For Lolit...
poverty is like a thorn
inside your throat, and most
often this thorn
blocks the smooth flow
of food inside
your stomach,
you bleed to
death and your husband
who asks for donations
to buy your coffin
like Moses goes up
the Mount Moria and
prays there
he is seen by the neighbor
and he is described as
a cross of the new
Calvary
on that gray morning
when the fog still hangs
itself
in suicide position
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Only One Horrible Thorn
I like to cry and throw a fit
Even the dark day I was born
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
I did not like people around
I would sit, curse at them and scorn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
My heart could never feel the love
Deep inside I felt sad and torn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
People still tried to get close to me
I would open my mouth and warn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
I will never show a smile
This is an oath that I have sworn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
But the day will come, I will die
Then haunt people after they mourn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
poem by Paul Celano
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Lost
Uh!
Why cant I decide why my feelings I hide?
Always screwing with my mind, a thorn in my spine.
Oh sure, it feels fine, wasting all our time.
In the back of my mind, a thorn in my spine.
Wait! see it before my eyes.
Why? do I turn away?
Looking all the time, at your face so blind.
Feeling uptight, always the same fight.
Hey man now decide, go ahead take your time.
Kissing all the time, that thorn in my spine.
Wait! you cannot see inside
Why! play yourself out that way
Why! you and me always hate
Wait! werent you my friend?
The pain in which I could not feel!
Hey man look inside, now you need your own life.
Remember me guy? that thorn in your spine.
Waiting all the time, Im doing mighty fine.
Remember me guy? the thorn in your spine.
Wait! you cannot see inside.
Why? play yourself out that way
Why? you and me always hate
Wait! werent you my friend
Wait! you were my friend.
song performed by by Korn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Rose Has Its Thorn
[Originally by Poison]
We both lie silently still in the dead of the night
Although we both lie close together
We feel miles apart inside
Was it somethin' I said or somethin' I did
Did my words not come out right
Tho' I tried not to hurt you
Tho' I tried
But I guess that's why they say
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Yea it does
I listen to your favorite song playin' on the radio
Hear the DJ say love's a game of
Easy come and easy go
But I wonder does he know
Has it ever felt like this
And I know that you'd be here right now
If I could have let you know somehow I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Though it's been a while now
I can still feel so much pain
Like the knife that cuts you
The wound heals, but the scar, that scar remains
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
So I hear you've found somebody new
And that I never meant that much to you
To hear that tears me up inside
And to see you cuts me like a knife, I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty
I pricked my finger on a thorn
and saw my blood run red.
I winced but focused on the rose
beside the thorn instead.
For pain is nothing compared to beauty.
It's just a temporary phase.
But the rose beside the thorn that hurts
is worthy of all praise.
I pressed the rose inside my book
so that it would last.
I saw the thorn that pricked my finger
but the moment of that had passed.
For lasting pain recedes in time
but beauty stays with you.
Now as I reopen the book once more
It's only the beauty I view.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Thorn In My Side
Thorn in, my side.
And you live just to pull me down.
Rusted, nail I stepped on.
This infection.
Thorn in my side.
Youre full,
I think so,
of anger.
You need to sit down,
stay down.
The things you, want but dont get.
Is that fair, I dont think so.
A sure thing, you can count, on.
A big depression.
A thorn in my side.
Youre full,
I think so,
of anger.
You need to.
Your praise, is two faced,
And youre,
youre cut down,
my friend.
Cut Down.
(One, two, three, four by Sergio Vega)
A thorn in my side, thorn in.
A thorn in my side, thorn in.
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside That Coffin
Inside that coffin
It is where family wisdom comes from
Where we have been parented
Where a minority of this family rest.
