I
Who am I?
I was slave and master over myself
Until death perfecting my life
Copyright©2012℠
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Slave 2 The System
Slave) {repeat in song}
Slave, yeah {x2}
Slave 2 the system here before I was born
Slave 2 the master, workin' me till I'm worn
The only penthouse I can count on's a big black ball and chain
Slave 2 the system, the future's all arranged
Oh, U better fetch that water, boy {x2}
Slave 2 the system
Thompson's my last name, but my daddy's name is Lloyd
The farther back I trace it, the more it becomes null and void
All my life I've struggled just 2 be called a boy
Slave 2 the system, oh what a joy
Oh, U better fetch that water, boy
Hell if I do!
(Oh, U better fetch that water, boy)
Oh, I'm just a slave 2 the system
Here before I was born
Slave 2 the master, workin' me till I'm worn
Slave 2 the system
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 05 On Love And Youth Story 02
It is said that a gentleman possessed a slave of exquisite beauty, whom he regarded with love and affection. He nevertheless said to a friend: ‘Would that this slave of mine, with all the beauty and good qualities he possesses, had not a long and uncivil tongue!’ He replied: ‘Brother, do not expect service, after professing friendship; because when relations between lover and beloved come in, the relations between master and servant are superseded’:
When a master with a fairy-faced slave
Begins to play and to laugh
What wonder if the latter coquets like the master
And the gentleman bears it like a slave?
A slave is to draw water and make bricks.
A pampered slave will strike with the fist.
Ode to Death
in the end
we all bid
farewell
to ourselves
in the cold
the world a stage
everybody has
to play no,
not Shakespeare's
suggested single role
but a double role
master and slave
this physique
that stoically
bids us
do its chores
for all its needs
physical, spiritual
the most exacting partner
one would ever get
a quiet stoic bullier
and after all the slavery tasks
the master leaves
the slave in the cold
a cold that freezes
in the finest of weather
without the snow
the blizzard
deep into everybody's heart, soul
the master and slave
a marriage made in heaven
till death do us part
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The slave loves his master
It is a pleasure
For a master to command his slave.
It is a pleasure
For a slave to attend his master’s call.
The difference is
That the slave’s pleasure is for love.
30.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mark R. Slaughter
Just like the dahlia
Death comes in all its beauty
And so I stroke her petals
Push my feet root-deep
Into the composted soil
As weary clouds unite
Coalesce
Darken through the greys
In preparation
Incontinence prevails
Lachrymose in empathy
They cry for me
Sharing tears
Mortality brings
As twilight closes
I rot
(They fade)
To be the plant
(They'll water)
I, denomination Mark R. Slaughter
Struggle thro' my fantasy
To seal the state of mind
That I of soul
Remain eternal
Back on the windowsill
A daffodil stretches
From a bulbous foot
Flirts like a ballerina
STOPS
Wonders of the world
My cat hears the brassy thoughts
From yellow trumpet
Pricks up his ears
Iridescent eyes
Focussed on the future
I'll wait
For his appraisal
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
A Trail of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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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A Slave Wants To Be So
A slave is a slave as he is in love.
As slave he’s assured that he is secure.
His master can be a possessive wife,
A caring mother or a beloved child.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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
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the I', 'me' and 'myself
'the I' ask 'me': what do you want for next few days, at least?
'me': i want to get far away from noise of the world, although for moment... to set back of 'myself'! !
'myself': yaaa, you are right! i seem begun be paranoid... too full of my mind to arrange 'messages life' of yours... I want to relaxes momentary...
'me': yes, dear 'myself', stay calm down - we will doing together
'the I' command 'me' and 'myself': so, what are you waiting for...? ? do it and then back to your life, quickly! ! don't be foolish. i wait yours...! ! !
'me' and 'myself': okay, master, we hasten to do so...
Copyright © 2012
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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When Death Knocks
When death knocks
I shall fling the door wide
Rush into his embrace,
For I am ready.
He holds no fear for me
Why should I fear a friend?
One I have known all my life;
Who has accompanied every step,
Helped me on my way.
No I shall not fear death for
He will cut my earth bound chains
And his kiss shall set me free.
Copyright 2012 P H Brookes
poem by Paul Brookes
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Remind That
o Self - a life lived in tents too good to be left
but remember it is a 'comfortable prison' that can kill you slowly
o Self - will you wait for death in the midst of pleasure?
Pleading and Allah will grant..
Copyright © 2012 ℠
Rescue The Slave
This song was composed while George Latimer, the fugitive slave, was
confined in Leverett Street Jail, Boston, expecting to be carried back
to Virginia by James B. Gray, his claimant.
Sadly the fugitive weeps in his cell,
Listen awhile to the story we tell;
Listen ye gentle ones, listen ye brave,
Lady fair! Lady fair! weep for the slave.
Praying for liberty, dearer than life,
Torn from his little one, torn from his wife,
Flying from slavery, hear him and save,
Christian men! Christian men! help the poor slave.
Think of his agony, feel for his pain,
Should his hard master e'er hold him again;
Spirit of liberty, rise from your grave,
Make him free, make him free, rescue the slave.
