Which is burdensome?
An old man is bent
Not by the vent of attributes of old age
But by the burden of his memory in store.
31.10.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Hell Bent For Leather
Seek him here, seek him on the highway
Never knowing when hell appear
All await, engines ticking over
Hear the roar as they sense the fear
Wheels! a glint of steel and a flash of light!
Screams! from a streak of fire as he strikes!
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Black as night, faster than a shadowcrimson flare from a raging sun
An exhibition, of sheer precision
Yet no one knows from where he comes
Fools! self destruct cannot take that crown
Dreams! crash one by one to the ground
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Theres many who tried to prove that theyre faster
But they didnt last and they died as they tried
Theres many who tried to prove that theyre faster
But they didnt last and they died as they tried
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Memory Store
We talk about the times
we had there in the past,
and the times that never seemed to last.
They were there for a moment
and then quietly faded away,
and now we remember them
as if they were yesterday.
If only we could bring them back
and the magic, they implored.
Hear the gayety and laughter
around us once more.
Like all good things,
they are gone, locked forever in
our memory store.
Only to be released
on days when life
is down and doubting.
Then we unlock the gilded gates
setting them free once more
from our memory store
so we can dance again
by the light of the moon.
28-29 August 2012
poem by David Harris
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One Thing Leads To Another
How many times have we
thought of one thing that led us to another
within our memory store.
We think of one thing
and our memory links us to another
that may have happened years before.
We sit for a few minutes
as our memory takes us on a trip
through the corridors
of our childhood many years before.
We remember moments
that delighted us at the time
before growing up
took those pleasures away.
Each memory hold a precious moment
we will never see again
except in our memories
when they will take us
down that road again.
27 March 2009
poem by David Harris
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Making Love With Memories
You poked my blurring eye,
Let me lift your mushy breast.
We aged onwards
While you stroked flaccidity –
Recalling decades of
Blood-gorged coming, shuddering to boot.
I kissed a venerable mouth
Crammed with falsities –
Once brilliant keys
Guarded by crimson lips
Washed by a sensual tongue.
And so we writhed in wrinkles,
Tiring effort, and
Memories.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Ellis
You are now like the desirable thing on these attributes of my love,
And like the accessory of a client's privilege;
But the pharmaceuticals could not solve my problem!
And, i am now predominated by a lavished coalition.
Testable!
With the realistic act on a consummated love;
For, you are now like the desirable thing on these attributes of my love.
A cute act of your muse was pre-aforementioned to me with your love!
But, i am like a domicile animal on this act;
However, i do have no disappointments! !
For, much silence is now needed on this case.
Ellis!
These impediments were limited to nature;
But, i am congrously moving along with the act of this love! !
However, you are now like the desirable thing on these attributes of my love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Beauty is a burden
Beauty is as well a burden
To woman as it is an asset
Every woman willingly bears it
As Jesus bore the Cross
28.09.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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April 10,2003
I bind the spirit of slowfulness and
fear, doubt, April 10,2003
I Loose the spirit of obedience April 10,2003
when God speaks are gives instructions
JUMP to IT April 10.2003
I heard that everyday we are writing our obituaries
what story do you are I have to leave about our lives?
poem by Sylvia Loven Carter
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Sleepless
[Originally by Anathema]
And I often sigh
I often wonder why
I'm still here and I still cry
And I often cry
I often spill a tear
Over those not here
But still they are so near
Please ease my burden
And I still remember
A memory and I weep
In my broken sleep
The scars they cut so deep
Please ease my burden
Please ease my pain
Surely without war there would be no loss
Hence no mourning
song performed by by Cradle Of Filth from From The Cradle To Enslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am No Angel
I am no angel
at least I certainly do not feel like one.
I don’t even have
the attributes to be one.
The only thing I have
is a caring heart
and a helping hand
to whomever is in need.
A rascalish sense of humour,
which smiles upon breed.
If they are the attributes of an angel,
then I guess I must be one.
I’m going to leave it up to the reader
to decide as to whether I am an angel
or merely the devil is disguise.
poem by David Harris
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Come As You Are (LP Version)
Come As You Are"
Come, as you are. As you were.
As I want you to be. As a friend.
As a friend. As an old enemy. Take your time.
Hurry up. The choice is yours. Don't be late.
Take a rest. As a friend. As a old memory, memory, memory, memory.
Come. Dowsed in mud. Soaked in bleach.
As I want you to be. As a trend. As a friend.
As an old memory, memory, memory, memory.
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
Memory, memory, memory, memory (don't have a gun).
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun. Memory, memory...
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Le vent
Sur la bruyère longue infiniment,
Voici le vent cornant Novembre ;
Sur la bruyère, infiniment,
Voici le vent
Qui se déchire et se démembre,
En souffles lourds, battant les bourgs ;
Voici le vent,
Le vent sauvage de Novembre.
Aux puits des fermes,
Les seaux de fer et les poulies
Grincent ;
Aux citernes des fermes.
Les seaux et les poulies
Grincent et crient
Toute la mort, dans leurs mélancolies.
