Having a ciggi on the wall
Upon the wall of death I scowl,
where the City air is foul,
so what does it matter if I inhale
I'm going to die soon, anyhow.
The local factory joins in too
its chimneys billow smoke anew
that make the locals cough and spew,
while rushing by to catch the tube.
The wall's my death bed, truth be known
not comfortable or soft or warm
as all my lungs fill up with grime,
this city life's a bloody crime.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Related quotes
The City Sings the Song of Death
The City sings the song of Death
Death that roams in the streets
Fearless and merciless, its hands smeared with blood
Its clothes drenched, its desire insatiable
It yearns for more bodies, for more and more
And yet more
The City sings the song of Death
A song whose tragic pitch would scare of birds
Were they to listen to its harrowing cadence
A song that makes babies cry and disturbs the old
A song that is sung by every one who lives in the city of Death
In fear, in pain, in terror
For Death itself has come to life
For Death itself, unchained and unchecked, roams around freely
Who shall now question Death?
The City sings the song of Death
My City sings the song of Death
I too sing the song of Death
And so do the millions that live with me
In the City of Death
poem by Abdul Samad
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It Is Love Still, There Is No Other...
i accompany you to a wall
i know this wall fully well
it walled me since i was small,
and then i fall in love with you
and you feel the same wall despite the openness of the port of
the city where our love boat is docked
despite the songs of seagulls
despite the softness of my hands cupping your breasts
you ask me to explain about this wall
and so i am taking you there
for you to see
the wall has become thicker and higher
walling me since ages then
and it stares at me
asking, if i have learned about love at all?
if i have really love you? if i really love myself
despite the blindness that the wall is giving me
all my life
the wall is teasing me in front of you
i am ashamed
but i do not give up and hand all my life
without a fight to this wall
and i look at you
and i tell the wall your name
'here is my savior
have pity, she does not know a wall
she has not lived there once
she does not know your name
she cannot feel your
loneliness
she will die
she does not know a fight
against the wall'
and then there is silence
like an ocean's trench
the wall opens a door
some tears are left on the stairs
'it is love still, there is no other' the wind
sings to the highest cliff
on that mountain of
death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Suffocation
Suffocation
The smoke of unknown origin
By fast but slow speed
Rampageously traversed
Across the heart of the city
Diffused people’s mouth, nose and throat
Straight into the lungs
Forced to surrender
Agonistic
In order to resist
The irresistible
Smoke and noise
The heart of the city
Abandoned in the restlessly
Polluted
Tumor of smell and noise
Pus
Metrorrhagia
Sinking the city
Migrate the people
Collapsed the sky
The black teardrops
Down along the wall
poem by Catherine Yen
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Dangerous
Dangerous
You can see them on the corners
They are short and tall (and tall)
And everybody warns us
They are over the wall (over the wall)
They are every color, every race
They are fat and thin (and thin)
They are hanging out in every place
And they are thinking in (thinking in) (? )
Dangerous
We are all over the city
Dangerous
cause weve got nothing to do
Decadence in dark blue pants
Beating on the beat
(? ) 45s
Its where the thick boys meet (thick boys meet)
Dangerous
cause were down and dirty
Dangerous
And were looking for you
Everybody knows
That when that bad man shows
were gonna beat that beat that someone to death
were gonna beat that someone to death
were gonna beat that beat that someone to death
were gonna beat that someone to death
Everybody knows
That when that whistle blows
were gonna beat that beat that someone to death
were gonna beat that someone to death
were gonna beat that beat that someone to death
were gonna beat that someone to death
Theyre after us
Thats everyone
Theyre looking after (? )
They are down at (? ) having fun
The dont know wrong from right
Dangerous
We are all over the city
Dangerous
cause weve got nothing to do
Were not talking me and you
These are the (? )
Dangerous
We are all over the city
Dangerous
cause weve got nothing to do
Dangerous
cause were down and dirty
Dangerous
And were looking for you
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It’s called the inner city
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
Thin walls no privacy
Big yard, living in close proximity
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes it has shaped my destiny
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
Adults sit around
Getting shot and maim
Children run around
Oblivious
Playing their games
In the filth that flows untamed
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
How hard I try not to run with the pack
But against me the cards were stack
They need protection they need someone
But you can’t protect them with empty hand
In the inner city
It’s called the inner city
Poverty, amidst luxury
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
Political connections, fearless and strong
Dispensing justice with an even hand
Truth be told, I am a ladies’ man
So naturally they call me the “Don”
In the inner city
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city, no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
Now on death row
Soon, I’ll go
I am guilty?
