Vale Do Rico Homem
Vale Do Rico Homem
A strange place, houses are as big as castles
tall forbidding wall on top, broken glass set
in cement; gates that can withstand a tank.
A lush valley, but no bird songs, presumable
the occupants of this scary place want peace.
I sat on my scooter for an hour in the hope of
casting a glimpse of the people inside, but no.
each palace was like little islets cut off from
the world, here they need no one and live in
splendid isolation. But just as I was to leave
a black hearse pulled up outside a gate that
slowly glided open- even the rich must die.-
Prisoners of wealth, I ought to take one of them
out one day, so he can see a bit of real life
before the somber hearse arrives.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Future Imperfect
Beneath a gray and weeping sky
I watched a horse drawn hearse go by
A sight we very rarely see
It seems to have more dignity
Than any slowly driven limousine
Two horses black as ebony
A well matched pair walk sedately
Almost as if the horses know
The must put on a finer show
Than any slowly driven limousine
The hearse itself is gleaming black
With etched glass windows in the back
Through which it’s possible to see
The coffin more respectfully
Than any slowly driven limousine
The cortege as it passes by
Is guaranteed to catch the eye
It is a sight that seemingly
Most people would prefer to see
Than any slowly driven limousine
Though fashions change there is a cost
The sense of dignity is lost
Although I’m sure they do their best
Nothing attracts less interest
Than any slowly driven limousine
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Hi There, Outside World
Hi there, Outside world,
It's been a while, you see.
I've missed you lots, and tons, and much,
And we all know you've missed me.
Hi there, Outside world,
Come inside and stay a while,
No one will know where you've gone,
In here, from the world, so vile.
Hi there, Outside world,
Aren't you curious where I've been?
Don't you want to know everything,
Like why, and how, and when?
Hi there, Outside world,
It's much better inside of doors,
No noises, or sickness, or hate, or death,
Here there's only peace, no wars.
Hi there, Outside world,
Wouldn't you love to get away?
Just leave them there, Forget they care,
Just come inside and stay.
Hi there, Outside world,
We can be friends, just you and me,
We can sing, and dance, and talk,
And for once, we'll both be free.
Hi there, Outside world,
That world is a scary place,
Wouldn't you rather a nice warm house,
Where evil leaves no trace?
Hi there, Outside world,
Come live with me, my dear,
You'll never go another day,
While cowering in fear.
Hi there, Outside world,
Please don't ask to leave,
I need someone to stay with me,
It's lonely, you'll believe.
Wait, Outside world,
I can convince you, you'll see,
Just stay here for evermore,
Leave those people be.
Outside world, I need your help,
Don't leave me here to die,
It's sad, and I feel alone,
In my spare time, I cry.
What's that you say, Outside world?
Leave my house of sadness?
Go with you to your outside place?
My word, now that's just madness!
Listen here, Outside world,
I'm never welcome back,
I've left there once, and can't return,
Of that, I'm sure as fact.
Silly little Outside world,
You say I'm missed a lot,
How could that be, Outside world,
If I've never been sought.
I see all, Outside world,
And I know they do not want me,
I'd rather stay here, in my mind,
Than live amongst the happy.
I fear I can't, Outside world,
This house is all I need,
I know it's meager, and so dark,
But, I must live my creed.
I swore an oath, Outside world,
That I should live in here for ever,
Never leave, Never be,
With or without endeavor.
I keep my word, Outside world,
This place is where I stay,
I never can go back, you see,
I've gone too far away.
Goodbye, Outside world,
I really enjoyed our chat,
I'm sorry to hear you have to go,
Devastated, at that.
