Hornpipes
Wealthy I am! Can wager on vices
Eager they’re too to take me zenith
Avarice-whisky, anger-cigarettes and
Lust-harlots lined up to keep me afloat
Through pseudo-pleasures of life
Hornpipes somewhere inside hoot cautions
“Yards nigh you’re to Judgment day”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Related quotes
Pent up lust
The pent up lust like the pent up anger
Is the sealed boiler, bent to explode.
The spent out lust, like the spent out anger,
Is lidless cauldron, empty by vapour.
Men are pent up and harlots are spent out.
Where is the juice of life?
03.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Old Friends
Old friends
My friends and I are elderly men with protruding bellies, we drink whisky
in the evening and talk about the old days; and of friends that went before
us. We feel slightly envious of them, as we have yet a death to come.
The war in Afghanistan has lasted ten years and might last ten more years
this makes us smile for we know wars are endless, like a bad back we have
to learn to live with. Little has changed in our life time, avarice and lust for
power rule ok. In the bar we talk about football, a game of utter futility.
When we leave and see a beautiful girl walking past we don’t bother to turn
around for a second glance, what’s the point. When a friend dies, usually of
cancer or heart attack, we go to his funeral, drink whisky, shudder and talk
about him, sport and the crazy world we live in.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Lust For Life (feat. The Pretenders)
Words and music by David Bowie and James Osterberg
(Lust for life x 3)
Here comes Johnny in again
With liquor and drugs
And a flash machine
Hes gonna do another strip tease
Ah, hey man, whered ya get that lotion?
Ive been hurting since I bought the gimmick
About something called love
Yeah, something called love
Well, thats like hypnotising chickens
Im just a modern guy
Huh, of course, Ive had it in the ear before
I have a lust for life
Cause Ive a lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
Lust for life
Lust for life
Im worth a million in prizes
With my torture film
Drive a GTO
I wear a uniform
On a government loan
Im worth a million in prizes
Yeah, Im through with sleeping on the sidewalk
No more beating my brains
No more beating my brains
With liquor and drugs
With liquor and drugs
Ooh, Im just a modern guy
Huh, of course, Ive had it in the ear before
And Ive a lust for life (lust for life)
Cause Ive a lust for life (lust for life)
A lust for life (ooh)
A lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
I got a lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
Ah a lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
Lust for life
Lust for life
Im just a modern guy
Huh, of course, Ive had it in the ear before
And Ive a lust for life (lust for life)
Cause Ive a lust for life (lust for life)
A lust for life (ooh)
Lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
Lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
I got a lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
I got a lust for life
A lust for life
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Completing All The Touches
Her pupil shone –
Black stole a peek
Her smile wore sleek
Beneath a knowingness
That I would seek
A slipping down of garments,
Jealous of their role
To hide the jewels that complement,
Completing all the touches.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Lines of Lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Witch
Eyes, rivulets of red that run beneath a canopy
Of green-tinged lashes –
Tear blood playing on the grey-white skin,
Stretched across the twin peaks of cheekbone.
That slender pillar of a neck –
Magnet of eroticism, blinds to
Veins gorging on the flesh,
Dancing under pulse of blood –
Or whatever pumps inside.
Coal-black lips word intentions –
Castigations – variations of the horror
She was born to be.
O the hair! – a flame-orange avalanche
Thundering down to Hell
Where seething mounds of torn bodies lost their souls
To viler wants and fouler holes of
Scatological minds.
And the plunge of lavish breast –
E’er the siren’s weapon! –
Baits the mortal man –
Were he to chance his hand across
The certainty of doom.
But still we go, our weakness on display –
Hers will not a challenge be to see to our decay.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Under lust rain
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fantasy IV
Pounce of nipple
Snatches,
Catches me off guard
Flounce and ripple
Thro' the breasts
Arrests
Landing hard,
I'm flung upon my back
To analyse the ceiling -
No appealing under stress
Now under dress -
Panties gone
And she upon
My countenance -
I rouse to bait
Her feminine way
Lead astray by
Aromatic warming
Of her womanhood,
I tune her body's
Resonance
Thro' eloquence of tongue -
Her shrieking
Highly strung
We up the play
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.
quote by Marquis de Sade
Submitted by Simona Enache
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Plenty Of Anger
There is plenty of anger inside of me
It has to stop
Why is there so much anger inside of me?
