Food and waste
From the cradle to the grave,
We gulp every thing as sweat
And after the process of digestion
The food defecates as filth.
The world to a child is honey.
The world to the old turns a filth.
24.12.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fountain Of Filth
There it was
Just like old faithful
The eternal fountain of filthi
I took a walk straight out of town
But then I stopped and took my time for pleasure
I was alone, I looked around
I heard a voice 50 I buckled for safety
And there it was down on the ground
A pool of sound that showed my own reflection
In a fountain of filth
Eternal fountain of filth
I tried to run I couldnt move
Frozen solid while the thoughts of men
Attacked me
Out of my head the fountain shot
And drowned me in a serum that I couldnt
Put a stop to
It was me myself and I locked in a struggle
With the talking head below me
In a fountain of filth
Eternal fountain of filth
I got a hunger that makes me say things
I got a hunger that makes me do things
I got a hunger that makes me want things
Im just a victim of filth
Nowhere are we safe
From the power of
From the reach of
From the appeal of
The eternal fountain of filth
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After The Filth Has Been Filtered
After the filth has been filtered,
And drained from minds forced to open...
There will be more honest discussions,
Attempted and made...
Between those in shadows,
And those accustomed to giving shade.
After the filth has been filtered.
With more uninhibited wishes,
From those who escaped away from those days...
When people were afraid to remove those masks,
Some homemade...
That did not convey true portrayals.
But were worn instead,
To deny and hide themselves with choices to be led.
And after the filth has been filtered,
More of life for them begins.
More of life is felt and shared.
With the necessity of charades and masquerades,
For them to end.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why some don’t regret?
If you cannot regret for your fault
Then you cannot emote to joy too,
And hence is poor to reason too.
You will then be worth nothing but filth.
22.06.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful the Virgin
Beautiful is the virgin, whose tainted purity causes pity in all man's breast.
Innocence there is not, trickery is their everything.
Has no one spared a thought to wonder?
Has no one spared a spark to the imagination?
Beautiful is the virgin, deflowered filth.
Whore to those that pity such filth, anger against those disgusted by filth.
Innocence, an illusion with such vivid imagination, whose trickery is this?
poem by Prince Daugherty
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A World Yet Saved
When | you look at me...
...here's what I see:
a world without hate,
a world without fear,
a world without hunger and sickness and sin.
a world full of love,
a world full of cheer,
a world full of plenty and healing and joy.
When | God looks at us...
...here's what He sees:
a world stained with bad,
a world stained with wrong,
a world stained with blood debt of many a man.
a world filled with filth,
a world filled with soot,
yet a world saved by naught but the blood of Jesus.
Varanasi
Amongst the filth
the sweet sound of the flute player
carries through the heated air
and everywhere,
down the Ghats
at sunrise,
the pilgrims gather
along the sacred river Ganges;
devoted to life,
birth and death.
Here in ancient Varanasi
against the backdropp of temples centuries old,
the soul of man
finds its own way home
amongst the filth.
poem by Diana Rosser
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Crow On The Cradle
(from the soundtrack to no nukes; peformed live by jackson browne with graham nash & david lindley)
The sheeps in the meadow
The cows in the corn
Now is the time for a child to be born
Hell laugh at the moon
And cry for the sun
And if its a boy hell carry a gun
Sang the crow on the cradle
And if it should be that this babys a girl
Never you mind if her hair doesnt curl
With rings on her fingers
And bells on her toes
And a bomber above her wherever she goes
Sang the crow on the cradle
The crow on the cradle
The black and the white
Somebodys baby is born for a fight
The crow on the cradle
The white and the black
Somebodys baby is not coming back
Sang the crow on the cradle
Your mother and father will sweat and theyll slave
To build you a coffin and dig you a grave
Hush-a-bye little one, never you weep
For weve got a toy that can put you to sleep
Sang the crow on the cradle
Bring me my gun, and Ill shoot that bird dead
Thats what your mother and father once said
The crow on the cradle, what can we do
Ah, this is a thing that Ill leave up to you
Sang the crow on the cradle
Sang the crow on the cradle
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Wild-Eyed Child
My wide-eyed child
So sweet are you
Innocent and pure
Untouched by the filth of man
A Baby's Breath for you
My wild-eyed child
With eyes so bright they shine
Open to the world
Open to the universe
A Red Carnation for you
My sleepy-eyed child
Close your little eyes
Drift off to rest
Sleep soundly and well
A White Poppy for you
poem by Autumn Winds
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Village Song
HONEY, child, honey, child, whither are you going?
Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing?
Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you?
Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going,
Where upon the champa boughs the champa buds are blowing;
To the köil-haunted river-isles where lotus lilies glisten,
The voices of the fairy folk are calling me: O listen!
Honey, child, honey, child, the world is full of pleasure,
Of bridal-songs and cradle-songs and sandal-scented leisure.
Your bridal robes are in the loom, silver and saffron glowing,
Your bridal cakes are on the hearth: O whither are you going?
The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences of sorrow,
The laughter of the sun to-day, the wind of death to-morrow.
Far sweeter sound the forest-notes where forest-streams are falling;
O mother mine, I cannot stay, the fairy-folk are calling.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Scars Of Our Past
you say you wana know me,
But do you really?
do you see who i am?
Do you see my scars?
look closer, their carves straight into my arm.
Do you see my pain, the tears, streaming down my face.
you hold me in your arms, tell me you care,
but do you really?
How?
Im covered in their filth from what they've all done to m, no matter how many times i shower the filth wont ever leave, it will never go away. cant you see the scars that my past have left behind.
