Bury Me
In a mausoleum interred don't let me be
Nor in a metal box lay the remains of me
be buried underground six feet, it is too deep
Only a shallow grave is what for me I wish
So I can go to dust, whereto I should return
And again of nature a part I will become
Feed and nourish even the weeds and lowly grass
Be of use and value, which I was not in life
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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A Shallow Grave
Not deep, let my grave be shallow
From dust I came to dust I'd go
And of nature I'll be a part
Nourish even the lowly grass
And be of worth that I was not
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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Six Feet Under
In the morning I wake up
And in the night I sleep
Since the day that I was born
Repeat, repeat, repeat
Brought to this life
Born to this life
Where was I before?
Non-existent? not at all?
Will I ever know?
Today is my birthday
And I get one every year
And some day...
Hard to believe
But Ill be buried six feet underground
Subconsciously motivated natural instinct
Alter nature for the pleasure
Orthocycline
Flirt with conception
Slow the cycle
Will the baby grow?
Social tradition interference
Control, control, control
Today is my birthday
And I get one every year
And some day...
Hard to believe
But Ill be buried six feet underground
Ill be dead and gone, no longer around
Spinng, spinning
Before I can recall
All the unknown chemicals
Control the cycle
The successive generations
From dust to dust
Burying my grandma
Then give birth to my own daughter
Today is my birthday
And I get one every year
And some day...
Hard to believe
But Ill be buried six feet underground
Today is my birthday
And I get one every year
And some day...
Hard to believe
But Ill be buried six feet undergrounf
Ill be dead and gone, no longer around
Ill be burried six feet underground.
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shallow Grave
When I fall in endless sleep
I hope that I'll be buried deep
Let me be the one that fortune favours
Even good children got shallow graves
Throw another clown to the lions
Throw another Joan on the blaze
Cast me away on the cruel calm ocean
and leave me for days and days and days and days and days
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
I won't lie, I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Bless the poor 'cos like the rich
They all end up in a ditch
In this world of fools and knaves
Even good children got shallow graves
The tinker, the tailor, the fabulous five
Nobody gets out of this alive
Chorus
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down, dig me down, dig me down deep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shallow Graves
When I fall in endless sleep
I hope that Ill be buried deep
Let me be the one that fortune favours
Even good children got shallow graves
Throw another clown to the lions
Throw another joan on the blaze
Cast me away on the cruel calm ocean
And leave me for days and days and days and days and days
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
I wont lie, I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Bless the poor cos like the rich
They all end up in a ditch
In this world of fools and knaves
Even good children got shallow graves
The tinker, the tailor, the fabulous five
Nobody gets out of this alive
Chorus
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down, dig me down, dig me down deep
I wont lie in this poor shallow grave
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are Part Of Nature
We are part of Nature to her we belong
Those who tell you otherwise they have got it wrong
The only God or Goddess I can claim to know
Lives in Nature and my wonder of her only grow.
As much as the sheep or the goat or the cow
Or the blackbird who pipes upon the leafy bough
Or the wildflowers that bloom on the banks of the stream
We are part of Nature or so it does seem.
We are part of Nature it does seem to me
Though some with my opinions may well not agree
To Nature we have to return to one day
And in her earthy bosom our remains will lay.
As much as the koala or wombat or roo
Or as much as the black or the white cockatoo
Or as much as the echidna or the emu
We are part of Nature that fact remains true.
The Goddess who feeds us why must i explain
That we are part of Nature must i say it again?
As much as the blossoms on the leafy tree
We are part of Nature you as well as me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Are Unto Dust
You are made from the dust of the earth,
And the Wailing-Wall will be there for you;
For you are unto dust and you shall return unto dust,
And this is just the journey of the spirit.
To the realm of the unknown and to the things we do for love,
And until death put us apart on this side of the planet;
For the flesh goes back to where it belongs to!
Yes, back to the earth.
Death is part of us and we need to learn from others,
For we have to be prepared as well;
For he flesh goes back to where it belongs to;
And out of the dust we were made.
The dust became flesh and today we are human beings,
And from the knowledge of the things to come;
But naked we came and naked we shall return.
Shed no tears on this love,
For death comes for all of us on this earth;
And we need to learn from the facts around us as well,
For it is better to be very righteous than to be buried with evil deeds.
Life is a long road full of sand and,
All that is acquired on this earth is vanity!
Yes, vanity upon vanity! !
For you and i are unto dust and,
Unto dust we shall return at the end of of all things.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Recycle
Everyday we recycle something
and over the last few years,
this has really caught on,
but we have a long way to go
to catch up with nature
that has been doing this
ever since time began.
Everything that dies
returns to the earth
to feed new life somewhere,
even we do not go to waste
whether we are buried or cremated,
either way we will turn to dust
and once again be immersed
into the soil of life.
