Antrim
No spot of earth where men have so fiercely for ages of time
Fought and survived and cancelled each other,
Pict and Gael and Dane, McQuillan, Clandonnel, O'Neill,
Savages, the Scot, the Norman, the English,
Here in the narrow passage and the pitiless north, perpetual
Betrayals, relentless resultless fighting.
A random fury of dirks in the dark: a struggle for survival
Of hungry blind cells of life in the womb.
But now the womb has grown old, her strength has gone forth;
a few red carts in a fog creak flax to the dubs,
And sheep in the high heather cry hungrily that life is hard; a
plaintive peace; shepherds and peasants.
We have felt the blades meet in the flesh in a hundred ambushes
And the groaning blood bubble in the throat;
In a hundred battles the heavy axes bite the deep bone,
The mountain suddenly stagger and be darkened.
Generation on generation we have seen the blood of boys
And heard the moaning of women massacred,
The passionate flesh and nerves have flamed like pitch-pine and
fallen
And lain in the earth softly dissolving.
I have lain and been humbled in all these graves, and mixed new
flesh with the old and filled the hollow of my mouth
With maggots and rotten dust and ages of repose. I lie here and
plot the agony of resurrection.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Time Leak
For centuries
we have lain like this,
our warmths intermingled,
our hearts beating
the same two-step,
& our breaths
& our limbs
intertwined.
Life after life,
I return to flesh
to join my flesh
to your flesh.
Sometimes I am the woman
& you the man;
sometimes,
the other way around.
It hardly matters.
Flesh after flesh,
our spirits return
to mingle.
Death is no barrier
& life's noisy matinee
where the suburban ladies
cough & sputter
& their programs crackle like kindling
merely goes on & on.
They sit on their deaths
as if they were sitting
on fur coats,
while we touch
for the first time
remembering
the next.
poem by Erica Jong
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Blood From A Stone
Well Ive been walkin
Down a one way dirty street
Tryin to find the answers
And Ive been hopin
For a chance to meet
The rat that spread the cancer
And the lies theyve been spinnin
And the smiles theyve been grinnin
There sure has been some sinnin
But nobodys winnin
When the walls start to crumblin
You feel like youre stumblin
And nobody wants you when youre down
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
Well Im a rollin
But my trains gone off the tracks
And my wheels are spinnin
And Im a walkin
Down a one way dirty street
But my hearts not sinkin
From the love theyve been buyin
And the blues theyve been cryin
Now the time keeps a flyin
But nobodys tryin
Cause the love of the money
Didnt turn out so sunny
When the wells dry
No one comes around
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone
You can try
But I still got the fight in my eyes
Suck it dry
Cause Ive had about enough of your lies
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get blood from a stone
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone, no
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
song performed by by Cinderella
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scotland's Story
Michael McGrory from west Donegal
You came to Glasgow with nothing at all
You fought the landlord then the Afrika Korps
When you came to Glasgow with nothing at all
Abraham Caplan from Vilnius you came
You were heading for New York, but Leith's where you've stayed
You built a great business which benefits all
Since you came to this land with nothing at all
In Scotland's story I read that they came
The Gael and the Pict, the Angle and Dane
But so did the Irishman, Jew and Ukraine
They're all Scotland's story and they're all worth the same
Joseph D'Angelo dreams of the days
When Italian kids in the Grassmarket played
We burned out his shop when the boys went to war
But auld Joe's a big man and he forgave all
In Scotland's story I'm told that they came
The Gael and the Pict, the Angle and Dane
But where's all the Chinese and Indian names?
They're in my land's story and they're all worth the same
Christina McKay, I learned of your name
How you travelled south from Delny one day
You raised a whole family in one room they say
And the X on the line stands in place of your name
So in the old story I'll bet that I came
From Gael and Pict and Angle and Dane
And a poor migrant girl who could not write her name
It's a common old story, but it's mine just the same
All through the story the immigrants came
The Gael and the Pict, the Angle and Dane
From Pakistan, England and from the Ukraine
We're all Scotland's story and we're all worth the same
Your Scotland's story is worth just the same
song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ossian’s Grave
PREHISTORIC MONUMENT NEAR CUSHENDALL
IN ANTRIM
Steep up in Lubitavish townland stands
A ring of great stones like fangs, the shafts of the stones
Grown up with thousands of years of gradual turf,
The fangs of the stones still biting skyward; and hard
Against the stone ring, the oblong enclosure
Of an old grave guarded with erect slabs; gray rocks
Backed by broken thorn-trees, over the gorge of Glenaan;
It is called Ossian's Grave. Ossian rests high then,
Haughtily alone.