INSIDE THAT COFFIN
It is where the beloved one rest
For god have sent her there
Where she thirst no more
INSIDE THAT COFFIN
A silver rest inside
Thou its inside is filled with darkness
INSIDE THAT COFFIN
I have proven
Every dark cloud, there is a silver lining.
poem by Nengovhela Murendeni
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Thorn
We both lie silently still in the dead of the night
Although we both lie close together
We feel miles apart inside
Was it somethin' I said or somethin' I did
Did my words not come out right
Tho' I tried not to hurt you
Tho' I tried
But I guess that's why they say
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Yeah it does
I listen to your favorite song playin' on the radio
Hear the DJ say love's a game of
Easy come and easy go
But I wonder does he know
Has it ever felt like this
And I know that you'd be here right now
If I could have let you know somehow I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Though it's been a while now
I can still feel so much pain
Like the knife that cuts you
The wound heals, but the scar, that scar remains
I know I could have saved our love that night
If I'd known what to say
Instead if making love
We both made our separate ways
Now I hear you've found somebody new
And that I never meant that much to you
To hear that tears me up inside
And to see you cuts me like a knife, I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thorn and Hate
there is heart springs thorn
there is growth of hate
you plant the thorn
you sow seed of hate
will you cultivate the thorn
or fertilize that hate
I don't want to harvest thorn
you cause me to hate
my heart's never gone from thorn
you always add that hate
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Poem For J.M.
you don't bother me
even if you leave even if you are gone for weeks
and you do not tell me where you are
if you curse me i simply listen
i am attuned to curses
since birth
i can always remember how curses
hurt for the first time
but often repeated and repeated like a chant
in fact it becomes
comforting on the idea that you still make me
feel that i exist
if you are a thorn
i refuse to be another thorn
how can a rose bloom
if we are all thorns
in the garden
of Eden?
you don't irritate me
i have all discarded what sensitivity is left inside me
there is no more
lethargy
neither can you find its opposite
that unworded
ecstacy
you see at the age of thirty
i have already known myself
well rounded stone
hard and smooth
and
freed from the freckles of feelings
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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O Singer in Brown
O, singer in brown!
O, bird o' th' morn!
O, heart of delight
In th' deep o' th' thorn!
Glad is thy song
Thou joy o' th' morn,
Thou palpitant throat
In the heart o' th' thorn!
Thy song of the nest,
O, sweet o' th' morn!
A nest and an egg
In the thick o' th' thorn.
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
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Little Sister
(m. shuman-d. pomus)
(b) - (e) - (gm) - (f) - (c9) - (f7) - (gm7)
(bþ) little sister wont you (eþ) please, please, (bþ) please
Little sister dont you (eþ) cheat on (bþ) me
Little sister dont you (eþ) kiss me once and twice
Say its very nice and then you (gm) run (f)
(eþ) little sister dont you (c9) do what your (f) big sister (bþ) done
Well, I (b) dated your big sister
And I (e) took her to a show (b)
I (e) went out for some candy
Along came jim dandy
And they (f) snuck right out the door
Little sister wont you please, please, please
Little sister dont you cheat on me
Little sister dont you kiss me once and twice
Say its very nice and then you run
Little sister dont you do what your big sister done
Evry time I see your sister
Seems shes got somebody new
Well, shes mean and evil
Like that little old boll weevil
Got to try my luck with you
Sister wont you please, please, please
Little sister dont you cheat on me
Little sister dont you kiss me once and twice
Say its very nice and then you run
Little sister dont you do what your big sister done
Well, now I used to pull your pigtails
And I pinched your turned-up nose
Baby you been a-growin
Yes, its been a-showin
From your head down to your toes
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flesh Wound
We flew over miles of ocean--be prepared.
I don't have the faintest notion who'll be there.
You underestimated; nobody sympathized.
I think you'll soon feel better once we get inside.
I see the door is open -- Why don't we walk right in?
Let's put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you'd be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound--another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound--another irritation you abide
You know the rumour's going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn't be surprised.
I say -- you're so outrageous -- you'll go to number one!