15 February 2012
poem by David Harris
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As Bronze May Be Much Beautified
As bronze may be much beautified
By lying in the dark damp soil,
So men who fade in dust of warfare fade
Fairer, and sorrow blooms their soul.
Like pearls which noble women wear
And, tarnishing, awhile confide
Unto the old salt sea to feed,
Many return more lustrous than they were.
But what of them buried profound,
Buried where we can no more find.
Who ( )
Lie dark for ever under abysmal war?
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Just Leave Me With Nature
A stranger to any success or renown
And if I should die far south of old Millstreet Town
It will not matter to me then where my bones will lay
Just leave me with Nature and I will be okay
Does not matter if they bury me or to ashes me they burn
From Nature I came and to her I'll return
In immortal Mother Nature so much to admire
And of singing her praises could one ever tire,
The wonders of Nature is an amazing thing
And the praises of Nature with joy we should sing
We are part of Nature it does seem to me
Though many with my thinking may not agree
To your unseen God you may kneel for to pray
But in Mother Nature's bosom your remains will lay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Just Leave Me To Nature
In Claraghatlea near Millstreet my life's journey began
And in that old Townland i grew into a man
But i cannot say where my remains will lay
I will be with Nature and that is okay.
I will be with Nature and it will not matter to me then
If i am not remembered as one of the great men
Who were of a benefit to human kind
For centuries of fame i do not feel inclined.
I've heard her birds sing and I've breathed her air
Just leave me to Nature of me she'll take care
And even if my bones to ashes will burn
I was born of Nature and to her I'll return.
Just leave me to Nature for to rest in peace
From the cares of living I'll have found a release
In Claraghatlea near Millstreet i first saw light of day
But i am not to know where my remains will lay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What We Have Become
in the shallow part of the river
we decide to play: life is a game
we like to believe that
our arms drip like cold water
on the side of the glass
that you hold when you have felt
the first thirst
i shall not satisfy you
and so i have become the bait
of the fish
you have become more interested
on what i have to say
not to be mistaken as trivial
i have also taken more glances at you
i believe you
and so with this trust i ask you to go with me
to the deep part of the sea
i swim first then you follow
you know how to swim and you swim well in fact
like a fish
at the shallow part
i told you that nothing is hidden
nothing signifies anything
the stones are stones
and nothing else
your questions are just ordinary questions
which i have answered to well
and you believe me more until
we dive deep
deeper into the ocean floor
where the sands though silent
have more to say
than what i can tell you
the stones on the sides of the deep
now are telling you more
and you begin to understand
why for all those years
on that dry land
i have kept my silence
my distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mowing
There was not a sound
but that of the machine
that howl against the sky
and magically sheared the grass
from where it grew.
No bushes of grass, or even weeds
could keep its length
when that yellow long necked
Weedeater appeared.
Grass, weeds and stems
were scattered everywhere
and underneath, with the smell
of mown grass in the air
a beautiful lawn appeared.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Word To The Unwise
Charles Main, of Main & Winchester, attend
With friendly ear the chit-chat of a friend
Who knows you not, yet knows that you and he
Travel two roads that have a common end.
We journey forward through the time allowed,
I humbly bending, you erect and proud.
Our heads alike will stable soon the worm
The one that's lifted, and the one that's bowed.
You in your mausoleum shall repose,
I where it pleases Him who sleep bestows;
What matter whether one so little worth
Shall stain the marble or shall feed the rose?
Charles Main, I had a friend who died one day.
A metal casket held his honored clay.
Of cyclopean architecture stood
The splendid vault where he was laid away.
A dozen years, and lo! the roots of grass
Had burst asunder all the joints; the brass,
The gilded ornaments, the carven stones
Lay tumbled all together in a mass.
A dozen years! That taxes your belief.
Make it a thousand if the time's too brief.
'Twill be the same to you; when you are dead
You cannot even count your days of grief.
Suppose a pompous monument you raise
Till on its peak the solar splendor blaze
While yet about its base the night is black;
But will it give your glory length of days?
Say, when beneath your rubbish has been thrown,
Some rogue to reputation all unknown
Men's backs being turned-should lift his thieving hand,
Efface your name and substitute his own.
Whose then would be the monument? To whom
Would be the fame? Forgotten in your gloom,
Your very name forgotten-ah, my friend,
The name is all that's rescued by the tomb.
For memory of worth and work we go
To other records than a stone can show.
These lacking, naught remains; with these
The stone is needless for the world will know.
Then build your mausoleum if you must,
And creep into it with a perfect trust;
But in the twinkling of an eye the plow
Shall pass without obstruction through your dust.
