Beneath The Skin
It was not a demigod, elephantiasis
of a beast, snakes sitting on head. A catastrophic
tree view.I was proud of being alive during
carpet-bombing. A catnip was needed to clear
the vision. The town was moving out shedding
its landmarks. Nocturnal flares were disturbing
the lovers. A chronic shift in sex starved
season. The birds had stopped going behind
the bushes. Each day seeks permission to bury
the dead, and grass waits for the noble feet.
Ultra hemo cover was not there. Drained out
we were becoming pale to account for the loss
of blood in cross-firing. Ultimate pain in chest
will unburden the task of a funeral prayer.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
The Diadochi
When word was brought that Alexander was dead
In Babylon, gossips said it was not true;
For if that demigod spirit had shed
So vast a corpse, its corruption then through
The whole world would reek; men from Carthage
To India would pause and sniff the air,
That by the stench declared the End of Age
Like an incense-wafted funeral prayer.
Yet he was dead, and in time earth did stink
With the metal tang of blood. Forty years
His funeral games were held, and men did think
His dying crueler than his life. More tears
And blood they shed, his diadem to strive,
Than he had spilled in Asia, when alive.
poem by Mark Sauer
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The Ultimate Sin
Overkill enough is enough
Theres nothing left of me to devour
Youve had your fill Im all I have left
What can stop your hunger for power
cos you took advantage of things that I said
Now the feeling is dead
And thats the ultimate sin
And thats the ultimate sin
Anyway I look at it now
The doors are closed and cannot be opened
Bury your anger and bury your dead
Or youll be left with nothing and no one
Theres no point in screaming cos you wont be heard
Now that tables have turned
It was the ultimate sin
It was the ultimate sin
It was the ultimate sin
I warned you then and Im warning you now
If you mess with me youre playing with fire
Winds of change that are fanning the flames
Will carry you to your funeral pyre
Its pulling you down
Its your final descent
Its too late to repent
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Heart
This pain it won't stop.
It won't go away.
It lingers.It's painful.
Not physically, but emotionally.
It makes me cry.My temper flares.
Embedded in my chest; the pain.
Bit by bit it grows.
Larger and larger.
Day by day.
I want it to stop, but it won't.
It's not just loneliness and anger.
It's hurt, betrayal, sadness, and a longing to be loved.
A longing to be needed.
This pain devours my happiness in a minute.
No notice. No sign.
It just does.
This pain tells me I'm different.
Not normal. Not needed. Unimportant.
This pain is me heart.
poem by Heather Noble
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What Am I Doing Here
(Justin Hayward)
Pale the young squire who goes to fight
To die at his master's side
Living is just a dream inside
You ask me why he cried
"What am I doin' here?"
"What am I doin' here?"
Beautiful princess, fair and pale
Stares out across the sea
Alone in her castle dark and grey
Her love she'll never see
"What am I doin' here?"
"What am I doin' here?"
Tenderly bury the fair young dead
Place a wooden cross at his head
All the words you can say
Have been said
It's for you my tears are shed
What can be done, you won't believe
Listen and you may see
Everyone's dream is deep within
Find it and you'll be free
"What am I doin' here?"
"What am I doin' here?"
Tenderly bury the fair young dead
Place a wooden cross at his head
All the words you can say
Have been said
It's for you my tears are shed
Tenderly bury the fair young dead
Place a wooden cross at his head
All the words you can say
Have been said
It's for you my tears are shed
*************************************************************
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crowde By Thousands Of Forms Of Gods
crowded by thousands of forms of gods,
each hovering over my head in mad circles,
yes, i have lost my meditation and devotion;
my lips cry for a god
and my heart seeks another
and my intellect runs after another;
i am at a loss to determine which of this pantheon
may rush for my help in my hour of distress;
confusion stirs me to stupidity and turbidity-
i politely send them all away
and i think of the one god
who has no face, no trunk
but only two feet for me to grab on
and hold them on to my chest;
i am in terrible fears to lift my head up
lest i may see a body or a face;
for i know with only his feet in vision
i reach my nameless and formless god
in seconds of my submerging into meditation!
--s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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The Ghost Dance
12 hours pass, flash by again twice
toll for the dead to awake again
the 8 o'clock rising still and eiry
as we follow suit of the sun dance
on hour goes by so quick so fast
and we blend to the pacing crowd
the beast struck nine and the dead join the living
hand in hand we dance the ghost dance
and look down into anothers distant eyes
hollow, gone and forboding us
what awaits beyond fleshy worlds
lust, gluteny, blasphamy and sloth
join in hands with thy brothers
vanity, gluteny and greed
the beast struck nine and the dead join the living
hand in hand we dance the ghost dance
throw back our heavy heads again
and scream to darken the clouds
let the rain fall let it wash us
pure as we now dirty and alive
distance apart us one key and two
unlock the secrets of time
the beast struck nine and the dead join the living
hand in hand we dance the ghost dance
loincloth needed to cover mine shame
as we're told as we are is imperfect
we cover and cower and hide
our shame merely shame to them
red, salty tears sting our black eyes
as again we cry for their loss
the beast srtuck nine and the dead join the living
hand in hand we dance the ghost dance
and the beast be the sun dance
as time claims us all in the end
hand in hand with our brothers
we trace regrets as our ghosts
and dance in circles around their heads
red right hand of the devil baptise me
the beast struck nine and the dead join the living
hand in hand we dance the ghost dance
poem by Sabrina Burton
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Midwinter Spring
Cloudless sky big and blue,
pale yellow sun warms clear air.