So long, Outside world,
If I never see you again,
Tell the world what happened here,
Don't let it happen to them.
poem by K.N. Sheldon
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Beginning and End (Again)
faded lines, greying hair,
life spillt from a cup.
even stars fall down,
nothing ever falls up!
world changes, still the same,
or maybe getting worse.
vanity of vanities
riding in a hearse.
and the truth kills the lie
with a savage swing.
but there's a place
inside our dreams....
a door only time can open,
a peace beyond all our hoping.
where beginning and end begin again.
the home of lightning and howling wind!
faith burned, anger earned,
fists against the wall.
you cant see what can be
when you cant hear the call.
the house you built, the spirit killed,
the love that in the end devours.
when seconds turn into lifetimes
in your final hours.
and the truth kills the lie
with a savage swing.
but there's a place
inside our dreams...
a door only time can open,
a peace beyond all our hoping.
where beginning and end begin again.
the home of lightning and howling wind.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sigillum Diaboli
I cant see as Im facing your pityful lies
Dont have the strength to carry your heavy load of life
Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh
I cant see through your eyes, bring your tears on me
I will leave the body for your shoulder you just have to killing
Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Just as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
So Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
So Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh, so youve come from above
And you say you want to
And I kill myself for your love
Im killing myself for you, yes you
I cant see as I face your pityful lies
Dont have the strength to carry your heavy load of life
Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Yes you do
Yes you do, my darling
Yes you do..oh
Yes you do, oh my love
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sans People
Will you let me have a glimpse of people?
People on the streets? People sauntering by, people smiling.
People intending to take a right turn,
Suddenly changed the mind and took to the left.
People across the meadows,
Past the shops, cinemas, theatres, Opera houses,
People racing down, people in the cars, bus, tram, train.
How I wish to have a glimpse of them, the procession of people!
Will you let me have a glimpse of them-
Men, women and children in the houses?
Am I to live only with the fluky glimpse of a strip of cloud
Or the streak of sun, penetrating through the chinks of my window?
People, they said are barred out,
I've to live the rest of my life sans people.
poem by Taslima Nasrin
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My Safe Place
Drawings of seventy three people,
A map of the place where they all live,
I am amongst these people, and
I can hear them in conversation,
Although nobody who lives outside of this room can-
I have given this place a name- a self-fabricated name-
I have found happiness here
Within this world I call my own.
This is my safe place-
This place where skies are touched with clouds of pink and gray,
This place where all is quiet, except for the rushing sound
Of the clear water in the creek that runs through.
Here in this place where nobody cares
What time of day people go to sleep or what hour that they awaken-
This is the place where nobody ever gets angry or slights one another-
Here where we dance when it rains and
Where we laugh when the sun is shining over that creek,
But the sun never burns us.
I have locked the silver gate that exits to the world outside,
So that untrustworthy and belligerent people cannot enter-
This is what I have called my safe place, although
Some say it is dangerous in some sort of way.
Some say that it is dangerous to deny what is real, and
To live in a self formulated world,
Ignoring the lives of three billion people,
Feeling no empathy for those in pain and those fighting in wars out there-
While listening to voices that only I can hear or those I care to hear.
I feel that that world has not been kind to me and
There is so much out there that I fear and it is with great irony
That people are so fearful of my own unfamiliarity- although
To me people who live in this great earth outside of my safe place
Are just as foreign to me as I am to them- I must say that
If I were to continuously wear the key to that silver gate about my neck-
Keeping myself safe here amongst my made up community, I can
Live in my world and others live in theirs and we won't have to fear one another- as
Unfamiliarity is synonymous with danger to so many people.
The sun shall shine upon both places and everyone shall be safe, and
Nobody- not myself, my own special friends or
Those living in the world outside of here
Shall ever get burned…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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A Secret Place
Between life and death
There's another path
Some of us choose to live there
Away from life there's another place for broken hearts
A secret place that helps tired souls to find the peace within their selves
Thoughts and regrets all meet there
The place where I open the gate to meet the present with past
Away from crowd near to the God not dead or alive
The secret place its the loneliness to meet ourselves
Away from lovers aches
But with the memories no way to disregard to escape free
The secret place there I open my hidden aches
Away from blamers glance
My bloody wounds there take a bit rest
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Tract
I will teach you my townspeople
how to perform a funeral
for you have it over a troop
of artists-
unless one should scour the world-
you have the ground sense necessary.
