his eyes
As he is victimized
By those desecrated his loves ones grave
Becoming of the nightly terrors
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Friends of stones
It is not a paradise
although the sing of birds
It is not the Hell
although the song of birds
although the sound of waves
it is only our world
with many songs in the sky
with many birds in the dream
with many birds in really
It ‘s here that we are living
we are little, very little
we are old, very old
we are wandering,
wandering and loving
this space
we are also
friends of stones
friends of rocks
Fear is with us
But what fear?
A fear sweet
A fear black
or another fear?
Where is the fire of the fear?
Where is the fear of the fear?
Into our World
in a deep of monster
nobody know this
in this world of the words
in this words of the world
but what fear screechs
here and now
without your hands
of red sun?
poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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Dews make Grass and Leaves to Weep!
Neither I am Bruce lee,
I got only bruises fully,
I am not Tiger Woods,
Just fear to Tiger and woods,
I am not the Ronaldo who score
goal after goal,
Only I suffer a lot to achieve a goal,
I am not Jordan or Jackson,
Not even can sprint or jump,
Not I am Tagore or Gibran,
Not even like kayyam or Rumi,
Not my feelings or words can
make others feel,
Not I am Alexander,
the great,
Not That Chengez or Ghazni,
Nor that Ashoka the great, Still dogs and cats,
Trees and birds,
Sun and stars,
Moon and clouds,
Rainbows and flowers
Fruit trees love
me,
As they know how innocently I
love them,
Some day raining clouds may call
me,
the light in that lightning
may take me to my beloved!
Birds may sing farewell, flowers may say good bye,
The morning on which I will not be on earth,
At least, the morning dews make
grass and leaves to shed tears for
me!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Heavenly Arms
Heavenly arms reach out to hold me
Heavenly arms entice you to dance
In a world of ill will, the dancers are still
Heavenly arms reach out to me
Heavenly arms soft as a love song
Heavenly arms bring a kiss to your ear
In a world that seems mad, all the dancers seem sad
Heavenly arms reach out to me
Sylvia
Sylvia
Sylvia
Sylvia
Heavenly arms come to my rescue
Only a woman can love a man
In a world full of hate, love should never wait
Heavenly arms reach out to me
Heavenly arms strong as a sunset
Heavenly arms pure as the rain
Lovers stand warned of the worlds impending storm
Heavenly arms reach out to me
Sylvia
Sylvia
Sylvia
Sylvia
Ohhh-wohhh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Ooohhh-ooohhh-ooohhh-ooohhh-ooohhh, oh-woh-woh
Ooohhh-ooohhh-ooohhh-ooohhh, ohh-woh-woh
(heavenly arms reach out to hold me)
(sylvia, you mean so much to me)
(heavenly arms reach out to hold me)
(sylvia, you mean so much to me)
(heavenly arms reach out to hold me)
(sylvia, you mean so much to me)
(heavenly arms reach out to hold me)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Poetry There Is No Poverty
there is no poverty in poetry: it is a rich world
of flowers
and magic, of images that imaginations create
a warm sun
the deep blue sea, some mysteries of words
that come
and seemingly carry with them a bountry of meanings
liberation, oblation, jubilation
expression
birds coming out from our mouths
butterflies from our
stomachs
fireworks from our minds
in multicolors
to the darkest skies
of this earth
where can poverty
be
in a world of freedom: to say what you want to say
to think what you want to think
to dream
to imagine
to find meanings where others think there are none?
the secret garden
a path
a gate
a hiding place for all of us who still believe
about life
and aftelife and life after life
temporary deaths
and temporary losses
a jump a leap to the world beyond us
to eternity
we are meant
this i think is poetry and surely
there can never be
poverty
poem by Ayi Escalona
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Words Fight
words fighting
with life...
with out hands...
with out knife...
with wife...
words fighting
with any wear
on mouth
on paper
on news
on television
any wear
words are fighting
again and again
with enemy
with friend
with with out
bad...
or good...?
fighting too
fit with un fit...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Hell is a Fiction
I fear hell,
not death
Hell is a fiction
Created by hipocrites
Who felt
Others needed
Be controlled
By ideas as foolish
As religion
Hell is an illusion
No one ever
Lived to tell a tale of.
