Listen...
There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent shout
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, “Let me out!”
That solitary prisoner
Will never hear reply.
No comrade in eternity
Can hear the frantic cry.
No heart can share the terror
That haunts his monstrous dark.
The light that filters through the chinks
No other eye can mark.
When flesh is linked with eager flesh,
And words run warm and full,
I think that he is loneliest then,
The captive in the skull.
Caught in a mesh of living veins,
In cell of padded bone,
He loneliest is when he pretends
That he is not alone.
We’d free the incarcerate race of man
That such a doom endures
Could only you unlock my skull,
Or I creep into yours.
poem by Ogden Nash
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Climbing Up The Walls (Zero 7 Mix)
I am the key to the lock in your house
that keeps your toys in the basement,
and if you get too far inside
you'll only see my reflection.
See her face when she sleeps tonight,
I am the pick in the ice,
do not cry out or hit the alarm,
we are we're friends till we die.
And either way you turn I'll be there,
open up your skull, I'll be there
climbing up the walls.
It's always best when the light is off,
it's always better on the outside,
in the crack of your wanting smile,
fifteen blows to the skull.
So tuck the kids in safe tonight,
and shut the eyes in the cupboard.
do not cry out or hit the alarm,
you'll get the loneliest feeling
that either way you turn I'll be there,
open up your skull, I'll be there
climbing up the walls.
Climbing up the walls.
Climbing up the walls
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skull Ring
(feat. The Stooges)
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
The touch of a hand in the wasteland
you're walking asleep and dreaming cheap
A bird's wing don't beat for free
You're freezing cold and your family
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
Fingers on fire to do what's bad
Ring on the finger is a skull man
Strong as a bar of steel
Weakness is that you can't feel
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
My life is dirtied, my mind is loaded
I'm feeling and breathing and fighting
To see
People get ready now
Baby come on give your heart to me
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunger For The Flesh
Spare a thought for the souls
Who cannot leave this earth
The attachments bind so tightly, not a chance
Not a chance of a new birth
The river gently beckons
But the answer is no
Gripping their illusions
They cannot let them go
Hunger for the flesh
Leads them to a weaker heart
Mortals who imprisoned themselves
Let them have a new start
Wishing to hold onto life and all its games
Singing their lament song
Holding back the change
They came here for to dance
To learn and not to cling
Holding onto life
As if it were the important thing
Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Caught up for eternity
Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Caught up for eternity
The river gently beckons
But the answer is no
Gripping their illusions
They cannot let them go
Hunger for the flesh
Leads them to a weaker heart
Mortals who imprison themselves
Let them have a new start
Let them have a new start
Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Caught up for eternity
Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Holding back the change
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you're an archaeologist, I bet it's real embarrassing to put together a skull from a bunch of ancient bone fragments, but then it turns out it's not a skull but just an old dried-out potato.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rum & Red Bull (being a day after her birthday poem)
Out of our skull
on Rum & Red Bull
we play football
with a grinning
plastic skull
(retrieved from a skip)
using the Momento Mori
for a drunken kickabout.
You dribble
& drool it.
You shoot
I save it
tipping it over
an imaginary crossbar.
Spectacular!
I bathe
in an imaginary roar.
I clutch
the skull
to my chest
begin to spout:
'Toby
(or not)
Toby
... that is the jug! '
'Oi...! ' you shout
'Me Lord Hamlet
...over here
on de head! '
I dropp kick
the skull
(grinning still)
in your general
direction.
I can see
two of you
& don't know who
to pass it too.
You rise
beautifully to
the occasion
losing a stiletto
in the process
your body arched
like a sublime salmon
jumping
upstream
you head the skull home
past my groping outstretched fingertips
'GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLGOALL LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL! '
you scream
your blouse
over your head
in exultant
celebration.
A 'Now then...now then' police man
confiscates our skull.
Tells us
to bugger off.
'Awwww Ref! '
we argue but
he ain't
having any of it.
Hanging on
to each other
you ululating.
We stagger
down the street
look back
to see
P.C. Plod
miskick the skull
through someone's sleeping
window
crashtinkletinkle.
We wonder if
he'll have to
arrest
himself.
