No Mercy
i close my eyes
again to what i recently see
memories strangled like hair
of a woman
on a barbed wire
blood spurts on the thorns
of a white rose
one evening
when the stars are awakened
by the sound of a man
calling the name of his lost woman
three letters
R
I
P.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thru My Eyes
Thru My Eyes I see a woman
A woman whom cannot see her own self
Images disguised by her childhood upbringing
And does not believe that she can find help
Thru My Eyes I see another woman
A woman whom I love and then have lost
Trying times of despair and resentment
Simple pleasures as holding her I miss the most
Thru My Eyes I see a woman
A woman with beautiful brown eyes
Though she continues to misunderstand me
Once again a deep breathe asking myself why
Thru My Eyes I see another woman
Who accepted me but I never gave in return
Tainting once viewed as our loving memories
Impulsive decisions forever wounding her
Thru My Eyes I see a beautiful woman
A woman with elegance that I cannot deny
Awaiting the day she discovers my love for her
A love that can only be seen Thru My Eyes
The Rose
the rose is a beauty to behold
it is loved by most women on this earth
is it because the rose is like a woman?
when it opens up and spreads its petals
it shows the beauty within and the softness to the touch.
yet just like a woman it has its thorns to protect its beauty.
so is the woman who has been betrayed-she will never be the same
she will protect the beauty like a spider protects its web.
so this is what i see.
the beauty of a woman which is locked up inside
will bloom like a rose with nothing to hide.
her beauty will be admired by men of all nations
they'll try to get to her to feel the sensation.
the sensation of knowing she is the one
who could raise the setting sun.
so as men we have to take care
for once we get into their hair
they'll be no way of turning back
until she combs her hair and loosens up the slack.
she will have us like a spider has its web
and suck us dry until we're dead.
but! what a wonderful death it will be
as long as we live in harmony.
poem by Louis Rams
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Battered Doll
A red dress for blood spilt,
Torn blouse for flesh rent;
Ladders in the stockings –
A rung for every callous blow landed.
Scuffed shoes winked about the kicks –
After all, bruise-gorged eyes can’t –
Just permanently closed.
Burning tears were scant warmth
Against a chill from ugly cries.
Lipstick smudges on the chin to
Nullify all vestiges of beauty –
Those that constituted rare patches
Of purest cream skin, from
Days of feminine joy, telling once
Upon a time there was an angel…
But now, a battered doll.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
woman woman
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woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman
woman woman
Woman
No more...
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sitting On A Barbed-wire Fence
I paid fifteen million dollars, twelve hundred and seventy-two cents
I paid one thousand two hundred twenty-seven dollars and fifty-five cents
See my hound dog bite a rabbit
And my footballs sittin on a barbed-wire fence
Well, my temperature rises and my feet dont walk so fast
Yes, my temperature rises and my feet dont walk so fast
Well, this arabian doctor came in, gave me a shot
But wouldnt tell me if what I had would last
Well, this woman Ive got, shes filling me with her drive
Yes, this woman Ive got, shes thrillin me with her hive
Shes calling me stan
Or else she calls me mister clive
Of course, youre gonna think this song is a riff
I know youre gonna think this song is a cliff
Unless youve been inside a tunnel
And fell down 69, 70 feet over a barbed-wire fence
All night!
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A rose I am no more
If roses are the colors pink, red, yellow & white,
What happens if my rose is the color of black.
If all roses have their thorns,
What happens if my rose has lost its thorns.
If a rose that has no color & no thorns is no longer a rose,
Then a rose of color & thorns I am no more.
A rose I am no more, A rose I am no more.
poem by Beating Tree
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I Am Not A Woman...
I am not a woman that loves with a heart
I am not a woman that's silly and smart
I am not a woman with open wounds
I am not a woman that's more attuned
I am not a woman that you hold dear
I am not a woman that has no fear
I am not a woman that's loved or lost
I am not a woman that doesn't know the cost
I am not a woman that's hurting inside
I am not a woman that has no foolish pride
I am not a woman that can't look you in the eye
I am not a woman alone that cries
I am not a woman that's imprisoned with chains
I am not a woman that holds her will in vain
I am not a woman, or mother, or friend
or wife, or daughter, or one to depend
I am not a woman of all and more
Because I gave it away to the one I adore
what's left is all you see
Just a woman that truly believes
Ghosts of War
Within the fog of did you see?