They'll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound--another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you're completely debonair;
Let's go dutch -- it's only fair.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound--another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound--another curse that you ride.
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why blame the thorn?
Why blame the thorn
the rose needed it..
when a bud
to protect from plucking hands
when blossomed
safe from suckling bands
the rose slept
while the thorn crept
wildly adept
upon the petalling fingers
when the rose aged
and sees no reason
for the thorn's missions
now the rose
ready to free
from the plant
and adorn the world
hates the thorn
that accompanies it.
poem by Lalitha Iyer
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Her Bliss
Death is in the flower's heart –
Why to cry for life of any petal?
Death in purple ink of weary pens
Betrays the written yearnings
On her scented paper.
Death is laughing in her cry;
Her broken heart forlorn upon the sleeve.
Death ignores the plight of any purity –
He doesn’t care or seem to be aware of
What her dewy eye desires,
For Death beckoned:
'Embrace the jar! '
And yes, she did –
For Death, of course.
After all, no other man would
Open up her hand and bid her with a kiss,
So Death became her bliss.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A highly valuable chain of thoughts
HAD cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
No man would be a funker
Of whin, or burn, or bunker.
There were no need for mashies,
The turf would ne'er be torn,
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn.
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
The big trout would not ever
Escape into the river.
No gut the salmon smashes
Would leave us all forlorn,
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn.
But 'tis an unideal
Sad world in which we're born,
And things will 'go contrairy'
With Martin and with Mary:
And every day the real
Comes bleakly in with morn,
And cigarettes have ashes,
And every rose a thorn.
poem by Andrew Lang
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Den
Brain walls: bio-insulation keeps me cosy
in my hidden room.
Eye balls: bio-windows let me peer and sneer
upon our filthy race, with
Ear holes – bio-microphones – assuming tones
I only wish to face.
Inside, I flit between assimilation,
fantasy, and desperation – each another room
for me to occupy –
as in a nest or burrow, a honeycombed hive –
fathoming which to best survive in;
harbour me from that outside.
Shit! It’s just as bad in here –
I need another den to hide in!
So where’s a niche to keep me from the world,
but also from my rabid head?
Yes, of course –! it’s being dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
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suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The rose inside me
The rose inside me:
You were the rose inside me, now you are but
the thorn of that stem that flourishes this rose
who stabs inside me?
When you shot the bullet of hate -
into this heart that loved you more than love it-self
you were my root of the bud I planted.
Now no-more than a dead petal.
No-more the rose in me.
poem by Noorie Ali
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Under The Cover Of The Night
living so enclosed
like a dead man inside a coffin
there is no choice
but to sleep and inside the dream
pray more,
the man keeps reciting the prayers
on his fingers
to dispel all fears about death
when he wakes up however
everything becomes a different matter
it is not something strange
but it was the most certain thing that happens
death upon death
death of death
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The rose that bares no thorn
The rose that bares no thorn
~
How beautiful and pure
How sweetly kind and innocent
How loving to look upon
The rose that bares no thorn
Gentle to the tender touch
Pleasing to the hearts own eye
Of all that is beautiful
Is seen and known with joy
Seasoned into memory
To grow and flower once more
Let love be known and named
Then kept forevermore
As natural as the morning dew
So still, sweet and innocent
Never to cut or hurt
The rose that bares no thorn
Is a love in full bloom
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Shadow Inside My Shadow
poverty is not my cousin,
is not my lover,
is not my preacher,
poverty is not my brother.
poverty is not my prayer,
or the song that i sing
is not my answer
poverty is not my dream.
poverty is not my teacher,
not the hand that i hold.
poverty is not my anger,
not my spirit, not my soul.
ah! but this poverty is real
it races thru my mind
crashes into my heart,
& leaves me deaf and blind.
poverty is my companion.
the aching cold inside my hollow.
the blow behind my eyes,
poverty is the shadow
inside my shadow.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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