See! the hearse leads.
I begin with a design for a hearse.
For Christ's sake not black-
nor white either - and not polished!
Let it be whethered - like a farm wagon -
with gilt wheels (this could be
applied fresh at small expense)
or no wheels at all:
a rough dray to drag over the ground.
Knock the glass out!
My God - glass, my townspeople!
For what purpose? Is it for the dead
to look out or for us to see
the flowers or the lack of them -
or what?
To keep the rain and snow from him?
He will have a heavier rain soon:
pebbles and dirt and what not.
Let there be no glass -
and no upholstery, phew!
and no little brass rollers
and small easy wheels on the bottom -
my townspeople, what are you thinking of?
A rough plain hearse then
with gilt wheels and no top at all.
On this the coffin lies
by its own weight.
No wreathes please-
especially no hot house flowers.
Some common memento is better,
something he prized and is known by:
his old clothes - a few books perhaps -
God knows what! You realize
how we are about these things
my townspeople -
something will be found - anything
even flowers if he had come to that.
So much for the hearse.
For heaven's sake though see to the driver!
Take off the silk hat! In fact
that's no place at all for him -
up there unceremoniously
dragging our friend out to his own dignity!
Bring him down - bring him down!
Low and inconspicuous! I'd not have him ride
on the wagon at all - damn him! -
the undertaker's understrapper!
Let him hold the reins
and walk at the side
and inconspicuously too!
Then briefly as to yourselves:
Walk behind - as they do in France,
seventh class, or if you ride
Hell take curtains! Go with some show
of inconvenience; sit openly -
to the weather as to grief.
Or do you think you can shut grief in?
What - from us? We who have perhaps
nothing to lose? Share with us
share with us - it will be money
in your pockets.
Go now
I think you are ready.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Those were the Days
The horse drawn hearse impresses me
Drawn by a pair of well matched blacks.
Moves slowly onward sedately.
With an attendant at the back.
The coachman in dark livery.
A black crepe bow adorns his hat
Controls his horses easily
There can be little doubt of that.
It is a sight we rarely see.
In the busy world of today.
A horse drawn hearse traditionally.
Was seen to be the only way.
To embark on your last journey
To the local cemetery.
Tuesday,17 April 2012.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Stigmata Diaboli
I can't see as I'm facing your pityful lies
Don't have the strength to carry your heavy load of life
I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
oh
I can't see through your eyes, spill your tears on me
I will lift the burden from your shoulders just to have killing
I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Just as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
I'm your christ to and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
So I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh, so you've come from above
and you say you want it all
I cut myself for your love
I'm killing myself for you, yes you
I can't see as I'm facing your pityful lies
Don't have the strength to carry your heavy load of life
I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Yes you do
Yes you do, my Darling
Yes you do..oh
Yes you do, oh my Love
so....
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Palace in the Sky
Forever lost inside my own world-never to come out of hiding
I am building palaces in the sky though I can only see the stars.
I can only see the stars, and
The quarter moon's light shining dimly upon the horizon
Casting its shadows upon the places of my dreams-
How I wish to escape the misfortunes of life upon this planet and
Make my home inside a palace somewhere in the sky.
I had built a million palaces, so it seems-
Every day and every night, I find myself rapidly losing my grasp upon
What is real and what is not- I am running a marathon toward someplace
Between the land where grasses and flowers grow and the
Trees, from the ground reaching upward to touch the clouds,
I can feel the gentleness of the late spring's breeze
Blowing against my cheeks, damp from tears that have I have cried, as
This world has not been kind to me.
People are heartless, and only laugh when I am weeping,
Looking into my eyes reading my thoughts, and
Ridiculing me as I converse with the voices inside of my mind,
Which have become my only consoling realities while inside this world of my fantasies,
I have become a dove with broken wings-which with deep gratefulness can still fly.
Lost inside some sort of trance, I am building palaces in the sky.