If there were any fame or burial or monument
For me to envy,
Warrior and poet they should be yours and yours.
For this is the pure fame, not caged in a poem,
Fabulous, a glory untroubled with works, a name in the north
Like a mountain in the mist, like Aura
Heavy with heather and the dark gray rocks, or Trostan
Dark purple in the cloud: happier than what the wings
And imperfections of work hover like vultures
Above the carcass.
I also make a remembered name;
And I shall return home to the granite stones
On my cliff over the greatest ocean
To be blind ashes under the butts of the stones:
As you here under the fanged limestone columns
Are said to lie, over the narrow north straits
Toward Scotland, and the quick-tempered Moyle. But written
reminders
Will blot for too long a year the bare sunlight
Above my rock lair, heavy black birds
Over the field and the blood of the lost battle.
Oh but we lived splendidly
In the brief light of day
Who now twist in our graves.
You in the guard of the fanged
Erect stones; and the man-slayer
Shane O'Neill dreams yonder at Cushendun
Crushed under his cairn;
And Hugh McQuillan under his cairn
By his lost field in the bog on Aura;
And I a foreigner, one who has come to the country of the dead
Before I was called,
To eat the bitter dust of my ancestors;
And thousands on tens of thousands in the thronged earth
Under the rotting freestone tablets
At the bases of broken round towers;
And the great Connaught queen on her mountain-summit
The high cloud hoods, it creeps through the eyes of the cairn,
We dead have our peculiar pleasures, of not
Doing, of not feeling, of not being.
Enough has been felt, enough done, Oh and surely
Enough of humanity has been. We lie under stones
Or drift through the endless northern twilights
And draw over our pale survivors the net of our dream.
All their lives are less
Substantial than one of our deaths, and they cut turf
Or stoop in the steep
Short furrows, or drive the red carts, like weeds waving
Under the glass of water in a locked bay,
Which neither the wind nor the wave nor their own will
Moves; when they seem to awake
It is only to madden in their dog-days for memories of dreams
That lost all meaning many centuries ago.
Oh but we lived splendidly
In the brief light of day,
You with hounds on the mountain
And princes in palaces,
I on the western cliff
In the rages of the sun:
Now you lie grandly under your stones
But I in a peasant's hut
Eat bread bitter with the dust of dead men;
The water I draw at the spring has been shed for tears
Ten thousand times,
Or wander through the endless northern twilights
From the rath to the cairn, through fields
Where every field-stone's been handled
Ten thousand times,
In a uterine country, soft
And wet and worn out, like an old womb
That I have returned to, being dead.
Oh but we lived splendidly
Who now twist in our graves.
The mountains are alive;
Tievebuilleagh lives, Trostan lives,
Lurigethan lives;
And Aura, the black-faced sheep in the belled heather;
And the swan-haunted loughs; but also a few of us dead
A life as inhuman and cold as those.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bridge
i stared across the bridge,
lantern held high...
searching the trees and
the shadows for a sign.
the surging river below
made my heart stamp its feet;
the wind blew, almost moaned,
the bridge groaned as it swayed.
taking off my boots,
i crossed barefooted and sure.
looking down, i could not see rocks,
but i knew they were there...
on the other side the damp dirt
felt good to my feet...
i followed the path down,
ever down... a wolf howled!
i came to a clearing,
made out the form of your hut...
dark and still, almost a womb.
i made my way to the door,
my trembling hand on the knob...
unlocked, the door opened.
staring around the darkened room,
nothing moved, only a lone candle
on the table beside the bed.
i could feel the stare
of your hungry eyes...
heard you whisper, 'come here! '
a thousand battles,
and journeys untold,
forgotten in the warmth
of your flesh...
