Sacrifice
Nothing has been occupying my minds,
I have all the requirements for them to be classed as two,
For I have double-vision as to the religion of my thought,
I am not guilty and I have no stigma,
Merely the goat has been slain by its owner
For the worn garment, and the delicious meat it endows.
What is century after century of sacrifice when a life has been
Rectified for all the days in it?
Why do we keep lunar years for these praises and festivals
When every year seemed to be carried?
Where is my food, O mother! Why does the goat hurt when it is dissected?
It is a child that speaks hostility and not a stranger can even desire this speech.
We can sacrifice all we want, when we want, and however we want
As long as rivers and oceans shall curve with water.
Water makes it abundantly clear, like the blood that wreaks from the neck
Of a dead goat. Always the sacrifice is made on this time in the calendar.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
Goat
Lots of goat for dinner
Is all had on a skewer,
My kingdom has survived,
The lids of your eyes
Are lifted and they see
The meat of the kings
In consumption.
Force the goat to be eaten
By converting the king
To your crevice.
Food has might,
Food is the whim of our land.
We ghosts are relaxed tonight,
From the worry of the horror,
Frightened again by the double,
Load the goat into the pot and eat.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Holiday meals
Here's a poem that will get your goat
But my goat ate my poem.
I'll get him for that
He ate all that i wrote.
I wrote such wounderous words
And all he does is burp
It's absurd.
Now all I can do
Is not let him get my goat
The words that I wrote
Were hastey and few
The goat that I had made such a great stew.
Sacrifice and Faith Are My Friends
Sacrifice and Faith are my friends!
From the very beginning,
They made their presence known!
I have shown them indifference,
On many occasions.
And we parted...
With Sacrifice being the more stubborn
When I rejected harsh criticsms,
I was not prepared to face!
As I grew to find how true they were.
How I created them and made them to occur!
Sometimes Sacrifice had me on the floor,
With Doubt!
And Doubt and I had bouts...all the time!
That's why Doubt is not a close friend of mine!
Sometimes Sacrifice made me aware...
If I was going to do anything worthy...
'It' was going to be there to insure
I had enough endurance
Not to give up!
Sacrifice was there to make sure
I knew 'It' was where I cared most!
Even though most of those times,
Tomorrow was much delayed!
I'd pray with fears as tears rolled...
To swell into rivers of complacency!
Sacrifice knew that was not me,
Fixed on my knees pleading.
Sacrifice often would connect me with Faith...
When I turned my back on Faith many a day!
I'm so glad Faith allowed my tantrums.
'It' knew I was being a misunderstood child,
When Faith would come and enfold me
With security and comfort.
That would sit with me a while!
Letting my time with Sacrifice...
Be discussed with Faith and understood!
And Faith would bring me to my senses.
Like only Faith knew...and could!
They were never the ones with the conflict at all.
I had to identify them on their own merit.
I had to discover 'Me' and who they were.
It has difficult but I now realize...
Without Sacrifice and Faith,
I would never have found Happiness!
And that is what they have been wanting for me,
All this time!
Inspred by:
Trevor Foster, Owner
TRU BOOKS/CAFÉ
Hartford, Connecticut
'Thank you, Trevor'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Goat Hill
Goat Hill
Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son
poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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Sacrifice Yourself
Some days he feels so empty
Just a talking head
Married to a klingon
Who could cream him in the press
God could detonate him
Gods the one we pick to curse us
And 25 years pass him
Like an evening at the circus
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Surprise yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
There it is, the look, the winner you
Once talked of being
Give her one last kiss and
Dive right out the window screaming
No truth decent, it was summer from the waist down
She blew the troops right off your feet
She tells you shes gods grammy
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Surprise yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Dont sacrifice yourself
Her, the only game in town, a queen of competence
Blind in front of mirrors, proving nothings says a lot
Wham bam thank you charlie
Vanity is all
You wander lonely to the scene
A crawling up the walls
Dont sacrifice yourself
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)
It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
and everyone was amazed to see,
an upside down goat
drinking a bottle of scotch whiskey.
The goat drank all day
and it drank all night.
The lights went out
and the old goat went to sleep.
He dreamed of himself
floating out the door
and all the way to heaven,
but when he got there,
St Peter wouldn’t let him in.
He said God will not tolerate
any drunken old goats here,
so you had better go back
and sleep it off, Billy.
Then put up a sign on the door.
No drunken old goats allowed,
signed by you know who.
You could always try
beneath the basement floor
he’ll greet you with a smile
and a shovel,
even make you hot and warm.
The moral of this story
whether you’re a goat or a man.
Don’t drink too much;
you could end up
jumping from the frying pan
and straight into the fire,
the one that they keep burning
permanently beneath the basement floor.
poem by David Harris
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An Arab Shepherd Is Searching For His Goat On Mount Zion
An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion
And on the opposite hill I am searching for my little boy.
An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father
Both in their temporary failure.
Our two voices met above
The Sultan's Pool in the valley between us.
Neither of us wants the boy or the goat
To get caught in the wheels
Of the "Had Gadya" machine.