But I saw death
When the armed robber
Pointed at me
his instrument,
I saw death when
I narrolly escaped
The accident.
Show me another hell
If not here;
We suffer and die
In vanity.
While Christ
Rules in Heavenly.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Lines In Memory Of William Leggett
The earth may ring, from shore to shore,
With echoes of a glorious name,
But he, whose loss our tears deplore,
Has left behind him more than fame.
For when the death-frost came to lie
On Leggett's warm and mighty heart,
And quenched his bold and friendly eye,
His spirit did not all depart.
The words of fire that from his pen
Were flung upon the fervent page,
Still move, still shake the hearts of men,
Amid a cold and coward age.
His love of truth, too warm, too strong
For Hope or Fear to chain or chill,
His hate of tyranny and wrong,
Burn in the breasts he kindled still.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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A Question
AND so in the death-darkened chamber they met,
The woman that once he had loved and the one he loved yet—
The wife who had warped his desire and the woman he could not forget.
They stood by the bier where between them he slept,
And the love he had lost in his wife to her swimming eyes leapt;
But the woman his life had belonged to—his paramour—spoke not nor wept.
It was only a story of sated desire—
Of a love merely sensual burnt to an ash by its fire,
And a husband who turned to a more luscious love that was his for the hire.
All had sinned. For the husband had killed by his clutch,
Rough-handed, the fruit of a love that had dropped at his touch.
One woman's great sin was not loving, his wife's was in loving too much.
And so he had died; it was over at last;
And across him the two women looked at each other aghast—
Across his cold corse, and across the cold corse of the loathsome dead Past!
Then the smouldering love of the wife leapt to flame,
And she poured forth her kisses upon him, and called on his name.
But the other said “No, he is nothing to you; soul and body I claim!”
They looked at each other awhile. Said the wife wearily,
“He is mine; for I loved him, and ever shall love him; let be!”
But the other sneered, “No, he is mine, and mine only, because he loved me!”
Then the two laid their hands on the body between;
And fought for it, wife against paramour, fiercely, unseen—
For the body diseased and polluted, as ever his spirit had been.
And this is a question for answer in Hell:
To which of the two did his spirit belong, can you tell?
Think, was it the woman he loved, or the one who had loved him too well?
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Drunken Life
Drunken Life
I wake up on a Sunday Morning
To the sound of cars horning
Smelling of booze
And a particular ooze
No wash, no breakfast, no amount of food
Can put me in my desired frame of mood
All dressed
From yesterdays mess
I am ready to visit my favourite spot
This is where I once fought
A pub with loads of alcohol
Where I can stand up all mighty and tall
Six pints of lager
And I stagger
But hold on it is not yet over
For I am in Dover in my Rover
Prepared for a sleepover from any type of hangover
I am now boarding a ferry
As I am high and merry
To Calais a land of gold
For the old and bold so I am told
I am hoping to smuggle without a fine
6 cartons of cigarettes and 6 cartons of wine
This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk
6 shots of spirits
And I am ready to vomit
So I sit while I take out my kit
A special small emergency bucket
So I can pour out my juices like a rocket
People in the city
Look at me and feel pity
As I beg for change
What a shame at my age
I still want more
For this body is hardcore
This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk
With a bottle of beer in one hand
I wave it around like a magic wand
My head is spinning
I am no longer winning
I slumber to the street
My body has given up in defeat
This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk
I find myself waking up in a cell
Just as I dreamt that I fell
It is cold and freezing as hell
From my face you can easily tell
A policeman says to me
By the way I forgot to mention
Six more cautions
And you will spend the entire winter season
In one of the worst prisons
Please I say, I will not do it again
I may be stupid but I am definitely not insane
I am immediately released
As if infectiously diseased
Outside I think of some gin and tonic
And start to begin to feel quite erotic
Stop I say for today
I need to take a break
For my life is at stake
This is the life of a sadistic drunk
It’s quite a contrast from that of a monk
© Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Life is but a lesson...
At birth I was ripped from my warm safe place,
Yet now I fear death so I flee it with haste.
As a babe in my youth I yearned for more years,
But as time's passed me by it's age I now fear...