We scarper
in case he tries
to blame it
on innocent us.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Saturday Night (Is The Loneliest Night In The Week)
Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
'Cause that's the night that my sweetie and I
Used to dance cheek to cheek
I don't mind Sunday night at all
'Cause that's the night friends come to call
And Monday to Fridays go fast
And another week is past
But Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
I sing the song that I sang for the memories I usually seek
Until I hear you at the door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
I sing a lonely song
And everything seems wrong
You know saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
And I sing a song for the memories I usually seek
Until I hear you nocking at my door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night
Saturday night is the doggone lonelest night in the week
Until I hear you at the door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Shell
A SHELL
a big shell
on a warm sand shelf
building long and strong
out at last kept out.
TIME to decide
what's inside
for inside meditation
for contemplation.
Any answers?
A SKULL
a big skull
with a warm snug self
building long and strong
to keep out out.
EYE, ear and brain
drag it all in again,
sense saturation.
NEVER alone.
No time to take advantage
of the bone.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Redundant.
.
The skull that grins upon my desk
I picked up at a car boot sale
Although my taste me seen grotesque.
The skull reminds me without fail.
As he is now so will I be.
In time to come I too must die
I don't suppose he thought that he.
Would end up as a bargain buy.
When I am dead my skull may be.
An ornament that's on display.
On someone's desk quite possibly
What does it matter anyway.
Though it was mine it is not me.
It never was nor will it be.
Saturday,08 September 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Skull Of Life
against the backdrop
of an evening
light
lies the skull of
a busy life
in the morning some gnats
put on the dress of flesh
in the helplessness of the
veins
the rain water shakes its
locks of hair
a butterfly comes here once
in a while
as an inspiration of the
poetess
meanwhile the rivers sings a song
of a triumphant
arrival to the sea to the sea to the sea
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hornets
How strangely like a churchyard skull
The thing that's there amongst the leaves!
A Hornets' nest; but stir the branch
And they'll be round your head and ears!
So wary ana so weaponed,
How do they not possess the wold?
Their lives a watch, their act a doom,
Of their own terrors they must die!
Livid, uneyed, articulate,
How like a skull their nest they make!
poem by Padraic Colum
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The Immortal Part
When I meet the morning beam,
Or lay me down at night to dream,
I hear my bones within me say,
"Another night, another day.
"When shall this slough of sense be cast,
This dust of thoughts be laid at last,
The man of flesh and soul be slain
And the man of bone remain?
"This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout,
These thews that hustle us about,
This brain that fills the skull with schemes,
And its humming hive of dreams,--
"These to-day are proud in power
And lord it in their little hour:
The immortal bones obey control
Of dying flesh and dying soul.
"'Tis long till eve and morn are gone:
Slow the endless night comes on,
And late to fulness grows the birth
That shall last as long as earth.
"Wanderers eastward, wanderers west,
Know you why you cannot rest?
'Tis that every mother's son
Travails with a skeleton.
"Lie down in the bed of dust;
Bear the fruit that bear you must;
Bring the eternal seed to light,
And morn is all the same as night.
"Rest you so from trouble sore,
Fear the heat o' the sun no more,
Nor the snowing winter wild,
Now you labour not with child.
"Empty vessel, garment cast,
We that wore you long shall last.
--Another night, another day."
So my bones within me say.