Now comes a new day;
a new season begins,
where winter has been.
Where sorrow has been
a tiny huge shift toward healing,
toward hope.
A new season begins
where winter has been.
Fragile warmth touches chill soil,
tender shoots push toward the surface
seeking nourishing rays.
A new season begins
where winter has been.
A heart slowly opens in tentative inches,
pain still fresh and loud within;
blue sky reaches down.
A new season begins
where winter has been.
The chatter of baby birds
rises on fresh air,
touches the ear, turns the mind.
The heart hears a tiny huge voice consoling.
A new season begins
where winter has been.
(1/2009)
Catnip Dream
(m.nakatani)
Originally performed by the shonen knife. jeff performed it live at great american music hall, san francisco, on may 4 1995.
He is a cat but hes very very fat
Hes not just a standard cat
He is a cat but hes still very fat
American calico cat
Catnip is a kitty cat drug
One puff two puffs, high in a dream
Funny kittys got very sleepy eyes
I wonder what hes dreaming of
Catnip dream catnip dream catnip
Dream meow meow meow
Catnip dream
He gets his kicks from a tiny toy
A green frog filled with catnip
And pretty soon hes going to be seventeen
Kitty cat birthday party
Catnip is a kitty cat drug
We plant catnip seeds together
All summer long he watches it growing
Dreaming of the harvest moon
Catnip dream catnip dream catnip
Dream meow meow meow
Catnip dream
He is a cat and hes very very smart
He knows the coolest place in the yard
He is the king of the neighborhood
American calico cat
Catnip is a kitty cat drug
One puff two puffs, high in a dream
Funny kittys got very sleepy eyes
I wonder what hes dreaming of
Catnip dream catnip dream catnip
Dream meow meow meow
Catnip dream
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Celebration Of The Lizard
Lions in the street and roaming
Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming
A beast caged in the heart of a city
The body of his mother
Rotting in the summer ground
He fled the town
He went down South and crossed the border
Left the chaos and disorder
Back there over his shoulder
One morning he awoke in a green hotel
With a strange creature groaning beside him
Sweat oozed from its shiny skin
Is everybody in?
The ceremony is about to begin
Wake up!
You can't remember where it was
Had this dream stopped?
The snake was pale gold
Glazed and shrunken
We were afraid to touch it
The sheets were hot dead prisons
Now, run to the mirror in the bathroom
Look!
I can't live thru each slow century of her moving
I let my cheek slide down
The cool smooth tile
Feel the good cold stinging blood
The smooth hissing snakes of rain . . .
Once I had, a little game
I liked to crawl back into my brain
I think you know the game I mean
I mean the game called 'go insane'
Now you should try this little game
Just close your eyes forget your name
Forget the world forget the people
And we'll erect a different steeple
This little game is fun to do
Just close your eyes no way to lose
And I'm right there I'm going too
Release control we're breaking thru
Way back deep into the brain
Back where there's never any pain
And the rain falls gently on the town
And in the labyrinth of streams
Beneath, the quiet unearthly presence of
Nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around
Reptiles abounding
Fossils, caves, cool air heights
Each house repeats a mold
Windows rolled
Beast car locked
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living With A Chronic Pain
Nobody understands or feels someone else's pain
Unless he or she faces a chronic pain
people with chronic pain are prisoner of pain jail
Using all possible solutions to break out, sometime they are pain free sometimes they fail
Pain is part of this life we like it or not
lucky people have less of it, others a lot
However, if I have to choose between pain and nothing I choose the pain
because pain at least reminds you, you are alive, but form nothing there is nothing to gain
poem by Sam Arjomandi
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Luck
he is in the middle of something
Painful
Choosing between slashing his wrist with a blade
Or firing a bullet in his head
In the middle ambiguities
he stopped
You called.
What if the blade slashed his wrist?
And blood squirted on the Floor like a basin of water
Like falling tears On his cheeks
What if the gun fired?
And his brain spills on his chest
What if you did not call?
It is the middle of pain It is the middle of confusing things
Sometimes, it is the middle That saves.
Luck.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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56
he is in the middle of something
Painful
Choosing between slashing his wrist with a blade
Or firing a bullet in his head
In the middle ambiguities
he stopped
You called.
What if the blade slashed his wrist?
And blood squirted on the Floor like a basin of water
Like falling tears On his cheeks
What if the gun fired?
And his brain spills on his chest
What if you did not call?
It is the middle of pain It is the middle of confusing things
Sometimes, it is the middle That saves.
Luck.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grass is easier?