new stars formed
in a limitless sky,
fell and shattered
as we loved!
the groan of the earth,
the moan of the wind,
the fury of storms unleashed.
holding back, holding back,
till there was no return...
dissolving into the fire
of your pulsing depths...
and all of life, finished!
with the morning light,
i found myself alone...
got up and dressed
with the ache and the taste...
as i left the hut,
i turned to see the owl...
set my chin, braced my mind,
and walked to face the coming snow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dark Ages
I am coming out of dark ages
And I lived half way through my life
Also I got my hand dirty in the mud a long time ago
I did it and got my tshirt and that job is over
I am coming out of dark ages
Because I spent most of my life in dark ages
And I saw so many dark skies while I went through my life in dark ages
I am coming ou of the dark ages
To help the children in their daily life
By teaching what is right and wrong
Because the children needs to learn what is right and wrong
So they don't became a criminal when they grew up
Because here on earrth are full of criminals already and we have more than What we can handle
I am coming out of the dark ages
To show my love to the children that lives here on the earth with us
I am coming out of the dark ages
Because I want to play with the children everyday here on the earth Because I know that I can make the children happy for once
poem by Aldo Kraas
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A Gift of Lovers' Red Rose!
Lovers exchange red roses for Valentine's Day;
Why only Red Rose and Red Heart greeting cards?
Red is colour of blood vital for human survival!
Impure, used, blue blood turns pure red blood
By vital heart of body of flesh and bone in all!
Blood circulating all over in the body brings air
Fresh, pure and life supporting oxygen for man
Pumped and purified by heart ever till all life!
Red heart and rose denote vital heart, red blood
To keep this human body of flesh, bone and blood
Ever healthy, happy and hopeful of joy in all life!
Heart with Red Rose greets lovers with joy long
On Valentine's Day to celebrate love in life ever
Starting from Lovers' Day on all round the year!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Your Flesh Is So Nice
(j.buckley)
I want to tell you a story
About a little cutey
She's ass-slappin' pretty
And voluptous fingers
Wanna let her lick me
Stick the thick of my pussy
From across the street
She looks good enough to eat me
Kitty! your flesh is so nice
Your flesh is so nice
Let me take a bite
Your flesh is so nice.
Oh, i take off my belt
Oh, i whip the staircase
(whip the staircase)
Kill all the men
Everything's dead to them
You're the only one i follow
Come on and let me give you that "o".
Your flesh is so nice
I wanna take you twice
Your flesh is so nice
Oooo your flesh is so nice
Your flesh is so nice
Wanna take a bite
Your flesh is so nice
Your flesh is so
Your flesh is so
Your flesh is so
Your flesh is so
Nice
(repeat)
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 90 part 1
v.1-5
C. M.
Man frail, and God eternal.
Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.
Under the shadow of thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is thine arm alone,
And our defence is sure.
Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.
Thy word commands our flesh to dust,
"Return, ye sons of men:"
All nations rose from earth at first,
And turn to earth again.
A thousand ages in thy sight
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.
[The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downwards by the flood,
And lost in following years.
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the op'ning day.
Like flowery fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower's hand
Lie with'ring ere 'tis night.]
Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 49
The rich sinner's death, and the saint's resurrection.
Why do the proud insult the poor,
And boast the large estates they have?
How vain are riches to secure
Their haughty owners from the grave!
They can't redeem one hour from death,
With all the wealth in which they trust;
Nor give a dying brother breath,
When God commands him down to dust.
There the dark earth and dismal shade
Shall clasp their naked bodies round;
That flesh, so delicately fed,
Lies cold and moulders in the ground.
Like thoughtless sheep the sinner dies,
Laid in the grave for worms to eat:
The saints shall in the morning rise,
And find th' oppressor at their feet.
His honors perish in the dust,
And pomp and beauty, birth and blood:
That glorious day exalts the just
To full dominion o'er the proud.