My anger is part of my frustration
I have to control it now
My anger causes me plenty of trouble
There is plenty of anger inside of me
And what is anger do I know?
Anger is a strong feeling of displasure
It is a grief that I have inside of me
How can I control it?
What triggers my anger?
Can I recognize it?
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Anger, my enemy or my friend?
Anger is my enemy
There is a plenty of anger inside of me
I have to control it now but I don’t know how
My anger is part of my frustration
It fades my concentration in my ambition
It causes me plenty of trouble
It makes my life horrible
Anger form fears in my heart
It makes me broken apart
My body shakes with anger
It will not stop forever
I feel like I’m alone in this world
Nobody say to me any word
But the anger inside of me becomes my friend
It will never leave me till the end
My anger doesn’t leave me
It’s always there inside of me
poem by Angelyn Agudo
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Man cannot hate women
Women are beautiful even in anger
As though it is pseudo anger.
Women fail to provoke men by anger.
They need fight men no longer.
06.03.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Talons of a Gothic Mind
She of talons, borne from gothic mind-
Steel of blue her chilly stare,
Pitch of black her fetid blood-
Whence there came an evil flare
To terrorise the weeping kind
Befogged in mental mire; to rape
The shore with phallic waves -
And all for lust, her one desire:
Corrupt the sand of innocence
Without a case for penitence,
Or cause for such as reticence -
While coming on her priapismic fire.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
Lust lust lust Lust lust lust Lust lust lust
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Anger and Me
Anger is a form of fear
Anger is what I’m waiting to hear
Anger is deep down inside me
Anger drives me crazy
Anger is what turns me on
Anger is what turns me off
Anger is my enemy
Anger is my pal
Anger is gonna kill me
Anger is gonna save me
Anger might just help me
Find my true love.............
..........................Ma ybe?
poem by Kimberley Waldron
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Anger My Friend/Enemy
Anger is a form of fear
Anger is what I’m waiting to hear
Anger is deep down inside me
Anger drives me crazy
Anger is what turns me on
Anger is what turns me off
Anger is my enemy
Anger is my pal
Anger is gonna kill me
Anger is gonna save me
Anger might just help me
Find my true love.............
..........................Ma ybe?
poem by Adam Owens
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The loved one ever lovely
It is lovely to see a women feel shy,
Lovelier to find her in pseudo-anger
But in your case even in real anger
Still lovelier you look, my beloved.
19.03.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Backslidden
As you walk with God in your life, you display the character of Christ.
As you walk away from The Lord, your fruit displayed is not ignored,
When a one becomes backslidden, the spirit inside is not that hidden.
A believer begins wrestling deep inside, when his Lord he has denied.
As you walk from His narrow path, you fill up with bitterness and wrath.
As a spirit of anger builds up inside, The Lord’s peace to you is denied.
And the anger begins to stir within, leading your heart and mind to sin.
Then as this anger turns into rage, sound reason begins to disengage.
When from Christ you do depart, His Light begins to leave your heart.
Your heart becomes a raging sea, as it begins to stir up past iniquities.
Your words begin to sow discord, as your heart strays from your Lord.
And Jesus Christ will have no part, of this darkness within your heart.
For when you walk away from Him, Christ’s Light inside begins to dim.
All your peace has been displaced, with no sign of Christ on your face.
Even behind your smiling façade, it is apparent that you left your God.
And the pseudo peace you maintain, within your heart is not the same.
And Christ will continue to let you fall, until you return to The Lord of all.
Friend, Christ died for you to be a light, not to return to the dark of night.
And as long as you resist His Grace, life will be a most miserable place.
If you only return unto The Lord, then His peace to you will be restored.
(Copyright ©04/2005)
Harlots Be Honoured
Man is polygamous; he cannot be chained.
Wives must be safe; hence prostitution.
Its eradication is like blocking sewage.