Placid breezes rustle the leaves upon the trees, almost making music-
Creating tunes about nature, peace of mind and are never threatening-
However, I know that one day these trees will all be cut down to fabricate homes
For thousands of people- people who have no heart or no spirit of patience or kindness
So I know that I must continue building my palaces in the sky.
Summer storms shall rip across the sky and I know I must use all my strength
To stay alive so I may lift my broken wings to find a palace which I have built-
The quarter moon is casting its light upon the world and about the sky-
I am glancing repeatedly towards the sky searching for my palace, my home-
Flying bravely about to the best of my ability, on
My endless search for freedom and safety, praying to a God I am not certain that exists-
My hope is to see my golden palace glistening beneath the light of the quarter moon,
All I can see are the stars- what lurks behind those stars I may never know,
But I shall continue to fight the clouds and build my palaces, my castles.
May the stars illuminate the darkness and guide me towards some redeeming veracity,
Even if I never find my palace- in the meantime I shall keep on
Looking upward and forward and even if my dreams never do come true-
I know I can always continue to travel about the sky and I know that
I shall forever behold the splendor of the moon and always count upon the stars
To elucidate the direction upon which I travel and for always be my guiding lights…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Self Portrait
I can see this world in a different way- from this world I hid for many years.
Riding a ship towards some other galaxy,
Though only inside of my mind-
The rain would pour down upon the real world, and
In the mid winter the snow would fall, but
Lost in some other place in time, I only saw the sun.
I was a rare bird whose wings would carry me
High above the treetops, the mountains and
Even above the highest clouds,
Traveling far away from everybody and everything that was real.
Rain, sleet and hail would fall, though all I could see was a rainbow,
Glistening within the sky, high above the mountains-
I placed no trust in the people who walked upon the ground below,
Although it hardly mattered- I could always converse with those people
Who lived within the kingdom inside of my mind.
I would board a ship, its full sails to the wind,
Carrying me towards the world of my dreams-
Today I see the world in a different way-Now I see reality,
I see reality- hunger, war and people who threaten, and
All I can do is place my hands over my eyes, hoping to shut this cruel world out.
The ship I rode to some other place has been lost somewhere in the sky and
A rare bird, whose wings are now broken, I now see the world under a different light.
Somebody took me and locked me away last night and I have become
A prisoner inside of my own mind-upon that ship with fallen sails
I feel as if I am on a pathway headed towards nowhere-
I place my hands over my eyes. Attempting to hide from all that is real,
Unable to find peace of mind, unable to find my rainbow.
I find myself alone inside of an empty room, with no windows and a door that is locked-
I converse with the voices that speak to me inside of my mind-as
These, nobody can take them away from me and
They are all that is left of my dreams…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Memory Lane
This is the place
You end up when
You lose the chase
Where you're dragged against your will
From a basement on the hill
And all anybody knows is
You're not like them
They kick you in the head
And send you back to bed
Isolation pulled you past a tunnel to a
Bright world where you can make a place to stay
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
The mayor's name is fear
His force patrols the pier
From a mountain of cliche
That advances everyday
The doctor spoke of cloud
He rained out loud
You'll keep the doors and windows shut
And swear
You'll never show a soul again
But isolation pushes you til every muscle aches
Down the only road it ever takes
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
If it's your decision
To be open about yourself
Be careful or else
Be careful or else
I'm comfortable apart
It's all written on my chart
That I take what's given to me
Most cooperatively
I do what people say
And lie in bed all day
Absolutely horrified
I hope you're satisfied
Isolation pushes past self-hatred, guilt, and shame
To a place where sufferings just a game
But everybody's scared of this place
They're staying away
Your little house on memory lane
Your little house on memory lane
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where’s Grandad
The hearse had been booked at the Co-op
for the Friday before the Goose Fair.
We paid for a top notch send off,
with a carriage and six to bear.
The hearse was well behind schedule
on the morning we were burying grandad.