Therefore they shall do my will
To-day while I am master still,
And flesh and soul, now both are strong,
Shall hale the sullen slaves along,
Before this fire of sense decay,
This smoke of thought blow clean away,
And leave with ancient night alone
The stedfast and enduring bone.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Turn Around
I was working all night in my office
When a man I had recently killed
Called me up from a phone near my building
So I looked out the window at him
He had the same obsequious manner
That was the reason I had him killed
So to calm my nerves I sang this song
To him, over the phone
Turn around, turn around
Theres a thing there that can be found
Turn around, turn around
Its a human skull on the ground
Human skull on the ground
Turn around
I was out by myself in the graveyard
I was doing an interpretive dance
When I felt something heavy and pointed
Strike me in the back of the neck
And then the ghost of my dance instructor
Pushed me down into an open grave
And as dirt rained down she played a xylophone
And sang me this song
Turn around, turn around
Theres a thing there that can be found
Turn around, turn around
Its a human skull on the ground
Human skull on the ground
Turn around
We were waving our arms out the window
Of a fast moving passenger train
Acting in an irresponsible fashion
Until the engineer whose back had been turned
And who we thought would find us highly amusing
Quickly swiveled his head around
And his face which was a paper-white mask of evil
Sang us this song
Turn around, (round) turn around (round)
Theres a thing there that can be found (theres a thing there that can be)
Turn around, (found) turn around (round)
Its a human skull on the ground (its a human skull on the)
Human skull (ground) on the ground (round)
Turn around (turn around, turn around)
Turn around, (round) turn around (round)
Theres a thing there that can be found (theres a thing there that can be)
Turn around, (found) turn around (round)
Its a human skull on the ground (its a human skull on the)
Human skull (ground) on the ground (round)
Turn around (turn around, turn around)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One
One is the loneliest number that youll ever do
Two can be as bad as one, its the loneliest number since the number one
No is the saddest experience youll ever know
Yes is the saddest experience youll ever know
Cause one is the loneliest number that youll ever know
One is the loneliest number even worst then two
Yeah
Its just no good anymore since you went away
Now I spend my time just making up rhymes of yesterday
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
Since you went away
Since you went away
(one is the loneliest number since youve gone away)
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
Since youve gone away
Its just no good anymore since you went away
Now I spend my time just making up rhymes of yesterday
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
Since you went away
Since you went away
song performed by by Filter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canada
England, father and mother in one,
Look on your stalwart son.
Sturdy and strong, with the valour of youth,
Where is another so lusty?
Coated and mailed, with the armour of truth,
Where is another so trusty?
Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
He is yours alone.
England, father and mother in one,
See the wealth of your son.
Forests primeval, and virginal sod,
Wheat-fields golden and splendid:
Riches of nature and opulent God
For the use of his children intended.
A courage that dares, and a hope that endures,
And a soul all yours.
England, father and mother in one,
Hear the cry of your son.
Little cares he for the glories of earth
Lying around and above him,
Yearning is he for the rights of his birth,
And the heart of his mother to love him.
Vast are your gifts to him, ample his store,
Now open your door.
England, father and mother in one,
Heed the voice of your son.
Proffer him place in your councils of state:
Let him sit near, and attend you.
Ponder his words in the hour of debate,
Strong is his arm to defend you.
Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
Give him his own.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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First Clown: A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.
line from Hamlet, Act V, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Who Desecrated Geronimo’s Grave?
“elected politicians
government by the people
for the people?
which people? ”
free and equal
representation of the people?
go tell that to Native
Americans
see if they believe?
or African Americans
who had their votes
discounted so bonesman
Bush could steal Florida
steal the White House?
'crooking' America
Skull and Bones 322
stealers of the skull of eighth
President Martin Van Buren?
Skull and Bones 322
stealers of the skull of Pancho Villa
Mexican Revolutionary general?
Trivial pursuit
which American President’s
father and grandfather
desecrated Geronimo’s grave?
A clue? A clue?
Geronimo’s bones were supposedly
stolen by Skull and Bones members
'crooking' from Fort Sill Oklahoma.
A clue? A clue?
An anonymous letter with a photograph
and a copy of a log book claiming;
Skull & Bones stole Geronimo’s skull was sent
in 1986 to who? To who? Ned Anderson
former San Carlos Apache Chairman.
Skull & Bones officials, and group's attorney,
Endicott P. Davidson, denied S&B held
the skull, claiming the 1918 ledger a hoax.
In 2006 a 1918 letter from Skull & Bones
member Winter Mead to member F. Trubee
Davison claimed the theft was 'exhumed';
from Fort Sill by club 322 and Geronimo’s
skull was 'safe' in the club's headquarters.
The Facts: When and Where?
Six members of Yale secret society
Skull and Bones, including Prescott Bush;
were serving as Army volunteers at Fort Sill.
During World War I these six bonesmen
allegedly stole Geronimo's skull, femurs
and other bones; Geronimo's prized silver
bridle and saddle horn; buried in his grave!
Desecrated in the Apache Indian Prisoner
of War Cemetery at Fort Sill, Oklahoma!
Is it true? Is it true?
William Ramsey Clark former
United States Attorney General
filed a lawsuit in 2009 on behalf
of some of Geronimo's descendants!
Against, Barack Obama, Robert Gates,
and Skull and Bones, requesting
the return of Geronimo's bones!