Exit of prostitution will invites adultery
And wives are not safe; husbands insecure.
Don’t condemn harlots; don’t contempt harlots.
Harlots are as good as any woman.
Stigma attached to them be cut off.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Three Silver Screen Cowboys (Fun Poem 24)
The Lone Ranger with a hearty cry,
from within a cloud of dust,
you can hear him say “Hi Ho, woe, woe, woe Silver,
as he hangs onto Silver’s tail.
He is hanging there because he called Silver a naughty word.
Silver did not like it one little bit.
Now he’s off down the canyon,
in a cloud of dust and boots alight,
trying to get Silver to slow down,
so he can apologise to him.
I do not suspect you have ever heard
of a guy they called Sunset Carson.
One day he rode off with a gal
into the sunset,
and was never seen again.
That is probably why
you have never heard of him.
There used to be a cowboy
who rode the silver screen.
He was one of the good guys at that
and his name was “Hoot” Gibson.
Now did you ever wonder
How “Hoot” ever got the name?
He jumped on a horse one day
while making a film,
and he hit the saddle horn.
You could hear him for miles,
shouting, “Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! ”
That is how “Hoot” Gibson was born.
poem by David Harris
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Keep five yards from a carriage, ten yards from a horse, and a hundred yards from an elephant; but the distance one should keep from a wicked man cannot be measured.
To Whomsoever Concerned
I see your ‘waxen’ expressionless face;
I see your ‘marble ‘eyes but you know not;
I see your dirt behind your back though clean;
I see your white-collared criminality.
I see you wear a ‘mask’ upon your face;
I see you smile so artificially;
I see your ambiguous statements made;
I see your smooth-tongued nature with great ease.
I see your white lies, so daringly made;
I see your greed for money increasing;
I see your voice that’s pseudo-endearing;
I see the monotony of your speech.
I feel so sad for kind of person you’re;
I feel so sorry you will not be good;
I feel so desperate for souls like you;
I feel I’ve failed to turn you to new leaf.
How longer still, you want to be like this?
Oh, can’t you ever give up your vices?
Oh, will you never change your heart of sins?
You think your soul is ready for God’s Bliss?
Your ‘pseudo-spirits’ can’t help you for long;
Your ‘principles’ in life invite God’s wrath;
Your approaches are clearly sinful too;
Your advices are misleading youngsters.
O shame on you for heart that’s stone-like cold;
O shame on you for adamant nature;
O shame on you for wasting remnant life;
O shame on you for being still in vice.
Your years are ebbing dangerously fast;
Your ill-gotten wealth can’t erase your sins;
Your guilt will overtake you very soon;
You’re on the verge of receiving God’s rod!
God spared you long for some good things you do;
God’s extra-kind to you- just realize;
God’s patience may not last for long- beware
God knows your pretences and soul most foul!
You cannot cheat the Almighty for long;
You cannot cheat your brothers and sisters;
You can’t deceive world without an end;
You’ll crash onto the ground for flying high.
You’re old today because of God’s great love;
You’re spared till date because of His kindness;
You’re healthy still for God’s slow to anger;
You’re fine as yet because of others’ prayers.
How sad, you fail to change for your own good!
You do not care to do the things you should;
One’s corpse burns almost like a log of wood;
A glutton dies of poisoning by food!
But things cannot go on like this for long;
All things must end; so also life’s story;
Amend; repent God’s Kingdom is so nigh;
You can’t take back a paisa when you die!
Soul’s state of grace is very important;
Your time of departure from earth will come;
Your day of reckoning is almost near;
Are you ready for your accounts to God?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-12-2008
poem by John Celes
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Who Would Have Thought
strange to hear them say
i miss being a kid
though when all you had
to do was go to school
used to think
that
was so difficult
so eager to grow up
so eager to venture out into the world
so eager to earn money
so eager to spend money
so eager to travel to exotic places
so eager to experience life
some say school days
are the best days of your life
some said it is hard to believe...
that these are the best days of our life
when they were still teenagers at school...
I say why limit yourself expect
hope pray
the best is yet
to come
poem by Terence George Craddock
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