The wind was howling and the sky was dark,
and it began to rain quite bad.
The coffin lay on the front room table
with the flag and white lilies on top.
My dad was anxiously twitching the curtains
until he saw the carriage and horses stop.
It had finally arrived to take grandad
to his resting place in the ground.
Six solemn bearers came into the house
and they never made a sound.
In the hearse they carefully placed the coffin,
then returned to their seating places.
But then they galloped off down the street
leaving us with rain soaked faces.
We ran to our cars and tried to catch up,
but the traffic lights didn’t go our way.
The next time we saw the shiny oak coffin
was by the grave, with the vicar about to pray.
Under umbrellas we gathered and watched
as the coffin was slowly lowered down.
Well after all that it didn’t turn out so bad,
except that we were at the burial of a Mrs Brown.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Nature's Peace
On my scooter I was driving along a slender road
on the upper valley. At the bottom of the vale,
where the main road is, I heard swishes of traffic.
A hot afternoon but the westerly wind blew from
the sea and made it bearable. I stopped and just
sat there listening to the subdued natural din.
On the other side of the valley houses have been
built since I came, that’s ok, as they blend in with
the landscape. I looked up and saw the dead oak,
leafless and grey, nothing lasts forever my friend.
An old man now I’m aware of my mortality, but
this was a moment of peace, and I felt invincible.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Summer in the City
There's something about parks
- as though there's more air to breathe
More space to hope, dream, think, feel
But none for stress, isolation or fear
A safe zone for happiness
A vacuum of liberty
A state of honest beauty
A black box of great realizations
A place where we open our doors
and remove our walls
- like the man passing by with his shirt buttoned down and his jacket swinging from the relaxed shouder
A place where we're open for new impressions and unafraid to express ourselves
- like the girls with the notebooks, the boys with the cameras, on the benches, looking eagerly for things to live through
A place to meet
- like the strangers discussing weather, politics and fates and couples tangled toghether under the trees. Like the old loners seing themselves for the first time.
-As though Life
was finally given a place
to exist.
poem by Agnes Török
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Forms of Wealth
To money is attributed wealth
But the open truth of wealth
Is, It is not the only kind of wealth—
There are also other forms of wealth!
Good health is the best form of wealth
Forging rich links in relationships is wealth
Spontaneous love for all life forms is wealth
To have enthusiasm in life is wealth.
Acquiring life-long learning is wealth
Experience and wisdom in life is wealth
Meeting new people is also wealth
Visiting new places too is authentic wealth.
The quest to explore something is wealth
To have a positive mind-set is wealth
Existence of deep internal peace is wealth
Early morning waking up with joy is wealth.
Possessing high self-respect is wealth
Having strong spiritual connection is wealth
There exist so many types of wealth
Constitute all these and you're with full wealth!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Into The Void
Im losing power and I dont know why
Not really sure if Ill live or die
I wanna leave but I cant get away
Its a strange sensation
Out of control being by myself
I feel this gravitation
Caught like a magnet and Im being pulled
Into the void
I wanna get away, get away
Into the void
Im being pulled, Im being pulled down
Into the void
This place is spinning, spinning around
Into the void
Fell like Im being pulled into a black hole
This crazy feelings screwing with my head
Im overloading and my gauges are red
State of confusions got ahold on me
I feel a hesitation
Im being (? )drug, pulled out of the track(? )
Dont like the situation
Caught like a magnet and Im being pulled
Into the void
I wanna get away, get away
Into the void
My head is spinning, spinning around round
Into the void
This force is getting, gettin stronger
Into the void
Fell like Im being pulled into a black hole
Into the void
Im being pulled, being pulled down down down
[solo]
Into the void
Dont like this feeling, Im being pulled down
Into the void
I wanna get away, get away
Into the void
Feel like its spinning, spinning around
Into the void
Im being pulled, being pulled down down down
Into the void
Get away, get away
Into the void
Fell like Im being pulled into a black hole
Into the void
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outside My Picture Window
It has been said that there is a world outside my picture window and
Beyond the trees I see everyday and the sky, sometimes overcast and
Other days, when the sun rises early- I can see the sky and have often wondered if
There exists another world within our universe- I know that
There exists a world inside of my mind and
My pupils are the windows into which
People would look if I were to venture outward?
