The ever crowned
Socrates was put to death;
He was charged to have corrupted the youth.
Giordano was burnt to death.
He was charged to have been a heretic.
Such statesmen weren’t crowned at their time.
Since then they’ve been crowned unlike their kings.
29.04.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Name, not stuff, carries
She charged fees in thousands.
Now she demands in millions
As she has been crowned Miss World.
Your pulse, not her flesh, rates.
23.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coronation—To King Edward VII
If thou be crowned, or if thou be not crowned
With that imperial round
Thy forbears from the distant ages wore,
Sorrow and suffering for thee have earned
A guerdon fairer than thy hope discerned;
And through renunciation, thou hast found
A cirque of sovereignty not dreamed before.
If thou be crowned? Nay, thou art crowned now;
For, lo! upon thy brow,
So lately shadowed by Death's mournful wing,
A mighty people's sympathy has laid
An aureole whose brightness shall not fade:
Whose light, more worth than chrism, or seal, or vow,
Sceptre or throne, makes thee, indeed, a King!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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San Miniato
SEE, I have climbed the mountain side
Up to this holy house of God,
Where once that Angel-Painter trod
Who saw the heavens opened wide,
And throned upon the crescent moon
The Virginal white Queen of Grace,--
Mary! could I but see thy face
Death could not come at all too soon.
O crowned by God with thorns and pain!
Mother of Christ! O mystic wife!
My heart is weary of this life
And over-sad to sing again.
O crowned by God with love and flame!
O crowned by Christ the Holy One!
O listen ere the searching sun
Show to the world my sin and shame.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Drugs
And all I see is little dots
Some are smeared and some are spots
Feels like a murder but thats alright
Somebody said theres too much light
Pull down the shade and its alright
Itll be over in a minute or two.
Im charged up...dont put me down
Dont feel like talking...dont mess around
I feel mean...i feel o.k.
Im charged up...electricity
The boys are making a big mess
This makes the girls all start to laugh
I dont know what theyre talking about
The boys are worried, the girls are shocked
They pick the sound and let it drop
Nobody know what theyre talking about
Im charged up...Im kinda wooden
Im barely moving...i study motion
I study myself...i fooled myself
Im charged up...its pretty intense.
Im charged up...dont put me down
Dont feel like talking...dont mess around
I feel mean...i feel o.k.
Im charged up...electricity.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Embodied Tempest
A gray stormy sky matched my mood;
its violent, tempestuous
streaks of discontinuous light
fired across a charged atmosphere
soon answered by thunderous claps.
My mood is not unlike the storm:
It is emotionally charged,
unrestrained and prone to tantrums
that spark an electricity
too powerful to be controlled;
and like the tempest where wind blows
and precipitation follows
so too does my angry blowups
injure causing a flood of tears.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Death’s Too Near
Death, you’re standing rather near!
Don’t you understand the fear
You trigger deep within my soul–?
The terror sprung by such a ghoul
Of dark and hideous hue!
Now you’re rattling on my door!
I’m sure I threw you out before –
Methinks you really need to learn!
So leg it please and ne’er return
To haunt me ‘gain, now shoo!
Gain a sense of social pride, and
Keep your bearing far and wide –
Perform the deed when I am done –
Be free and loose to have your fun
When I’m too frail to turn and run,
But now I’ve living to do!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death
Death, death, nearing death
Death, death, death
Death, death
Death
Death, death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Bigamy
You are charged with bigamy and,
I am also charged as well;
But Todzo came to explain things at hand,
For i mt my other lover in the bush without care!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
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Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guilty
Guilty, guilty
Guilty, I'm paralyzed with guilt
It runs through me like a rain through silk
Guilty, my mind won't leave me alone
My teeth are rotted
my lips start to foam
Cause I'm so guilty
Guilty, guilty
Ooohhh guilty
What did I say
What did I say
What did I do
Did I ever do it to you
Don't turn your back, ah
I can't look you in the eye, ah
Eye eye eye eye
I guess I'm guilty as charged
I guess I'm guilty as charged
Guilty, huh, guilty ah, guilty ah, guilty
Guilty guilty guilty guilty guilty
Don't do that
Don't do that
Don't do what
Oh you're such a child
real fool child
Guilty
What can I do
I do it to you
but I do it to me too
Cut off my head
Cut off my head
Cut off my head, ah
Hang me from the yardarm
Guilty, I'm paralyzed with guilt
I've got bad thoughts
I've got an evil clit
Guilty
Guilty, my mind won't leave me alone
I've got a bad mind
I've got a bad bone
Guilty guilty guilty as charged
Guilty
Don't do that
Don't do what
Don't do that
Oh you're such a reckless child
You remember when you were a baby
Do you remember when you were a baby
Do you have a jury, yeah
Do you have a verdict
Guilty as charged
Guilty guilty guilty as charged
Do you have a verdict
Do you have a verdict
I'm guilty
You're guilty
Oh you're such a reckless child
I should beat you
I should hit you
I'll put you in therapy, ah
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To all of us who have been charged, we all agree that we don't feel like we were doing things that we weren't supposed to, because we were told to do them. We think everything was justified, because we were instructed to do this and to do that.