Robert Gates still serves
as Secretary of Defense
in President Barack Obama's cabinet!
Was Barack Obama the first Black
bonesman or were there others?
From which dark secret society?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In the White
In the white, early morning
I hang my face
over her head
and kiss the flesh above her brow.
I hang my neck, a bow in the air
and kiss the tiny, tickling hairs above her brow.
In the white light of morning
I hang myself over her
and kiss the flesh of her skull
Her white skull
sleeps in the early morning as I hang myself
to kiss her.
I hang myself to kiss her
as she sleeps in the white, early morning.
She does not wake to my touch.
I hang myself above her
on the white bow
of early morning.
She does not wake to my hanging.
The window is cracked and taped.
The outside air is cold, forceful.
I bend myself
above her sleeping body
to kiss her, gently on the brow.
To kiss her gently on the brow
I hang myself.
poem by Chavisa Woods
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The Cellar
I’ve been a prisoner in this smelly unlit cellar for three days now,
I’ve got to try and find a way out, but I don’t know how.
With nothing to eat or drink since I was thrown into this place
I’m beginning to see weird things that are not common place.
My foot keeps being touched and I think it might be a rat,
and right now a rat could be a meal, and I could go for that.
If it touches me again I’ll try and catch it, and bite off its head;
what am I thinking about I couldn’t eat a rat, I’d rather be dead.
I’ve got to eat or drink something before I go completely mad
and when I think more about it, that rat doesn’t seem so bad.
I can see large silver coloured spiders crawling up the wall,
I’ll see if I can catch one... Damn it! I’m much too small.
Let’s face it I’m going to die in this damp, darker than night cellar,
all because of my lust for a woman, and her psychotic fella.
She teased and seduced me, and her boyfriend wasn’t too pleased,
when he entered the room and caught us at it, with me on my knees.
He must have hit my head really hard to have knocked me out,
and now I’m in this cellar where no one can hear me shout.
What happened to his gorgeous girl friend I just don’t know,
maybe they rode off into the night after leaving me so?
I’m sick of just sitting here; I’ll hunt for that rat around the floor,
maybe I’ll get lucky and find it, or something else to gnaw.
Oh my God! I can feel something lying by the side of the wall..,
I reckon it’s the girl; she’s stone cold, and been tied up in a ball.
I can feel deep into her skull and she’s still tacky with blood.
If I’m to survive I may have to eat her… No! I never could..,
but if I don’t I will die of starvation.., a slow agonising death...
I can smell her blood on my fingers, and taste it on my breath.
I feel ashamed having to eat raw human flesh to stay alive,
but I would feel worse if people knew, and I didn’t die.
I can hear that rat gnawing away on the guy’s dead girlfriend.
Will I be the rat’s last meal..? Is that how it all will end?
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Buddha in the Womb
Bobbing in the waters of the womb,
little godhead, ten toes, ten fingers
& infinite hope,
sails upside down through the world.
My bones, I know, are only a cage
for death.
Meditating, I can see my skull,
a death's head,
lit from within
by candles
which are possibly the suns
of other galaxies.
I know that death
is a movement toward light,
a happy dream
from which you are loath to awaken,
a lover left
in a country
to which you have no visa,
& I know that the horses of the spirit
are galloping, galloping, galloping
out of time
& into the moment called NOW.
Why then do I care
for this upside-down Buddha
bobbling through the world,
his toes, his fingers
alive with blood
that will only sing & die.
There is a light in my skull
& a light in his.
We meditate on our bones only
to let them blow away
with fewer regrets.
Flesh is merely a lesson.
We learn it
& pass on.
poem by Erica Jong
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Expressionless
A silent war with oneself
devouring all the cells,
the gory remains of words
and grainy kisses of tears.
A curved hook in the mouth
to start a prayer for the freedom
from whispers of brand and labels:
liberation from the weight of testaments.
Bruised glints from the flesh dripping,
wriggle on serene rocks of resolution,
before the sin was discovered. A poem
was awarded to me for excitement.
An eye and a mirror, a gulch and a stone.
The smiles are fatal, the blood is pure.
Hot sun bakes the sand, nudges the
skull and a pal of gloom settles for eternity.
poem by Satish Verma
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