Beyond the sky, and beyond the sun-
Beyond that world inside my mind,
I would never know where there exists a place for me-
Last night outside of my window
I could see the stars- stars mean different things to different people as
Does the sun, the trees and this whole world outside-
The world inside my mind revolves about
The sun that shines upon my own horizon and
As for this world outside, all I can do is look- and to
See a tree, perhaps a single cloud and the grass that grows-
I have shut my mind to the people who live beyond
The trees, clouds and the grass that I can see-
That window opens to the world inside of my thoughts-
I have just shut and pulled the curtain to discourage all intruders-
I am lying by my window in total darkness now as I place my hand over my eyes,
Shutting out reality and now I can see mountains, flowering trees and
A creek flowing in which I can see my reflection and
I am running upon the grass that grows beneath my feet-
I believe I heard music playing inside the fortress of my mind-
It has been said there is a world outside and I have pulled the curtain
To the window once opened to veracity-
Darkness has never looked as beautiful as I am safe here in my solitude-
Even when the stars are shining and the sky is such a magnificent sight to see-
No place is as exquisite as the creek that runs through my inner space and
The sun inside the world of my thoughts that shines upon my horizon?
The stars are far away and all that is real, though just outside my picture window
I perceive as too far away for me to reach- I would touch the stars and I could be a dove
That can lift my wings and fly away from all that threatens, but only inside my dreams-
Children sing songs and read fairy tales and they believe and I believe that
The sun shines light upon their worlds and
Someday their dreams shall blossom as has mine and shall become their homes-
Home is the safe place inside a person's mind, not within the madding crowd that
Exists outside my picture window- even if the stars are always there- and
That unique and special sun shall just keep on shining upon the world of my dreams….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Al Cobdogla's Hearse
The mood in the town of Warramine
Was grim, and getting worse,
For stuck on the town's old hump-back bridge
Was Al Cobdogla's hearse,
The brakes had failed and the motor quit
And the footplates wedged each side,
The springs had sprung, and the body hung
On Emily's final ride!
The coffin lodged in the back was black,
As black as Emily's sin,
There wasn't a man in the great outback
That hadn't been out and in,
For Emily Gray was more than gay
In the old sense of the word,
She only charged a dollar a spin
Out there in the cattle yard.
For Emily was an outdoor girl
She couldn't abide inside,
She liked the sun on her naked legs
And a good bit more beside,
She'd run stark naked under the trees
When the wattle began to bloom,
And wives would lock their men in the bar
On a Saturday afternoon.
‘The blatant hussy, ' - ‘The brazen bitch! '
The women would often say,
The men would mutter and dropp their heads,
‘It's only Emily Gray! '
They found her lying without a stitch,
Or that's what somebody said,
And beat her bloody with candlesticks,
So now, poor Emily's dead!
She lay in the coffin, wedged in tight,
As tight as the hearse on the bridge,
The men got worried and pulled her out
And stuck her in somebody's fridge!
‘She won't last long in the heat out here,
It's over a hundred today, '
It seemed that the women of Warramine
Were stuck with Emily Gray!
They pushed and heaved, pummelled and thrust
But nothing could budge that hearse,
The only bridge into Warramine
Was blocked, for better or worse,
The farmers couldn't get into the pub,
The townsfolk, locked in the town,
While Emily Gray, quite naked lay
With the men, all milling around.
They built a fabulous highway bridge,
Four lanes, both in and out,
While Al Cobdogla's ancient hearse
Is part of the tourist route,
And Emily went to her final rest
To the cheers of the men, and cursed,
But Warramine boasts its ‘Emily Bridge'
Thanks to Cobdogla's hearse!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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