quote by Lynndie England
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man need be charged
A woman in a blue-film, with her flesh
A heroine in a movie, with her looks,
A woman in love with you, with her hormones
Charge you to be active with your wife,
You are thus charged to glow.
For wife to be lit
Let her mate be charged fit
01.09.2000, Pkmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Punishment
There never really was a place of sanctity
For you, the mortal entity.
You thought you had prosperity,
The while you thrived and were.
Angels don't exist, you see.
You lived without a guarantee
Atop your brutal Earth.
Still, you had a birth.
And whither now, your crying whim -?
Answered by a tearing limb-?
Are you contrite; your valour slim?
And will He care...?
'Tis down to Him.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter,2009
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bells and Queen Victoria
1911
"Gay go up and gay go down
To ring the Bells of London Town."
When London Town's asleep in bed
You'll hear the Bells ring overhead.
In excelsis gloria!
Ringing for Victoria,
Ringing for their mighty mistress--ten years dead!
THE BELLS:
Here is more gain than Gloriana guessed--
Then Gloriana guessed or Indies bring--
Then golden Indies bring. A Queen confessed--
A Queen confessed that crowned her people King.
Her people King, and crowned a11 Kings above,
Above a11 Kings have crowned their Queen their love--
Have crowned their love their Queen, their Queen their love!
Denying her, we do ourselves deny,
Disowning her are we ourselves disowned.
Mirror was she of our fidelity,
And handmaid of our destiny enthroned;
The very marrow of Youth's dream, and still
Yoke-mate of wisest Age that worked her will!
Our fathers had declared to us her praise--
Her praise the years had proven past all speech.
And past all speech our loyal hearts always,
Always our hearts lay open, each to each--
Therefore men gave the treasure of their blood
To this one woman--for she understood!
Four o' the clock! Now all the world is still.
Oh, London Bells, to all the world declare
The Secret of the Empire--read who will!
The Glory of the People--touch who dare!
THE BELLS:
Power that has reached itself all kingly powers,
St. Margaret's: By love o'erpowered--
St. Martin's: By love o'erpowered--
St. Clement Danes: By love o'erpowered,
The greater power confers!
THE BELLS:
For we were hers, as she, as she was ours,
Bow Bells: And she was ours--
St. Paul's: And she was ours--
Westminister: And she was ours,
As we, even we, were hers!
THE BELLS
As we were hers!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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the crown of the love in the place (TAJMAHAL)
Tajmahal
Where is the love crowned
Place
where the trone of the love
is belong
Over the curse of the time
And the death
poem by Sallam Yassin
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Death, My Friend
Death, my friend - so good to see you!
Stand aloft and view my soul!
I have to say you’re looking frightful -
Bony chum, you affable ghoul.
Death, my friend, so charmed I’m sure!
State your case and tell me straight -
Am I worthy of reward, so
Venture I to Heaven’s Gate?
Death, my friend, a new acquaintance!
You're always welcome in my home -
Though the stare from empty sockets
Indicates to Hell we roam!
Death, my friend - my bosom buddy.
My! your finger points at me!
Be you tired of my frivolity?
Aha, I see - Oblivion, we!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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Death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Lone Pine
Lone Pine! Lone Pine! Our hearts are numbly aching
For those who come no more,
Our boys who sleep the sleep that knows no waking,
Besides the Dardan’s shore.
Through all the years, with glory sad and sombre,
Their names will deathless shine;
No bugle call can wake them from their slumber:
Lone Pine! Lone Pine!
They did not quail, they did not pause or ponder,
They counted not the odds;
The order came, the foe were waiting yonder,
The rest was with the gods.
Forth from their trenches at the signal leaping,
They charged the Turkish line,
And death charged too, a royal harvest reaping,
Lone Pine! Lone Pine!
Nought could withstand that onrush, backward
driven,
The foemen broke and fled.
poem by Edward Harrington
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