Afterward we found them among the bushes,
And our voices came back inside us
Laughing and crying.
Searching for a goat or for a child has always been
The beginning of a new religion in these mountains.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Purled and Plain
A century ago or more,
a ship was wrecked in seas remote
and ‘mid the flotsam cast ashore
on limestone coast, was boy and goat.
On windswept isle of grass and scrub,
the goat was free from ship's confine,
The boy used frantic hands to grub
the remnants spat from sated brine.
Some bags of wheat, a box of tools,
he dug from sand to grant relief,
Though most the bounty lay in pools,
unreachable on distant reef.
He supplemented meagre fare
with bitter berries plucked from shrub,
And mutton birds entrapped with snare
were baked on fire, sparked by rub.
He ground the wheat to make a flour
and over stones, the dough was spread.
The fragrance drifted by the hour
and goat was drawn by fresh baked bread.
He only sought companionship
and never planned to eat the goat,
With winter's ‘proaching icy whip
he knew he'd need a cashmere coat.
Goat's lower jaw slid side to side
and yellow eyes had black slit stare,
With shears from toolbox opened wide
the boy slow clipped its shaggy hair.
It took him weeks to hand spin yarn
and fashion knitting pins from wood,
And further weeks to stitch and darn
the front to back with sleeves and hood.
The goat made charge as show of scorn
with flying hooves and lowered head,
The boy made threat to cut its horns
for buttons, but used wood instead.
The goat grew back its hair twice thick
as winter seized with frigid grip,
The boy donned coat and buttoned quick
when out of blue, appeared a ship.
The boy was saved but goat remained
a taste of freedom in its blood,
The boy looked back as vision waned,
the goat stood, placid, chewing cud.
The boy became a man of lore
who crafted tales and ably wrote,
And kept in some forgotten drawer
a wooden-buttoned goat hair coat.
poem by Diane Hine
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What for? If only the goat can tell.
O! The silly goat could have been a dove
White and meek
Soundless in the journey to air
Dove to another dove
Satisfied from among its likes
The horns could have been feathers
In a bird’s body
Another completing dove could have waited
Only if the silly goat knew
The transfiguration of its feet to claw
Its whiskers to beak
The goat’s life would have been complete
And fulfilled
But this the silly goat will never know
& learn and untie
& solve the crazy knot
That it has never untangled
Never has he learned from all the ages
Of his grass life
The seeds that the dove peck
And keep on its throat down to its guts
Its tummy
The goat stays
In the open field
Preoccupied with grass
And grass alone
Abiding by the rules of his master
Imprisoned in its cage
To the rules of their games
Suffering
But never understands the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hard Lines, Sunken Cheeks
As a child I was given the gift to entertain you.
But through blood I inherited a life that could destroy you.
I drink all day. I smoke all day. Ive done it all but tap
The vein.
These hard lines and sunken cheeks are text book reasons
All these christians come alive and try to sell you
My soul for a goat, yet Ill outlive the old.
You know its bad, some may say sad, a hangover is
Inspiration. like a junkie I hurt for it. a bad trip, the
Emptiness. I never sleep, or always sleep a lack of
Fulfillment to me is me. the big picture.
These hard lines and sunken cheeks are part of
What the christians mean to immortalize my situation.
My soul for a goat. yet Ill outlive the old.
Embrace some religion. to get close to some
Undivine ejaculation point.
Simply to thy ghost I cling.
Simply to thy ghost I reject.
Simply to thy ghost I give spit.
Tempter, tempting, tempt me. molest me. you know that ill
Submit. for this is my weakness and it saves me from relationships
With those christians. you know theyll sell you my soul
For a goat. yet Ill outlive the old.
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning Down
]from the back of my neck, oh oh oh
Wired a glass jaw, oh oh
Plantation burning your boat is coming in
Strum your jews-harp, youre reeking gin
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Johnny mike is reading in the yard
His storys timely, oh oh oh
What river is it anyway, radio
Not in a boat, in your ear
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
You pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Hes cooking in the woods, a brush fire in your neck
Feeling mighty mighty, oh oh oh
You can pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sacrifice Of Victor
What is sacrifice?
(we s... we s... we s... we sacrifice)
Npg in mass attack, sonny, please.