No one will know
The script is written and sing like a song
They used, refused and then they kill the “Don”
In the inner city
Hah, ha, ha, a, a, a
Hah, ha, ha, a, a, a
poem by Ikhalfani Solan
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Mirror, Mirror, Bloody Fibber
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Can't you show me tall and slim?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Must I look so bloody grim?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
You're distorting my poor waist!
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And why the heck am I defaced?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Why have I a double chin?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And what's the stupid, goofy grin?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Pointless asking ‘Who’s the fairest? –
More bloody likely, 'Who’s the queerest? ’
Now look, I paid a big bucks for thee,
So why can’t you be nice to me?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Me, you say? Ah, that's better –
Mirror, mirror, bloody fibber!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Mirror mirror bloody fibber
Mirror mirror mirror ribber
Mirror mirror mirror mirror
Mirror mirror make me slimmer
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Wall Of Death
Richard Thompson)
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time
You can waste your time on the other rides
but this is the nearest to being alive
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
You can go with the crazy people in the crooked house
You can fly away on the rocket or spin in the mouse
The tunnel of love might amuse you
And Noah's Ark might confuse you but
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
On the Wall of Death
All the World is far from me
On the Wall of Death
It's the nearest to being free
Well you're going nowhere when you ride on the carousel
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell
The switchback will make you crazy
Beware of the bearded lady
Oh let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
You are going nowhere when you ride on the carousel
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell
The switchback will make you crazy
Beware of the bearded lady
Let me take my chances
Let me take my chances
Let me take my chances
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Mists Of The Mountain
we sit here facing the mists of
the mountains
this November as we escape
city life
we catch a glimpse of who we are
what we really are
the mists slowly fade away and we stop
to ponder
we exhale we inhale we taste a moment
of life
we feel a little of death
we prepare for the next step
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tale of Three Cities
New York blasted London blasted
Singapore -
Ripped off each other's metaphoric balls,
Crumbling walls.
Priapic city monoliths -
Blue-sky scraping bastards -
Shout about their height (but really length) .
V8 arseholes didn't care -
Pumping shit into the air,
So long as they were always there to
Fart aloud a smoggy cloud,
Laughing at the weak asthmatic,
Humoured that it seems traumatic.
Watch the greedy cities oozing
Chair-bound fat committees, though they
Look a bunch of titties as they
Waffle on about the pound.
Ever thought to look around and see
That they were dead?
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Mumbai
They call it a city that never sleeps,
Dreams at large; everything in heaps
Buzzing all the time, different people different cons,
It got its roses and it got its thorns.
City of murmuring traffic and twinkling cars
The multi-millionaires, the movie stars.
We’ve got it all;
The vada-pav and the dance bars,
Crowded local trains, almost on time,
Spirit of its passengers always sublime
City where honesty is rewarded,
But bravery is crime.
Success and failure are in twilight,
City where changes happen overnight
You might be swept if caught off sight,
Got lucky, then you be on a flight
Multi-lingual, multi-religious,
City of unusual weather,
I wouldn’t be wrong; if I say,
It’s a city where country comes together,
Every city has its ups and downs and she is no different.
She gives me an identity and makes me proud.
City where I was born and city where I want to die,
My city! My Mumbai
poem by Fahim Sayed
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Depression in Early Spring
Meathooks, notebooks,
the whole city sky palely flaming
& spectral bombs
hitting that patch of river
I see from my eastern window.
The poets are dead, the city dying.
Anne, Sylvia, Keats
with his passionate lungs,
Berryman jumping from the bridge & waving,
all the dreamers dead
of their own dreams.
Why have I stayed on as Horatio?
Anne sends poems from the grave,
Sylvia, letters.
John Keats's ghostly cough
comes through the wall board.
What am I doing here?
Why contend?
I am a corpse who moves a pen that writes.
I am a vessel for a voice that echoes.
I write a novel & annihilate whole forests.