Freely the slave master goes where he will;
Freemen, stand ready, his wishes to fulfil,
Helping the tyrant, or honest or knave,
Thinking not, caring not, for the poor slave.
Talk not of liberty, liberty is dead;
See the slave master's whip over our head;
Stooping beneath it, we ask what he craves,
Boston boys! Boston boys! catch me my slaves.
Freemen, arouse ye, before it's too late;
Slavery is knocking, at every gate,
Make good the promise, your early days gave,
Boston boys! Boston boys! rescue the slave.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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No Time Did I Waste In Perfecting Deception
When you finally discover,
Those places I've been...
What will you think of me then?
I often wonder about the path you are on.
The careful steps you've taken...
To make sure what you do
Is right and not wrong!
No time did I waste in perfecting deception!
I did not have those comforts.
No tour guide in my life!
I have made my way through 'this'.
In complete darkness.
With just my faith and a followed insight.
Clouds of doubts covered my sleepless nights,
And frightened...
Sometimes.
But I continued on.
Knowing my sighing,
Did not prevent my eyes from crying!
No time did I waste in perfecting deception!
When you finally discover,
Those places I've been...
What will you think of me then?
Will you embrace the fact that I did not pretend?
All that I've done,
Has made it easier for you now to find!
Since that journey you have embarked upon,
Is the one I paved and cleared!
The one that nearly drove me out of my mind!
No time did I waste in perfecting deception!
Remember those times you said I was lazy?
Well I hope my achievements don't drive you crazy!
Since your reputation,
Has been secretly built on the back of my efforts!
And those who weren't aware...
Just look at you and stare,
With a glare that is shared.
But not smothered in love!
No time did I waste in perfecting deception!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Slave killers
fated to serve
the master
this life
and the next
black america
should cry
gratitude
to the great god
in this case
in the darkest of Borneo
as the crickets shrill
you still see
large carved wooden poles
totem poles
with devil faces
looming over the trees
darkened by
a century of rain,
slavery tears
and as you delve
look into the crevices
carved from hundred year old tree
shrill of the crickets
croak of toads, amphibians
pale in comparison
to cry amplified in your ear
a lord's death
always accompanied
by a slave
emaciated, drenched away
in the sweltering
tropical heat
in a chamber just below
taking the greatest
blow from master
that but now was
still as a log
but yet powerful as lord
slowly, and slowly
he succumbed
to a death
befitting of slaves
the worms
from the upper chamber
swarmed all over
to claim him
carry him away
to serve
the lord
slowly
he slipped away
giving up on life
and death
taking whatever would come
this life
next life
succumbing
to what he thought
is god's will
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Something Wonderful And Beautiful
:
:
A poem about the wildlife artist, Stephen Gayford
The artist stood with brush in hand
And prayed God would be kind
Enough to help him understand
The secrets he could find...
Then he began to paint away,
Each layer gently laid,
All expertise, all skills in play,
So he could pass the grade...
To pass the grade and then excel,
Until no more to do
And only then, bid it farewell,
When it was sold to you...
You thought it something wonderful
And beautiful to buy,
Majestic and adorable
And pleasing to the eye...
The artist smiled with heartfelt joy
While holding back his tears,
His expertise you could employ,
Financing all his years...
Success began with you, my friend,
We each owe you a debt,
Because you helped to start a trend
That no-one could forget...
From that day on, the artist stood
With paintings left and right,
To be the best, not just the good,
To reach the highest height...
Perfecting here, perfecting there,
Enhancing light and shade,
So paintings looked beyond compare
Thanks to the prayers he prayed...
Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent website
gayfordgallery-dot-com where we can visit and
enjoy wonderful artwork meant for one and all.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life is sacrifice
when I'm alone - I so enjoy
I can think of a lot of things about life
I can think of many things about death
I can think of a lot of things about the sincerity
I can think of a lot of things about hatred
I can think of a lot of things about longing
I can think of a lot of things about love
when I'm alone so I can think of.. is a life of sacrifice
Copyright © 2012 ℠
Master, Or Slave?
All men were created to be free
But some have chosen another way
Life choices were made into slavery
That ebbed their humanity away.
A man is a slave to what mastered him,
Alcohol, drugs, gambling and such.
Greed, pleasure, and every evil whim
Yes, the tendrils of Sin can grip so much.
Man takes the drugs in his own hand
And with his own mouth, he will then swallow.
Man takes the guns, pulls the triggers and then
Does the killing, the murders he sows.
Man, he created those nuclear weapons
Surely for the purposes of making war
For Hatred and Strife has mastered him on
And his Sin has gone so very, very far.
Though Man was given all dominion
Over the Earth and all living things
He has managed to reap sheer destruction
And the Cause and Effect now is coming.
Poverty and famine are man-made
Through corruption, neglect, and pollution
The Earth has succumbed and its womb forbade
The harvest of food for our consumption.
Pride is the other master that holds
Man will never acknowledge his need
For the only God Whose power can mold
Man back to his image, a master...His Seed.
'When you were slaves to sin, you were free from the control of righteousness. What benefit did you reap at the time...Those things result in death! '
Romans 6: 21
'For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.'
Romans 6: 23
-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
February 20,2010
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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