But thats okay becasue today im choosing to make a stand im leaving my scars and past behind.
poem by Alicia Tschantre
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Rain Falling: 12: 52 PM March 13,2012
As I watch the rain,
I wonder if it could wash
The filth away from the street,
But then I notice
The falling water only
Turns sturdy ground into mud.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Secret World
This is a garden, this is a steeple
I hear the crowd before I ever see the people
Yours for the making, and for the taking
There is a power in the vacuum we are making
You and I have a secret world
And we can keep it unfurled
And pay no attention to the cradle or the grave
And when we're crossed,
We can say that we're lost
In the middle of nowhere think you'll like it a lot
And if we're wrong and we end up alone
We'll light a candle for their innocent bones
You and I have a secret world
And we can keep it unfurled
And pay no attention to the cradle or the grave
You and I have a secret world
And we can keep it unfurled
And pay no attention to the cradle or the grave
And when we're crossed,
We can say that we're lost
In the middle of nowhere think you'll like it a lot
And if we're wrong and we end up alone
We'll light a candle for their innocent bones
You and I have a secret world
And we can keep it unfurled
And pay no attention to the cradle or the grave
And when we're crossed,
We can say that we're lost
In the middle of nowhere think you'll like it a lot
And if we're wrong and we end up alone
We'll light a candle for their innocent bones
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The world turns on
The world turns on
I've walked the deserted streets
The world turns on
I've seen where the monster sleeps
The world turns on
I've seen where the monster eats
The world turns on
We are the monster in it's sleep
The world turns on
Consuming, Unending
Destroying, Reforging
We are the monster in it's sleep
And when we awake
We will be destroyed
And yet
The world turns on
poem by Benjamin Turner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Process in the Weather of the Heart
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.
A process in the eye forwarns
The bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.
A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.
A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.
A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their double shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Any World That I'm Welcome To
If I had my way I would move to another time;
I'd quit my job, ride the train through the misty night-time.
I'll be ready when my feet touch the ground, wherever I come down,
And if the folks will have me, then they'll have me.
Any world that I'm welcome to [any kind of world]
Any world that I'm welcome to
Any world that I'm welcome to
Is better than the one I come from.
I can hear your words when you speak of what you are and have seen;
I can see your hand reaching out through a shining daydream.
Where the days and nights are not the same, captured happy in a picture frame;
Honey, I will be there, yes, I'll be there.
[chorus]
I got this thing inside me that's got to find a place to hide me.
I only know I must obey this feeling I can't explain away.
I think I'll go to the park, watch the children playing;
Perhaps I'll find in my head what my heart is saying.
A vision of a child returning, in a kingdom where the sky is burning;
Honey, I will be there, yes, I'll be there.
[chorus]
Is better than the one I come from.
Is better than the one I come from.
Any world that I'm welcome to. [any kind of world] x ad lib [fade]
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The world to humans
The child takes the world as a
Sweetmeat in its mouth,
Chews and digest it while it grows
And as old, finds the world as filthy
Lump in its anus.
The world is not dear
To the departing souls.
19.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A Lady Who Was Libell'd.
When Cynthia, Regent of the Tides,
Pale in meridian Pride presides;
A Sov'reign Pow'r the Goddess claims
O'er Seas, and Sea--supplying Streams;
The River of the richest Source
With Ease she turns, and checks his Course;
His crystal Clearness can defile
With ev'ry Filth, and Salt as vile;
However strong, and smooth, and pure,
Her Tyranny he must endure;
Till, her Dominion in the Wain,
He clears, and is himself again.
Thus, over black, benighted Brains,
Fell Envy, baleful Goddess, reigns;
O'er mortal Passions, pale, presides;
Passions, the Soul's tumultuous Tides;
Which, in their fierce, resistless Sway,
Invade all Merit in their Way;
With Ease the clearest Truths confute,
With Ease the purest Worth pollute;
Check ev'ry Virtue in its Course,
And taint, impetuous, to its Source,
The Current of the fairest Fame,
By forcing Filth into the Stream.
So are you sully'd for a Season,
Till Rage recoils, and yields to Reason:
Then turns the Tide--your Credit clears,
And all your real Worth appears.
poem by Mary Barber
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Justice Done
Do you fear what I fear?
Justice blind is what I fear
slashing lives and then thrown away...
Sitting high above me
ruling thumbs above me
your time has come today.
Your slashing down the tree of liberty
always keep on pounding me
but I'll never go away.
When you step upon me
that's when with grinning teeth
your bones into the dust I'll play.
I am world decay
I have gone insane
Mark upon my grave
'Justice done today'
Do you feel the life of me
flowing from the liberty
draining me of father’s sanity?
Sitting back with cunning stunts
Laughing `till delirious
could it be they eat their own brain?
Posture back without guilt
Wash me clean of your filth
Apathy’s children do multiply.
Sit and watch them harder
They never seem to bother
To clear the head of their lies.
I am world decay
I have gone insane
Mark upon my grave
'Justice done today'
poem by Barbara Vanier
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The filth of the culture.
Beggars are a few who beg for food.
Beggars are a few who beg for money.
Beggars are plenty who beg for acceptance.
It reflects the filth of the culture.
10.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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My Heart's Song
Absalon, my son, that I could have died for you, my son.
Life holds no pleasure, let me descent to hell, weeping
Grove of Tuoni, grove of evening,
There a sandy cradle is waiting,
There I will carry my child.
There the child is free from sorrow
In the wood, in the meadow
Tending the cattle of Tuoni.
There my child is free from sorrow
When the evening casts it's shadow
Rocked in the cradle of Tuoni.
There my child is free from sorrow,
Lulled to sleep by a birdsong mellow,
Rocked in a cradle of gold.
Peace of Tuoni, far from passion
Far away from man's oppression
Far from the treacherous world.
poem by Aleksis Kivi
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