(we sacrifice)
Church if u will, please turn 2 the book of victor (we s, we s)
We like 2 start at the top if u dont mind
(we sacrifice)
(dont say it, preacher)
I was born on a blood stained table
Cord wrapped around my neck
Epilectic til the age of 7
I was sure heaven marked the deck
(we sacrifice)
I know joy lives round the corner
{joy for sale down on the corner} (we sacrifice)
One day Ill visit her Im gonna
{out on my block Im just a loner} (we sacrifice)
When she tell me everything {tell me}
Thats when the angels sing {sacrifice}
Thats when the victory is sho nuff {sho nuff down with the sacrifice}
(we sacrifice)
(help me)
(dont say it, preacher)
Mama held up her baby 4 protection
From a man with a strap in his hand
Ask the victor bout pain and rejection
U think he dont when he do understand
(we sacrifice)
I know joy lives round the corner
{joy for sale down on the corner} (we sacrifice)
One day Ill visit her Im gonna
{out on my block Im just a loner} (we sacrifice)
When she tell me everything {tell me}
Thats when the angels sing {sacrifice}
Thats when the victory is sho nuff {sho nuff down with the sacrifice}
(we sacrifice)
(help me)
{s.a.c.r.i.f.i.c.e}
(we-we-we sacrifice)
(dont say it preacher)
(sac-sacrifice)
(we-we-we sacrifice)
(we-we-we sacrifice)
(sacrifice... if u turn the page)
(dont say it, preacher)
1967 in a bus marked public schools
Rode me and a group of unsuspecting political tools
Our parents wondered what it was like 2 have another color near
So they put their babies together 2 eliminate the fear
We sacrifice yes we did
Fighting one another, (we sacrifice) (dont say it preacher)
All because of color
The angel of hate - she taught me how 2 kick her
If she called me anything but victor (u mean like nigger? )
If the only thing that tells me is father time
Then sacrifice is the mutha sublime - we love it
Listen mutha - we sacrifice
(dont... dont... dont say it preacher)
(we sacrifice)
(well, well, well, well)
(what is sacrifice? )
Hold yo text, deacon
Never understood my old friends laughing
They got high when everything else got wrong (pass the booze up here)
Dr. king was killed and the streets
They started burnin
When the smoke was cleared, their high was gone
Education got important, so important 2 victor
A little more important than ripple and weed
Bernadettes a lady, and she told me (what she say? )
Whatever u do son, a little discipline is what u need,
Is what u need, u need to sacrifice
(we sacrifice)
I know joy lives round the corner
{joy for sale down on the corner} (we sacrifice)
One day Ill visit her Im gonna
{out on my block Im just a loner} (we sacrifice)
When she tell me everything {tell me}
Thats when the angels sing {sacrifice}
Thats when the victory is sho nuff {sho nuff down with the sacrifice}
(we sacrifice)
(what is sacrifice? )
(we sacrifice)
{s.a.c.r.i.f.i.c.e}
(we sacrifice) (joy around the corner)
Hey wendy, how come we... (we sacrifice)
scuse me yall (we sacrifice)
We dont dont mean 2 take up yo time (joy around the corner)
But we got something
Heavy on our minds (we sacrifice)
Yes, we do (we sacrifice)
Sometimes, u gotta leave the one u love
Somebody, anybody, everybody wave your hand
Around the corner, theres another sacrifice (joy around the corner)
But u got 2 do the best u can yall (we sacrifice)
Say u got 2 go through it (go through it)
U got 2 go through it all (go through it all)
High glory, yeah
Sell it, dont tell it, dont tell me (joy around the corner)
[.....] nice at my feet
Lord I might get tired,
But i, Ive got 2 keep on (we sacrifice)
Walkin down this road, (we sacrifice)
Keep on walkin down this road (joy around the corner)
When I reach my destination (we sacrifice)
My name will be victor
Amen
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Language
Wanted to wear the grief uncrying,
sitting on the bank, counting the waves,
watching the swaying of earthen lamps.
There was a little water on the moon,
charged atoms settling in the lap of a sponge.
The water becomes the moon,
floating on goat’s milk.
My descent starts to find the truth.
Where the water has gone from the eyes?
The mirrors always tell the lie.
The headless body writhes in the dust,
words change the author of a murder.
A crowd finds a knife only.
Once again a century weeps!
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Burnt Offerings
In one last breath
You'll feel this damned old soul
You'll see the things I see
For all these years
Of pain and sacrifice
You'll know the pain I know
Of all these things
I offer unto you
Infernal wisdom waits
Now unleashed
Like the flames of hate
My sacrifice is made
Every note
And every word you hear
Comes from deep within
An angry soul
That twists and turns inside
Pondering this life
Crimson eyes
Staring through your lies
Awakes the inner rage
Take my knife
Make my sacrifice
You┬╣re my burnt offering
Spill your blood
Offer me good omen
Make the sacrifice
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The sacrifice which causes sorrow to the doer of the sacrifice is no sacrifice. Real sacrifice lightens the mind of the doer and gives him a sense of peace and joy. The Buddha gave up the pleasures of life because they had become painful to him.
quote by Mahatma Gandhi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice! That's the condition of the female. Women have been conditioned to sacrifice for centuries.
quote by Betty Dodson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homonym
Don’t you agree with my ability
to loosen up on our times in no night?
A river thing was flowing
through foliaged silence.
In deranged hour of the
neck tie, you throw up obscenity
on road. What? Chicken hearted?
Sickle cell anemia?
Goat rioting before sacrifice: -
the tiny feet will dropp from heaven
to walk in blood and bless you
for dispatching the head of unlove.
The night hawk butchers the hope,
if the baby owl cries again. Afraid,
I am going to take a flight
to yellowing moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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The more the billy goat stinks, the more the nanny goat loves him.
Do not try to cook the goat's young in the goat's milk.
A man and a goat can be friends but it would be foolishness for the goat to pay the first visit.