Another movement of the pendulum,
And, lo! the desert-haunting wolf shall come,
And, seated on the spot, shall howl by night
O'er rotting cities, desolate and dumb.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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From The Love To The Love!
Dust is full of mites, microbes and earth,
When we smell it we may sneeze and get flu,
When we blow it, we may spread it near and afar,
What vertebrate could have come out of it?
Dust is the dust that can hold water and minerals,
To feed and nourish the plants, thus the animals,
Man retrieves all goodness from these two,
And proclaim himself as the savior of the universe.
Constant changes in our bodies define us as living, getting old,
We are vulnerable to various threats, but we are protected to be safe,
We are what the dust can hold, the water and minerals,
But we are not from the dust, as the myth and missionaries told.
From the womb to the dust, we progress day by day,
From the clean slate to the scribbled souls, we get stained,
The story of dust should be dusted out and rewritten,
Evolution of human from the love to the love, be ascertained.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Metal Gods
Weve taken too much for granted
And all the time it had grown
From techno seeds we first planted
Evolved a mind of its own
Marching in the streets
Dragging iron feet
Laser beaming hearts
Ripping men apart
From off Ive seen my perfection
Where we could do as we please
In secrecy this infection
Was spreading like a disease
Hiding underground
Knowing wed be found
Fearing for our lives
Reaped by robots scythes
Metal gods
Metal gods
(solo glenn)
Metal gods
Metal gods
Machines are taking all over
With mankind in their command
In time theyd like to discover
How they can make their demand
Better be the slaves
To their wicked ways
But meeting with our death
Engulfed in molten breath
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Lowly Nails
Three lowly nails,
Changed the world for you and me
Three lowly nails,
Were used to attach Jesus to a tree
Three lowly nails,
In each hand and through His feet
Three lowly nails,
Set His people free
Three lowly nails,
Gave us a King for eternity
poem by David Kush
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Feed Me Love
Feed me love!
That's it.
All of those other promises,
To nourish my diet...
Has not left my appetite encouraged,
One bit!
Feed me some love as a main course.
Do not tease me with it as if it is dessert!
Whatever you say it will do for me,
I want that fed to me as an entrée first.
Feed me with it to quench my thirst.
Do not tease the love I hunger and deserve.
Feed me love!
That's it.
All of those other promises,
To nourish my diet...
Has not left my appetite encouraged,
One bit!
Feed me love,
And fill me up with it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Indra
DOWN to the sand-covered earth.
Straw from the harvested fields soiled our feet;
Dust from the high-roads,
Smoke from the cities,
Foul-smelling breaths,
Fumes from cellars and kitchens,
All we endured.
Then to the open sea we fled,
Filling our lungs with air,
Shaking our wings,
And laving our feet.
Indra, Lord of the Heavens,
Hear us!
Hear our sighing!
Unclean is the earth;
Evil is life;
Neither good nor bad
Can men be deemed.
As they can, they live,
One day at a time.
Sons of dust, through dust they journey;
Born out of dust, to dust they return.
Given they were, for trudging,
Feet, not wings for flying.
Dusty they grow--
Lies the fault then with them,
Or with Thee?
poem by August Strindberg
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Children's Playground In The City
THIS is a place where men laid their dead,
Each with his life-tale of good or ill;
Here prayers were murmured and hot tears shed,
And passionate anguish moaned its fill.
Silent now is each voice that cried,
And the tears that were wept have all been dried
In the dust; and dust are the hearts that bled
With hopeless longing for hearts grown still.
Dead and forgotten! for Death, requiter
Of love, taught Memory how to forget!
The love that remembered them died. Grow brighter,
Oh, dim grave-garden, with dead hearts set!
Room for the small flying feet to pass,
The feet of the children over the grass!
The dead, if they knew it, would feel them lighter
Than the weight of a stone that no tears make wet.
We must die too, and the grief that will live
Must die as surely--death comes to all;
But you who come after--let Nature give
To our graves her tears, to our dust her pall:
Let her hide us away in her cold broad breast,
Let us be forgotten, and be at rest,
And over our heads let the great world strive,
And the children's voices carol and call.
If your heart on the flower of remembrance is set,
There is one way to pluck it--and only one:
Dare you ask your country not to forget
A name that needs to be graved on stone?
By grief, strife, sacrifice, scorn of fame,
You may grave on the people's hearts your name,
Or your name may die, and your soul live yet
In the cause you died for--the work you have done.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Shallow Days...
well, there are
shallow days, nothing deep
something for my
feet,
above me the sun
one and only one sun
just the sun and my head
and the shallow waters
on my toes
and the noon time walk
when everyone is as usual
having lunch, and
my toes get wet and i
am making meanings
on the shallow waters
the body in the middle of
this air, the hands are like
eagles flying. the fingers are
turning into feathers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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