My Savior shall my life restore,
And raise me from my dark abode;
My flesh and soul shall part no more,
But dwell for ever near my God.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Bones of a Bad girl
Flesh to flesh
Thoughts to thoughts
Bad girl, bad thoughts
Bad girl wants to touch flesh
But bad man slaps hand away
Bad deeds, good thoughts
No flesh for bad girl
Girls do not touch, thoughts unwelcome
Boys touch flesh, no bad boys
Friends who hold hands, bad girls
Boys who touch girl, good thoughts, warm flesh
Girls crave flesh, bad bad girl
Flesh turns cold, bad thoughts
No way out, big trouble
Flesh is melted, distorted, explored
Thoughts revere, devilish girl
Boys do deeds, good thoughts
Girl slapped on the wrist, more bad
Boys given treats, deeds undone
Girls have bad thoughts, naught arms purple
Flesh dark circles, sketches, screams
Bad wirls with thoughts and deeds, girl want flesh
No flesh is for free, girls still scream
poem by Kelsey Wallace
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Constipated Conscious
Pranab k c
23/09/2011
talent makes you different
but common you in flesh
when touch I the switch
just above your chin
fire shows me the song
last I got from obscene
when talent dominates the flesh
desert flashes with sandy storming
when flesh dominates the talent
it gets another passage of streaming
since you is one as one is me
come on touch the soil
where stone and dust
peacefully coexisting
stone become dust
and dust becomes stone
need quakes fit high
with deep drifting
talent needs flesh to play with string
and flesh blows fire to ignite playing
nothing common is the game
nothing singular is the passion
it is law we are standing
what gravitation plays unseen
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Pause
Pursuit of a desire
in the middle of philosophizing
life was an absurd idea.
I was drawing a relationship
between reality and death.
Learning from destruction brings a pause,
holding the hyphenating truth.
The energy flows in voices
of charity under the flowering words.
When you slur over a depreciation.
no one knows a bias.
The bridge was incomplete and walls were high.
The decay spilled out of the house, removing rotten beams.
The first and last economy
of throat sinks in
the mud of heavy propaganda.
It was not exactly a storm,
only hollow drums
beating for the drifting night.
The blood drops falling
on the moonlit earth.
The questions remain unanswered
who were the killers
of prophets and saints?
Who had changed the flesh?
poem by Satish Verma
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My Generation
This is my generation
an abomination
to my God and morality
they blind their eyes in an attempt to not see
the weight of their sin, and magnitude of their wrong
they parade it around, and praise it in song
glorifying their flesh and burning their conscience
and hence
they feel they've done no wrong and no sin
so the saying has come true: 'In last days men will call evil good and good evil'
in the old testament peopl tore their clothes
and dusted their head with ash
when their generation scorned God brazenly
but what can i do?
I pray yes, but my generation makes me want to cry
as they forsake our Lord on high
creator of the Earth! forgotten...
abandoned and insulted, falsified and ignored
humanity abhorred
what would it mean if i tore my clothes
in my day and my generation no one would care
they dont understand the symbol
what can i do for my generation i cannot help
but cry, cry out and yelp
but no avail
i fear it istoo late and useless to say.... i fail
because my generation loves sin
everyday Jesus bleeds anew on that cross
and they remain cross
unphased they nail Him up with no remorse
and stay the course
that leads them to death... now he bleeds and my clothes feel loose
ripping them won't help... i feel as if im partly responsible for all that
dripping the blood comes... everyday fresh and new how can they kill
themselves, screw themselves and kill Him, the only one who truly loves them
their willful sin makes me wonder about amazing grace
their rebellion is a disgrace
to all humanity
this is my generation
and these
my people
my
generation-
generation
me
poem by David Knox
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Dead Cow Farm
An ancient saga tells us how
In the beginning the First Cow
(For nothing living yet had birth
But Elemental Cow on earth)
Began to lick cold stones and mud:
Under her warm tongue flesh and blood
Blossomed, a miracle to believe:
And so was Adam born, and Eve.
Here now is chaos once again,
Primeval mud, cold stones and rain.