An old woman, made up to the nines
Can be seen in the corner of the non-believers eye
Purse in hand and a glass of wine
Waiting for a lover who never comes
Just shadows on the wall
Whispering names, through
Spiders silk, the inheritors
Of this forgotten, debutants ball
While Portraits glare at vacant laughter
An echoed waltz swirls
The embrace of loves decay,
Images now jailed within the Crystal shards
Of a fallen chandelier
A tear of Woman wears mourning face well,
This vigil Mask hiding mortality lost
Now broken and marking time,
Love lies lost in the barbed wire of war
Fallen stars to shine no more
Their Remembrance merging into darkness
Behind a cloudless unforgiving sky
Alone is the corpse in cratered field
Covered by poppies blood
Walked on by ghosts to come
Another Whispered soul is roaming
The guns have left their post
And Peace is just an illusion
For yet another Flanders ghost
This cruel winter’s night
The withered rose has lost its fragrance
The champagne has all gone flat
And love calls without an answer
For silence is the memory
And it is we
Who walk hand in hand
With our ghosts of War?
poem by Steven Cooke
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Gypsy Woman
From nowhere through the caravan
Round the campfire light
Lovely woman in motion
With hair as dark as night
Her eyes were like that of a cat in the dark
That hypnotized me with love
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She danced around and round
Guitars melody
From the fire her face was aglow
How she enchanted me
Id like to hold her near
And kiss her hair and whisper in her ear
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
All through the caravan
She was dancing with all the men
Waiting for the rising sun
Everyone was having fun
Hated to see her go
Knowing that shell never know
That I love her
That I love her
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
Whoever compared it to part monkey part man hit the nail on the head. it has that same kind of dark, mysterious sound. the vocals are soft and understated, somewhat reminiscent to those on if I should fall behind or pony boy. the song is sung with that nasally twang bruce has grown so fond of lately.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Alphabet
The letters of the Jews as strict as flames
Or little terrible flowers lean
Stubbornly upwards through the perfect ages,
Singing through solid stone the sacred names.
The letters of the Jews are black and clean
And lie in chain-line over Christian pages.
The chosen letters bristle like barbed wire
That hedge the flesh of man,
Twisting and tightening the book that warns.
These words, this burning bush, this flickering pyre
Unsacrifices the bled son of man
Yet plaits his crown of thorns.
Where go the tipsy idols of the Roman
Past synagogues of patient time,
Where go the sisters of the Gothic rose,
Where go the blue eyes of the Polish women
Past the almost natural crime,
Past the still speaking embers of ghettos,
There rise the tinder flowers of the Jews.
The letters of the Jews are dancing knives
That carve the heart of darkness seven ways.
These are the letters that all men refuse
And will refuse until the king arrives
And will refuse until the death of time
And all is rolled back in the book of days.
poem by Karl Shapiro
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At Seventeen
You were a child, and liked me, yesterday.
To-day you are a woman, and perhaps
Those softer eyes betoken the sweet lapse
Of liking into loving: who shall say?
Only I know that there can be for us
No liking more, nor any kisses now,
But they shall wake sweet shame upon your brow
Sweetly, or in a rose calamitous.
Trembling upon the verge of some new dawn
You stand, as if awakened out of sleep,
And it is I who cried to you, 'Arise!'
I who would fain call back the child that's gone,
And what you lost for me would have you keep,
Fearing to meet the woman of your eyes.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Her Hidden Treasure
Her flame was only for the women –
Not for us unlucky men;
A weakness lay for feminine way:
To feel an even fairer skin
In silky slide.
Her lips were for the satin love that
Only flows from rising breast;
The creamy tan was not for man
To pull towards a chiselled chest
In weathered hide.
Her hidden treasure down below
Would shy away from macho length
And only rouse upon the blouse
Undone by other sapphic strength –
In time, inside!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
woman woman woman woman woman woman
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woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Loved Woman
A loved woman's heart is a new lit candle,
Incandescent fire bright,
Her lambent eyes are sparkling stars
Glowing through the blackest night.
A loved woman's walk is fairy footfall
Leaping through the air so light,
A loved woman's hair will catch the
moonbeams
And reflect celestial white.
A loved woman's laughter -- silver bells
Ringing in the twinkling foam,
Her soul will soar to the highest
heights
Of Heaven's vast and starry dome!
!
poem by Marian Hallet
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You ARE A Woman :)
You are a woman,
A strong woman,
A grown woman,
One who WON'T give me what I want just cause I want it woman.
He needs you woman,
A loving woman,
Non-trusting woman,
One who knows the difference between right and wrong woman.
I found a woman,
You're one of em,
So many love em,
You just need to see the places you can be woman.
Hear me woman,
Don't fear me woman,
You're near me woman,
We all face strife, gotta change yo life woman.
See me woman,
No fake or frontin,
Can't be me woman,
For I am a man and you need to be a WOMAN!