Le vent rafle, le long de l'eau,
Les feuilles mortes des bouleaux,
Le vent sauvage de Novembre ;
Le vent mord, dans les branches,
Des nids d'oiseaux ;
Le vent râpe du fer
Et peigne, au loin, les avalanches,
Rageusement du vieil hiver,
Rageusement, le vent,
Le vent sauvage de Novembre.
Dans les étables lamentables,
Les lucarnes rapiécées
Ballottent leurs loques falotes
De vitres et de papier.
- Le vent sauvage de Novembre ! -
Sur sa butte de gazon bistre,
De bas en haut, à travers airs,
De haut en bas, à coups d'éclairs,
Le moulin noir fauche, sinistre,
Le moulin noir fauche le vent,
Le vent,
Le vent sauvage de Novembre.
Les vieux chaumes, à cropetons,
Autour de leurs clochers d'église.
Sont ébranlés sur leurs bâtons ;
Les vieux chaumes et leurs auvents
Claquent au vent,
Au vent sauvage de Novembre.
Les croix du cimetière étroit,
Les bras des morts que sont ces croix,
Tombent, comme un grand vol,
Rabattu noir, contre le sol.
Le vent sauvage de Novembre,
Le vent,
L'avez-vous rencontré le vent,
Au carrefour des trois cents routes,
Criant de froid, soufflant d'ahan,
L'avez-vous rencontré le vent,
Celui des peurs et des déroutes ;
L'avez-vous vu, cette nuit-là,
Quand il jeta la lune à bas,
Et que, n'en pouvant plus,
Tous les villages vermoulus
Criaient, comme des bêtes,
Sous la tempête ?
Sur la bruyère, infiniment,
Voici le vent hurlant,
Voici le vent cornant Novembre.
poem by Emile Verhaeren
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That Last Time
That was the last time
you saw her alive
going into a store
with some guy
you assumed
was her husband
and she looked over at you
as you sat opposite the store
and smiled her smile
like she used to
way back in 62
when it was just
she and you
sitting by the pond
or walking through
the small wood
talking as you used to
with youth on your side
and love hanging on
a chain about your neck
and that was back then
that day you were just
an observer outside
a store watching her
walk by with some other
not knowing Mr Death
was trailing her
even then
that cancer
maybe even as she walked
touching her
with its oily finger
oh how men love and lose
but the great memory
of her will hold
and ever linger.
poem by Terry Collett
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Burdened, when unloaded
When a bird shoots through leaves
And a fruit falls from the twig
A tree might feel relieved.
When a friend of yours turns off
And a child of yours drifts away
You might feel burdened.
A thing worth more than its weight
Gives you burden when unloaded.
08.07.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Properties of love
Love is delicate; even a bead of tear is a burden.
Love is sensitive; even silence is a deadly weapon.
Love is penetrative; even stone turns butter.
Love is suspicious; even an innocent smile wrecks.
30.10.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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911
In loving memory,
of those who went away
Who lefted on 9/11/2003
that gloomy, dreadful day
Leaving hearts filled with sorrow and pain
In so many ways
In millions hearts, they shall
always stay
We are ask God for healing and forgiveness and
a way to cope,
Also love again,
Making the most of each and everyday
Looking ahead and trusting the
heavens to show us a better way
Expecting and believeing
That there are brighter days.
In loving memory forever
911
We remember today and everyday
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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We can easily manage if we will only take, each day, the burden appointed to it. But the load will be too heavy for us if we carry yesterday's burden over again today, and then add the burden of the morrow before we are required to bear it.
quote by John Newton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory (Thy Shall)
Thy shall not slumber,
Thy shall not wake,
A memory so fragile,
So delicate it may break.
A memory so lost,
So unwanted it tears apart,
Until it dies,
It shall go back to thy start.
A powerful memory it may be,
Or a memory that shall be overlooked,
Thy one shall let it see,
How thy memory is like a book.
But how powerful thy memory is,
It has to be stronger than a good memory,
A memory that has passion and feeling,
A memory that has greatness and becoming myself, I, and me.
Until that kind of memory is shown,
Thy memory shall be looked upon near and far,
Thy memory shall be kept hidden,
Until it shall be who we are.
Thy shall not slumber,
Thy shall not wake,
A memory so fragile,
so delicate it may break.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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What's The World Got In Store
Close your eyes and go to sleep, baby
Take your head off your feet, honey
Cause you've been working hard and I know you're tired
You been tryin' hard not to think I'm a liar
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
Come on baby somehow, I need you
Do I have to show you how, baby
I'm not trying to knock you out, or was it about
I just now you need your rest I can't say what's best for you
You been workin' hard and I know you're tired
I've been tryin' hard not to feel like a liar
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
What's the world got in store
What's the world got in store for you
What's the world got in store for you now
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History is not a burden on the memory but an illumination of the soul.
quote by Lord Acton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Master Of Life
He is the master
the master of life
who attributes his success
to all people
he has so far met...
good ones taught him
how to live and
bad ones showed him
how not to
both of them he doesn't forget...
He attributes his success
to all people
he has so far met.....
He is master
the master of life..
he will remain forever...
poem by Mugdha Khedkar
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