Into this world I was born and life gave me breath,
Now each path that I choose always leads to my death.
For both death and life are old inseperable friends,
My life's but a lesson just a means to an end...
If I live life to the fullest will time pass me by?
If I start asking questions will I ever know why?
Wisdom is gibberish and gibberish is clear,
What I most wanted once is now what I most fear...
When I want most to live will it be time to die?
I dont want life to end! Will that be my last cry?
I think death must be life and to leave is to stay,
So I pray hell is heaven when my life slips away...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Secret Agent Man
You know I live a life of danger
For the fbi
Keeping tabs on our nation
On the land, on the sea, in the sky
But every single night
Before I go to bed
I get down on my knees
And thank god
Im a secret agent man
* secret agent man
Secret agent man
Theyve given me a number
But theyve taken way my name
I got one hell of a job to perform
For the u. s. of a.
Got the responsibility
Of our nations top security
But every night and day
I salute the flag and say
Thank you jesus
Cause im, Im a secret agent man
( * repeat)
You know they got me doin this
Doin that
And a little bit of something else
Fighting cavities of evil
Safe-guarding americas health
But not an afternoon pass
I dont get up off my ass
Thank you god
Cause im, Im a secret agent man
( * repeat 2 times)
Cause Im a secret agent man
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Search
If I am allowed I'll write and think
and write and think some more.
For I finally realize now
what I was put here for.
To express to all who will find my words
the love I feel for you.
For you are a creature of God dear reader
and if you only knew
the purpose for our being here
is to grow in understanding,
To give up fear and greediness
so you may start expanding
the love you have for others,
not just your mother, father
sisters and brothers
but for all who are a part of you.
I know it's hard for we've been taught
from when we were very small
that anyone who doesn't look like you
can't be trusted at all.
And they've been taught the same of you
so what in the world do we do?
Continue on the same old path
that creates our living hell?
Or change the destiny for ourselves
and for them as well.
As for me, I've made my peace
as I sit and write these words.
I pray that you can do the same
and soar just like the birds.
And when you tire come back down,
down upon the ground.
Make your peace with all you see
for then you will have found
LOVE.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Death's Fears & Secrets (blank verse)
I have learnt some things about death recentl
this is what I have discovered
Death is a race, it is more then one being
It kills people everywhere everyday as it can't be everywhere
Unless it was more then one
Death is a secret, it is livings worst kept secret
For we are surrounded by death in life
Constantly we fear it, as it must fear us
Death has its fear, that is the end of everything
For when the universe is gone and nothing is left
Death end, and ceases to exist
Death plays its games, every few centuries or millenium
It lets us thrive to the point where we are too many
Then it kills us excessively in multiple ways
Death is merely us, though invisible
It wonders too, looking for something to do
While it wonder the universe
It has purpose
poem by Ethan Wilson
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Forbidden Fruit
all the forbidden fruit I ever
dreamt of--or was taught to
resist and fear--ripens and
blossoms under the palms of my
hands as they uncover and explore
you--and in the most secret
corners of my heart as it discovers
and adores you--the forbidden fruit
of forgiveness--the forbidden fruit
of finally feeling the happiness
you were afraid you didn't deserve--
the forbidden fruit of my life's labor
--the just payment I have avoided
since my father taught me how--
the forbidden fruit of the secret
language of our survivors' souls as
they unfold each others secret
ballots--the ones where we voted
for our first secret desires to come
true--there's so much more
I want to say to you--but for
the first time in my life I'm at
a loss for words--because
(I understand at last)
I don't need them
to be heard by you.
Submitted by Venus
poem by Michael Lally
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Death, My Dear Old Friend
Can you tell me
what it feels like,
to be afraid of death?
I do not know
what it's like
to fear death.
Death,
I am not scared.
Why should I be?
I am nothing
If I die
Nothing would change
NO tears would be shed
No one would care
No one would notice
So why should I fear death?
Others don't value my life
And I certainly don't
People think I'm happy!
They believe this mask I wear!
They believe all my bullsh*t!
I have no fear
Death is my friend!
And I welcome him with open arms!
So can you tell me
What is fear?
What is death?
Why should I fear death?
Why should I care?
Am I even important?
poem by David Zhukov
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