Up on a windy hill a tree is
a grassy field wind is the breeze
birds and bee's play and play
long lost lovers sign there names
in the tree
a tire swing sways and sways
on this tree
children songs and voices
filled the air at the time
now and days the grass is dead
tree is bare and the birds and the bees
play else ware
long lost lovers are lost
the names wore and decay
on this tree
a tire swing once swayed
on this tree children played
now on this tree smoke and ash lay
songs and voices now all gone
for this is the tree we once plaid on
poem by Cody Lee Jones
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Mr. Nobody
there's a dead man
in a box down at the
funeral home... nobody
came to see...
but hell, nobody came
when he was alive....
nobody called, nobody wrote...
and Mr. Nobody went about
his days, doing what you do
to get by... cooking small meals,
and drinking black coffee....
watering his plants, walking
his dog, sitting in his chair....
staring at old photographs
of children grown and moved....
and of the woman he loved
for forty years... buried beneath
a tree down by the church...
now he lies in the box, still,
cold, and lifeless... no voices,
no tears.... his dog wandered off....
there's nobody to bury nobody
in the world where nobody lived
and died...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Patience
How strange
and sad
alone
drunk
in a living room
like all living rooms
before
A mind
like a snake
slithering through
grass
desperately searching
for the solar warmth
to rest
in euphoria
But nocturnal you are
nocturnal you've become
a creature of the night
a vampire
living a cheap life
the blood
you feast
of a $7.25 an hour
shift
Sit and wait
you will
until the world
is ready
for your type
of tongue
poem by Justin Tallman Gonzalez
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The grass seeks her crowd in the earth. The tree seeks his solitude of the sky.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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Still Falls the Rain
Still falls the Rain---
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss---
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.
Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the Potter's Field, and the sound of the impious feet
On the Tomb:
Still falls the Rain
In the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the human brain
Nurtures its greed, that worm with the brow of Cain.
Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us---
On Dives and on Lazarus:
Under the Rain the sore and the gold are as one.
Still falls the Rain---
Still falls the Blood from the Starved Man's wounded Side:
He bears in His Heart all wounds,---those of the light that died,
The last faint spark
In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad uncomprehending dark,
The wounds of the baited bear---
The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat
On his helpless flesh... the tears of the hunted hare.
Still falls the Rain---
Then--- O Ile leape up to my God: who pulles me doune---
See, see where Christ's blood streames in the firmament:
It flows from the Brow we nailed upon the tree
Deep to the dying, to the thirsting heart
That holds the fires of the world,---dark-smirched with pain
As Caesar's laurel crown.
Then sounds the voice of One who like the heart of man
Was once a child who among beasts has lain---
"Still do I love, still shed my innocent light, my Blood, for thee."
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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Wake Up
Wake up!
You cant remember where it was.
Had this dream stopped?
The snake was pale gold
Glazed & shrunken.
We were afraid to touch it.
The sheets were hot dead prisons.
And she was beside me.
Old, shes numb.
Her dark, red hair,
The white soft skin.
Now, run to the mirror in the bathroom,
Look!
Shes coming in here
I cant live thru each slow century of her moving.
I let my cheek slide down
The cool smooth tile
Feel the good cold stinging blood
The smooth hissing snakes of rain...
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Oak And Its Branches.
An Oak, with spreading Branches crown'd,
Beheld an Ivy on the Ground,
Expos'd to ev'ry trampling Beast,
That roam'd around the dreary Waste.
The Tree of Jove, in all his State,
With Pity view'd the Ivy's Fate;
And kindly told her, She should find
Security around his Rind:
Nor was that only his Intent,
But to bestow some Nourishment.
The Branches saw, and griev'd to see
Some Juices taken from the Tree.
Parent, say they, in angry Tone,
Your Sap should nourish us alone:
Why should you nurse this Stranger Plant,
With what your Sons, in time, may want;
May want, to raise us high in Air,
And make us more distinguish'd there.
'Tis well -- the Parent--Tree reply'd;
Must I, to gratify your Pride,
Act only with a narrow View
Of doing Good to none but you?
Know, Sons, tho' Jove hath made me great,
I am not safe from Storms of Fate.
Is it not prudent then, I pray,
To guard against another Day?
Whilst I'm alive, You crown my Head;
This graces me alive, and dead.
poem by Mary Barber
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Dead On Arrival
Dead on arrival
Well thats how they pronounced him
But Im out for survival
Im alive in this town
It took the vital injection
From that sweaty little girl child
She had the blood of conviction
Im alive and hurtin
And they said where did you go
And what did you do
Well whats gonna happen when he gets shot with love
Dead on arrival
They thought that nothing would save me
But I know what could break me
Dead on arrival
You were my death reflected
I love to tiptoe
That brought me into this town
I got a vital injection
And a gun at my head man
From a thrill hit redhead
That brought me into this town
Well where did you go
[+and] what did you do
Walked on out and he gets shot with love
With love, with love yeh
Yeh...
Dead on arrival
Well that aint a prediction
Fact of fiction
Im alive in your town
Dont try to shake me
Dont try to break me
I know what can save me
They take the blood in her town
And they said
Where did you go
And what did you do
Well, whats gonna happen when he gets shot with love
With love, with love
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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