I rearrange the cosmos by an inch.
poem by Erica Jong
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His Writings On The Wall
when he was writing about
walls
he wrote the words on the walls
and they were arranged
like walls
from wall to wall his description
about the wall was
consistently like a wall
walling in all the walls
around the wall
where he was writing
consistently and
uniformly the word
wall, wall, wall, wall
and then nothing but a train of walls like this
wallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallw allwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwall
of course, he did notn add any smoke from steam engine
neither did he add any children and women and even men riding on the
train of walls
there was no driver even
or wheels
what he stressed was just a wall, a wall train, a wall nothing but a wall
walling him in
but what he really wanted at the end was something that should wall him out
something however that until now he is still trying to figure out
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big City Nights
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
When the daylight is falling down into the night
And the sharks try to cut a big piece out of life
It feels alright to go out to catch an outrageous thrill
But its more like spinning wheels of fortune
Which never stand still
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
When the sunlight is rising up in my eyes
And the long night has left me back at somebodys side
It feels alright for a long sweet minute like hours before
But its more like looking out for something
I cant find anymore
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
There is no dream
That you cant make true, if youre looking for love
But theres no girl
Whos burning the ice away from my heart
Maybe tonight!
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between Drags
Between drags
on the cigarette
she muses on
the Rothko print
on Scalpon’s wall.
It took her by surprise
hanging there
beside the front door
almost from ceiling to floor.
The smoke touches her throat
fills her lungs.
Satisfaction sits
on her tongue
like Scalpon easing himself
between her thighs.
The Rothko print
fed her eyes and mind.
She exhales and thinks on
Scalpon’s secondary sex
and watches the smoke rise
as once from the chimneys
of those camps of which
Grandmother often spoke.
She inhales again
picturing in her mind’s eye
the Rothko print
trying to forget Scalpon’s
weird way of making love
upon the table
in the hall
while she studied
the Rothko
hanging on the wall.
poem by Terry Collett
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Amorica
The sun always shine in the city of Amorica
But the city of Amorica is the city I love the most
And everytime that I come to the city of Amorica I feel so welcome
Because the people that lives in the city of Anorica welcomes me with Open arms and I am a tourist in the city of Amorica
Also I love to go browsing in the public market of the city of Amorica
Because there are so many local artists that sells their crafts made by Them
And the crafts that the local artists of the city of Amorica sells are very Affordable
And the last time I was there was in 1979 and I bought a beautiful Water Color painting that hangs in my living room at home
And I am very proud of it also
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Builders Of The City
You never will find their names on a memorial wall
And any memories of them historians never do recall
The builders of the City who lay with the unsung
Many of them came from distant shores and spoke in a foreign tongue
They more than earned every penny that they were ever paid
The builders of the City yet little of their achievements made
Devoted to the family and devoted to the wife
They worked hard so their children could enjoy a better life,
The builders of the City so much to them we owe
Though nothing written about them and of them little we do know
They built the housing estates, City buildings and City Mall
Though nothing of their life achievements is ever made at all
They lay the rail tracks to the City and made the Roadways through the Countryside
Yet in the builders of the City we never do take pride.
poem by Francis Duggan
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O life O death 1
Truth hanged on the wall,
Nails of evil secured, horrer
Wall clock running reverse to fall,
Stood I, infront of a miracle mirror/
Life on the stake of honesty,
Slipped on the hot frying pan, fish tasty
Crispy, crimpy, heartily loved by all
Ah: Honesty is the best policy, A false call! //
What death if life is useless!
What life if death is useless!
What tongue if word not spells
Heart is a hut where love dwells//
Unfrozen region of my mind
Where truth hid shivering
Bright starry stormy eyes
Under the evil coverings//
Should I shout unto death?
O Life! O Death! I wrapped with terror
Why humanity survives under the Mask?
Why religion is wrapped with terror? //
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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Writings On The Wall
The writings on the wall brother
Your life is in your hands
Its up to you to see the writings on the wall.
It looks you in the eye mister
Its time we stand up tall
Go see and understand the writings on the wall.
Strange we hold on to things that have no grace
Or power
While death holds on to us much more with every
Passing hour
And all the time you thought it would last
Your life, your friends would always be
til theyre drunk away or shot away or die away
From you.
Theres nothing that you need sister
The lord is in you all
Life is designed to see the writings on the wall.
The musics in the air mothers
You may have heard it call
To you that you may see the writings on the wall.
Be careful going home sister
Be watchful down that road
Youve got a lot of love sister
More to grow.
The writings on the wall brothers
Your life is in your hands
Its up to you to see the writings on the wall
I hope that you may see the writings on the wall.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kwarley
The wall around Jerusalem is like the wall around your love,
But death came and took you away so soon;
I am like a child to learn about your muse but,
You left the world so soon for me to be your student;
Life is like that at times and,
You are Kwarley and death did not allow you to stay longer!
For the love of your sweet candle burnt out so soon and,
Death didn't waste time on your age.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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