['Enpowering women since the age of -9 months :) ']
poem by Tamell Bailey
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Blood Of Eden
I caught sight of my reflection
I caught it in the window
I saw the darkness in my heart
I saw the signs of my undoing
They had been there from the start
And the darkness still has work to do
The knotted chords untying
Theyre heated and theyre holy
Oh theyre sitting there on high
So secure with everything theyre buying
{chorus:}
In the blood of eden
Lie the woman and the man
With the man in the woman
And the woman in the man
In the blood of eden
Lie the woman and the man
We wanted the union
Oh the union of the woman
The woman and the man
My grip is surely slipping
I think Ive lost my hold
Yes, I think Ive lost my hold
I cannot get insurance anymore
They dont take credit, only gold
Is that a dagger or a crucifix I see
You hold so tightly in your hand
And all the while the distance grows between you and me
I do not understand
[chorus]
At my request, you take me in
In that tenderness, I am floating away
No certainty, nothing to rely on
Holding still for a moment
What a moment this is
Oh for a moment of forgetting, a moment of bliss
Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
I can hear the distant thunder
Of a million unheard souls
Of a million unheard souls
Watch each one reach for creature comfort
For the filling of their holes
In the blood of eden
Lie the woman and the man
With the man in the woman
And the woman in the man
In the blood of eden
We wanted the union
Of the woman and the man
In the blood of eden
Lie the woman and the man
I feel the man in the woman
And the woman in the man
In the blood of eden
Lie the woman and the man
I feel the man in the woman
And the woman in the man
In the blood of eden
Weve done everything we can
In the blood of eden
Saw the end as we began
With the man in the woman
And the woman in the man
It was all for the union
Oh, the union of the woman, the woman and the man.
[extra lyrics from the film mix]
The blood of eden keeps running through me
Running through my veins
The blood of eden keeps rushing through me
When Im sure theres none that remains
The blood of eden keeps running through me
I can feel it in my bones
That blood of eden keeps rushing through me
Taking back what it owns
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Man and Woman
The Difference between a Man and a Woman;
When Man needs your silver hugs and caressing kisses,
Woman needs your mind as well.
When Man taunts your falls and misses
Woman shares a laughing spell.
When Man tells you all will be right
Woman tells you the mistake.
When Man starts leaving during fight
Woman sees through all that fake
Woman, with her knowing eyes and blowing hair
Man with muscles and puppy smile.
Woman with her bounty fair
Man's will last just for a while.
Which is better; man or woman?
woman or man?
Men are gifts we love to open, while women that we can save.
Now that august is gone
Now that august is gone
And we all know that all augusts come and go
Is this woman? a woman of vertue,
Is this woman? a super woman
Is this woman? a woman of mission and vision
Is this woman? classy and stylish
Is this woman? preffesional or house wife
And the woman of action and motion
A woman of courage and resilence
A woman of liberation and liberty
A woman of passion and compassion
A woman of thoughts and opinions
A woman of empathy and sympathy
A woman of concerns and kindness
.
A woman of confrontation or insecurity
A woman of altracation or tranquility
A woman of ambition or armunition
A woman of redeemtion or detention
A woman of power or affection
Is this woman a woman
I am not questining you, woman!
I was questioning this woman
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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Rope hair woman
Rope hair woman
Where you’re off to tonight
Rope hair woman
You’re lookin’ out of sight
O rope hair woman
I love with all my might
Rope hair woman if you could if you can
Let me be your dread lock man.
Dread lock man
Can you understand
That a rope hair woman
Does all that she can
To move you to that sexual point
Better then your hand
O rope hair woman
Here is my plain
Rope hair woman I will give
Up my womanly man
O rope hair woman
The world can understand
That you want a dread lock man.
poem by David E. Patton
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Milk White, Blood-Red
Gently as wind blows
Sways the beauty of the Milk White rose
Day and night that rose stays
Its beauty drawing people closer
Its thorns keeping them away
The rose stays here
As seasons pass it by
The petals have worn
As the wind made it fly
A single rose seed
Falls onto the ground
And the Milk White rose
Now dead
Gave birth safe and sound
To a rose of Blood Red
poem by Monina Furigay
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Her Desire for 40G
Now back when I was 28,
I met and loved a 38 –
DD!
Hmm…I never really saw her eyes…
Perhaps I never needed to –
‘Twas all about her size.
Come on, be honest,
You really show surprise?
Oh yes, the storyline:
One sunny day she said to me,
‘I need to make you happy, see,
By undergoing surgery
So you can have my guarantee
That when you see my 40G,
You’ll hit new heights of ecstasy! ’
‘Phew! ’ I drew a breath.
‘Well thank you dear, you’re very kind,
But won’t you risk me going blind?
If one of those should catch my eye,
I’m sure to wave them both goodbye;
And after all, you’re rather tall –
With extra weight you’ll likely fall;
Forwards, I should clarify.
Hmm…we’re back again to my poor eye.’
‘It’s all about your precious sight! ’
She screamed at me with all her might,
‘I only want to make you proud
And me to stand out in the crowd.’
‘You do already stand right out!
Any more, then there’s no doubt
You might as well just poke me blind,
So in the streets I’ll tag behind,
Unaware of all the fuss,
Especially when on the bus –
Assuming you could squeeze on board…
Hmm…at least I know I’ll be ignored…
Okay – go get them done.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
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woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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