Here flesh decays and blood drips red,
And the Cow’s dead, the old Cow’s dead.
poem by Robert Graves
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Flesh n Blood
Over time Ive come to feel
That everything must come apart it seems
From the little child to the man of power
From the beggar to the angel of my dreams
From the thinnest thread we are sewn together
From the finest string we dangle over time
From the highest wire do we walk through fire
Should our balance ever falter
Should our steps be unaligned
Such a big storm yeah such a strong wind blowing
Such a loud voice calling for me to cross the line
Chorus
But Im not gonna give up the ghost
No, not gonna give up the ghost
Im not gonna give up the ghost, no not gonna give it up
cause I havent the strength to hold out too long
If we both hold on together we can make each other strong
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh
Drop the mask take away the house
And forget about the income and the car
Were all the same underneath our shell
Weve all been to hell and we know what its like
And weve shared each others sins
We all know what its like to give up the fight
Weve all been ashamed at one time or another
We all have dreams and nightmares too
When it all comes down well look out for each other
(no one else will)
But when I hear the call when I feel the thirst
When the catcher comes to take my soul
Hes gonna have to fight me first
Chorus
Every cloud has a silver lining
And every soul is tender to the touch
We are made of stone, we are made of steel
And were all the same when we return to dust
But when I hear the call when I feel the thirst
When the catcher comes to take my soul
Hes gonna have to fight me first . . .
Chorus out
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All All And All The Dry Worlds Lever
I
All all and all the dry worlds lever,
Stage of the ice, the solid ocean,
All from the oil, the pound of lava.
City of spring, the governed flower,
Turns in the earth that turns the ashen
Towns around on a wheel of fire.
How now my flesh, my naked fellow,
Dug of the sea, the glanded morrow,
Worm in the scalp, the staked and fallow.
All all and all, the corpse's lover,
Skinny as sin, the foaming marrow,
All of the flesh, the dry worlds lever.
II
Fear not the waking world, my mortal,
Fear not the flat, synthetic blood,
Nor the heart in the ribbing metal.
Fear not the tread, the seeded milling,
The trigger and scythe, the bridal blade,
Nor the flint in the lover's mauling.
Man of my flesh, the jawbone riven,
Know now the flesh's lock and vice,
And the cage for the scythe-eyed raver.
Know, O my bone, the jointed lever,
Fear not the screws that turn the voice,
And the face to the driven lover.
III
All all and all the dry worlds couple,
Ghost with her ghost, contagious man
With the womb of his shapeless people.
All that shapes from the caul and suckle,
Stroke of mechanical flesh on mine,
Square in these worlds the mortal circle.
Flower, flower the people's fusion,
O light in zenith, the coupled bud,
And the flame in the flesh's vision.
Out of the sea, the drive of oil,
Socket and grave, the brassy blood,
Flower, flower, all all and all.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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The Army
They wanted a man
made from steel
or titanium would have
suited much better,
unfortunately I am
of flesh and bone and blood
and have a heart for peace
and could not become
a mere killing machine.
We marched up
and down the hill
and up again
and for nobody it was a thrill
and drove across the border
and came back
and some were wounded,
crippled, blind and dead
and those alive
were much different
from who they were before.
I wanted them to leave me
in peace,
but they still
kept calling me
for another stint and some more
and there was no way out
and suddenly it all changed
and although we won
all the battles and the war
we lost it all
and lost much more
from ourselves
and the sacrifices
did not matter.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Im Just A Man
(backing vocals by billie godfrey & caroline mackendrick)
Im just a man
My will is so strong
When Ive got plans
I close my eyes to the pain
My mother ran
My father left town
But we still have
Whats necessary to go on
Flesh and blood
Flesh and blood
Im part of you
Youre part of me
Theres nothing said
That cannot be undone
My brothers sane
His heart is so strong
Hes killed some pain
To himself nearly did the same
It washed away
Into the cruel sea
Like everything
Thats built upon the sand
Flesh and blood
Flesh and blood
Sweet sister t
She loved so long and hard
Kept to herself
Until that right man came along
Some men they lie
Some men they cheat
But now shes found
Someone to be as strong
Im just a man
My will is so strong
When Ive got plans
I close my eyes to the pain
My father ran
(flesh and blood)
My mother left town
But we still have
(flesh and blood)
Whats necessary to go on
Im part of you
Youre part of me
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Flesh And Blood
In flesh and blood
you continually smile at me,
in flesh and blood
at times you awake a kind of glare,
you walk past as a picture
that brings a kind of joy,
in flesh and blood.
poem by Gert Strydom
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